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Speaking of the Zhou Dynasty, most people have a vague concept of it, but mention Empress Wu Zetian, and likely everyone is familiar with her. Everyone knows that Wu Zetian was the only female emperor in Chinese history. However, people might subconsciously overlook that she established a dynasty whose dynastic name was Zhou.

Historical records state that in 690 AD, Wu Zetian deposed Emperor Ruizong of Tang, Li Dan, took the throne, adopted the dynastic name Zhou, established her capital at Shendu (Luoyang), inaugurated the Tianshou era, and this period is historically referred to as the Wu Zhou era.

However, since she was the birth mother of two Tang emperors and was forced to restore the Tang Dynasty before her death, historians generally do not consider the Wu Zhou as a separate dynasty; by convention, the Wu Zhou period is included within the reign years of the Tang Dynasty. Thus, while most people know Wu Zetian was a female emperor, few are aware that she was the female emperor of the Great Zhou.

“Regarding the person of Wu Zetian, she is quite controversial. From a modern perspective, she undoubtedly accomplished many good things. Under her rule, social contradictions were eased, and socioeconomic development was promoted—that is certainly an achievement.”

At this point, Professor Wen sighed: “She was adept at accepting remonstrances, rectifying the bureaucracy, knowing how to employ talent, and reforming the Imperial Examination system. These are the deeds of an enlightened sovereign in a feudal dynasty, and she was exceptionally good at discovering talent. The famous Di Renjie goes without saying, but several prime ministers during the early reign of Emperor Xuanzong of Tang were also talents selected by Wu Zetian.”

“But it is a great pity that regardless of Wu Zetian’s merits, to those loyal to the Li Tang imperial house, she was a traitor who brought disaster upon the nation. Consequently, during Wu Zetian’s administration, the political climate was almost never peaceful; numerous political struggles erupted.”

As he spoke, Professor Wen shook his head: “And to maintain her rule, while promoting worthy ministers, Wu Zetian certainly needed ruthless officials to demonstrate her iron-fisted severity. Frankly, this is a common tactic of astute rulers. After all, the court needs different factions to achieve a balance of power. The so-called era where only upright officials held sway is fundamentally an impossible scenario…”

“But there was one! The periods under Emperor Renzong and Emperor Shenzong of Song, didn't those times feature an administration filled entirely with upright officials?”

Meanwhile, Yu Feibai scoffed with a wry smile: “In both periods, the court was filled with famous ministers, all righteous gentlemen. Yet, it seems it was precisely these upright ministers who managed to cripple the Northern Song Dynasty.”

“Don’t stray from the topic; let’s hear Professor Wen finish.”

Wang Guan advised, then chuckled: “You said it yourself. History is merely a plaything for the literati’s pen. What constitutes an upright, wise minister and what constitutes a cruel official who oppresses the populace—it’s all measured by their standards. We look at it, we can believe it, but we shouldn't take it as absolute gospel.”

“Exactly, just like the people who built this subterranean palace.”

Old Hou chimed in with a smile at the opportune moment: “If it were a stronghold secretly constructed to resist Wu Zetian’s rule, I wouldn't doubt it. After all, that was the dangerous political reality at the time. Wu Zetian continually promoted her confidantes and actively targeted the Li Tang royal family. Especially after she assumed the throne, opposition to her reached a crescendo; it was no longer just verbal criticism. It escalated to the point of armed rebellion aimed at overthrowing her rule…”

“Under such circumstances, the struggle had already entered a white-hot phase; a period of bloodshed and gore was inevitable.”

Professor Wen surveyed the underground chamber with deep emotion: “Looking back across the years. In this very place, perhaps a well-trained elite troop or a secret assassination squad was hidden. Like venomous snakes lurking in the grass, quietly baring their fangs, waiting for Wu Zetian and her cronies to expose a flaw before launching a decisive strike.”

For a moment, the crowd fell silent, feeling a touch of profound reflection. Conspiracy, rebellion, suppression, bloodshed… political struggles in antiquity were inherently that brutal, far more complex than a single sentence in the official histories could ever convey.

In fact, concerning such dark matters, Sima Qian’s Records of the Grand Historian from the Han Dynasty contained detailed accounts. Chapters like the Biographies of the Assassins remain legendary tales still recounted with relish.

But the quality declined generation by generation. Historical records after the Han Dynasty rarely mentioned assassins. Even when they did, it was merely a brief mention of a few characters, never delving into details, nor explaining the assassin’s background. Eventually, they stopped mentioning assassins altogether, glossing over it with a simple notation of a sudden death.

The root cause is mainly that such activities were considered undignified, or perhaps those who frequently resorted to such methods were guilty and naturally disliked having the topic raised.

Regardless of ancient or modern times, wherever light exists, darkness is bound to sprout. This is the duality of existence, something impossible to avoid. This is why everyone agreed with Wang Guan’s speculation that this underground palace was connected to the forces resisting Wu Zetian.

“Of course, it is merely a hypothesis,” Wang Guan said with a smile at this juncture. “Without direct evidence, speculation is just speculation; it cannot be taken as fact.”

“Indeed, it’s just speculation. After all, a single mural doesn't prove anything…” Yu Feibai shook his head. “Without sufficient proof, all conjecture is merely a castle in the air—it can be noted as a suggestion or dismissed entirely.”

“But I find this particular hypothesis very convincing,” Yu Feibai lamented. “Perhaps after the palace was completed, it was filled with weapons and armor. However, after the Shenlong Coup, when Wu Zetian was forced to abdicate, this underground palace naturally lost its purpose. It was either abandoned, or the collapse of its patron’s influence wasn't a natural disaster, but a man-made landslide.”

The Shenlong Coup refers to the period in Wu Zetian’s later years when she grew spiritually empty, increasingly decadent and dissolute, showing excessive favor to her two male companions, Zhang Yizhi and Zhang Changzong. These two, relying on Wu Zetian’s indulgence, wielded arrogant power, striking fear into the hearts of court officials. Even Wu Zetian’s nephews scrambled to curry favor with the Zhang brothers, sinking to abject subservience.

When Emperor Zhongzong Li Xian had been deposed, his children secretly discussed the Zhang brothers’ autocracy. Unexpectedly, this was leaked. The Zhang brothers seized the opportunity to whisper slanders in Wu Zetian’s ear, directly causing Li Xian to be forced into actions that led to his children’s deaths. This incident clearly shows that when power is at stake, familial ties and blood relationships are terribly unreliable; it’s like a thin sheet of paper—pierce it, and it’s gone.

Simultaneously, this very incident caused terror among the Li clan, finally leading them to unite and launch a coup. In the first month of the Shenlong era, Wu Zetian fell ill, and the Zhang brothers attended to her constantly, barring all others.

Sensing an opportunity, Li Xian and others decisively launched the long-planned military action. They joined forces with court officials and palace guards, stormed the palace, and with blinding speed, executed the Zhang brothers, forcing Wu Zetian to abdicate.

The account of this coup in historical records is brief, lacking the detail of the Xuanwu Gate Incident. However, like the Xuanwu Gate Incident, the Shenlong Coup had a high-sounding pretext: claiming the Zhang brothers were plotting treason, that court officials proactively led troops to quell the rebellion, then reinstated Crown Prince Li Xian as regent and re-enthroned him.

The entire affair was glossed over with euphemistic writing. Even the biographies of the ministers involved in this earth-shattering event merely mentioned their merit in eliminating the Zhang brothers, their participation in plotting the downfall of the traitors, or simply credited them with the merit of executing the villains and installing the emperor. The specifics of the coup itself were never mentioned.

But everyone should realize that palace struggles in the Tang Dynasty began with Emperor Taizong, Li Shimin, setting a poor precedent. Not to mention Li Shimin’s sons, who fiercely competed for the throne—Crown Prince Li Chengqian, Prince Li Tai of Wei, Prince Li Ke of Shu, and others—their brutal competition ultimately resulted in mutual exhaustion, benefiting only Emperor Gaozong, Li Zhi.

However, Li Zhi’s disposition was rather meek, which allowed Wu Zetian to rise. Furthermore, Wu Zetian’s methods strongly resembled Li Shimin’s: to those who did not offend her, she was an enlightened ruler, but against those who resisted her, she was ruthless, accustomed to killing one to warn a hundred. Therefore, as her children, relatives like Li Xian, Li Dan, and Princess Taiping were certainly influenced by what they saw and heard—one is influenced by one’s company.

After the Shenlong Coup concluded, Li Xian resumed the throne, but only three years later, he passed away.

Regarding Li Xian’s death, some suggest he was poisoned, while others claim natural causes. Regardless, not long after his death, Li Longji, the son of Emperor Ruizong Li Dan, allied with Princess Taiping to launch another coup. Following a dizzying series of power struggles, it was ultimately Li Longji who emerged victorious, becoming the famous Emperor Xuanzong of Tang.

These successive struggles and coups must have been incredibly intricate and shrouded in fog. Whatever the true reality was, it has certainly been buried deep in the river of history. No matter how much later generations research it, they can only grasp the broad outline; it is impossible to truly trace a clear thread.

Yet, one can imagine that ancient palace struggles, coups, and mutinies all began with bloodshed and ended in bloodshed—it was a matter of kill or be killed, with no room for sentiment or familial affection.

Gazing at the empty underground palace, the group fell into their own thoughts, faintly perceiving flashes of swordplay, scenes of subtle maneuvering, and plots hidden within the dim surroundings…

“Alright, stop guessing,” Wang Guan said after a moment of silence. He felt they couldn't dwell on it any longer; it wasn't conducive to social harmony and only made them appear psychologically dark. A person should be positive and constantly filled with positive energy.

With that thought, Wang Guan smiled: “This is the situation with the underground palace. Let’s head out now that we’ve seen it. Staying here too long makes one feel a bit stuffy.”

“Let’s go, let’s go,” Yu Feibai agreed. “I thought we might get to see magnificent treasures, but who knew such a vast underground palace would be inferior even to a common tomb? At least in those, treasures like a blue-glazed Tang Sancai horse have been unearthed… Mingguang Armor?”

Professor Wen, having good hearing, caught Yu Feibai’s mumbling and quickly pressed for details.

“I mean the Mingguang Armor from the Tang Dynasty,” Yu Feibai explained. “Didn’t we just discuss running into the other group of tomb robbers? They dug up many things in that big tomb…”

Professor Wen listened intently, his eyes growing brighter, and finally, a look of deep concern crossed his face: “Such precious cultural relics cannot just be left casually at a police station. Unacceptable! I must intervene in this matter…”