Steel Wheels Breach the Capital
The blood scattered across Cheollyeong Pass soaked into the dawn mist before it could even dry. The government cart loaded with the forty severed heads of the bandit Black Tiger Gang reeked of death from the rear, while at the forefront, Yi Si-woo's steel cart forged the path toward the heart of Joseon.
Crunch, grind—the steel wheels, reinforced with crude iron ore smelted in Onseong, mercilessly crushed the rough granite and gravel of Joseon's roads. The sound echoed through the mountains like a monstrous beast gnawing bones, a dissonant roar that shook the valleys.
Choi Seong-un swallowed dryly from his horse, his gaze fixed on Si-woo's back. The sight from the night before—two men slaughtering forty demons like livestock in an abattoir—had shattered the boundaries of everything he'd known in his lifetime.
"My lord magistrate, the capital is just ahead. You've come a long way."
Choi Seong-un's voice was polite.
"I know. The air's changing. Less the scent of people, more the musty smell of old paper and rotting silk."
Si-woo added lightly, and Choi Seong-un chuckled, nodding vigorously.
"Haha, such wit... The Grand Scholar will be waiting. Your achievements in Onseong are so unprecedented; the capital's elders won't sit idle."
Instead of replying, Si-woo turned the small wind-up handle on the side of the cart one full rotation. Tick, whirr—the precisely meshed gears locked into place, securing the neatly packed thunderbolt crossbows and precision instruments inside.
In Onseong, this was the limit.
Si-woo felt the cart's crude vibrations through his fingertips. His mind brimmed with future knowledge, but the hands to realize it were lacking. Onseong's blacksmiths were skilled, but they were accustomed to farm tools and weapons. Joseon's technological ecosystem was too barren for micron-level precision machinery.
But now Hanyang lay before him—the repository of royal treasures and the nation's genius artisans. And above all, the place where Jeong Yak-yong awaited, the man with whom he'd exchanged letters since his Onseong days, sharing insights on engineering.
"Man-seok."
"Yes, young master. My ass is about to split. Fix this damn steel cart in Hanyang, I beg you."
"Endure a bit longer. Once I shake down Hanyang's geniuses, I'll fit your rear with something softer than a silk cushion."
"A device? Aigoo, you mean more of that creepy iron junk? I'd rather have a cotton quilt!"
Ignoring Man-seok's grumbling, the massive fortress walls finally emerged over the horizon. Hanyang's main gate, Sungnyemun.
The area before the South Gate teemed with humanity. Peddlers from across the provinces with their bundles, yangban sedans waiting for entry, oxcarts tangled in chaos—it was pandemonium.
Normally, the gate guards would strut about, demanding tolls or rummaging through luggage. But as Si-woo's procession appeared, the hellish clamor fell silent in an instant.
"Wh-what is that...?"
"How can a cart make such a savage noise?!"
The commoners parted in fear, eyes wide. Despite the heavy load, the steel axle showed no bend, and the wheels gleamed under the sun. Si-woo's cart was a foreign shard dropped into peaceful Joseon's landscape.
"Halt! Which village scum dares bring such a monstrosity into the capital?!"
A gate officer, sword at his waist, blocked the way. The eerie screech of the wheels scraped against his eardrums.
Without dismounting, Si-woo pulled a letter from his bosom.
"I am Yi Si-woo, magistrate of Onseong in Hamgyong Province. Bearing the settlement ledgers at His Majesty's command—open the gate."
The officer snatched the letter and unfurled it. The moment he verified the seal, his face drained to ashen.
The name "Onseong magistrate" was already infamous among capital officials for its ghostly efficiency, and the king's bold endorsement was an irrefutable weight.
"O-open it! Clear the way!"
With the officer's shrill cry, the massive gate swung open. Si-woo tugged the reins and stepped through.
Hiss, squeak—the axle grease reacted to friction heat, emitting an otherworldly sound that rang like a monster's breath to Hanyang's ears.
Before Si-woo stretched the vast Six Ministries Street. Ministries lined both sides with tiled roofs. Rather than admire the splendor, he scanned the street's layout and the alleys where artisans' workshops clustered.
This is the place. The giant factory to turn my blueprints into reality.
As the steel cart entered Six Ministries Street, the capital's air froze taut. Beyond the high walls of the State Council and ministries, dozens of eyes tracked the procession.
Word of the northern frontier magistrate summoned by the king had already become a hot topic among the Noron grandees.
"That... the rumored monster cart?"
One of Chief State Councillor Sim Hwan-ji's retainers swallowed hard, peering through a wall crack.
Si-woo was well aware of those gazes. If anything, he slowed not a whit, as if to flaunt it. Each time the steel wheels ground the well-paved granite, a heavy vibration rippled through the ground, subtly shaking the ministry pillars.
Power arises from the tongue's tip, order from the blade's edge. But the future turns only when gears mesh.
Si-woo halted briefly in the street's midst. His eyes fixed on the distant artisan district, smoke rising—Joseon's engine room, marked in his mind.
"My lord, those yangban over there have killer glares. They look ready to swarm and dismantle the cart."
Man-seok tapped his sword hilt warily, but Si-woo replied,
"Let them. They lack the brains to grasp the structure anyway—and even if they did, their tech couldn't replicate it."
Si-woo's gaze had already pierced beyond Six Ministries Street to the palace depths, the audience hall.
When Si-woo's group reached Donhwamun Gate, a young scholar rushed up, breathless, blocking the cart.
"Yun-taek! No, Magistrate! You've finally arrived! Do you know how long I've waited?!"
Forgetting decorum, he inspected the steel axle and wheel joints, exclaiming in awe. It was Jeong Yak-yong, Si-woo's sole confidant from Onseong days, bonded through letters on technical discourse.
"Jeong, still the same. Stirring such a fuss in the capital's heart—the Rites Ministry elders will clutch their necks over breached etiquette."
Si-woo dismounted with a warm greeting, but Jeong Yak-yong ignored the handshake, shoving his head under the cart.
Unfazed by the dirt, he stroked the axle, voice laced with wonder.
"Etiquette later! First, this alloy axle! The bizarre ratios you wrote of—mixing carbon into iron to tune strength—how did you achieve such flawless precision? The grain is smooth as thin ice; clearly water-powered blades shaved the surface. Am I right?"
Jeong Yak-yong pressed his eyes close, murmuring like to himself.
"Look at this perfect roundness. Wheel friction is negligible. This precision could let half an ox's power haul a full load! To the forge now— I must see your smelting mix and heat control with my own eyes to sleep!"
A thin smile crossed Si-woo's lips.
"I'm just a man who crunches numbers. Jeong, if you're hooked on this cart, I'll formally invite you to the guesthouse later. But His Majesty comes first."
"Mm... fine, but you must invite me!"
"Promise."
Leaving Jeong Yak-yong's fervent send-off, Si-woo stepped into the palace. Behind him, the steel cart lumbered over the threshold, its weight asserting dominance. For the first time, the immutable threshold of Joseon's rites yielded to cold steel's will.
Heading to the designated guesthouse, leaving Jeong behind, Si-woo took in Hanyang's glittering nightscape. Ministry lights burned late; some calculated his cart, others his life.
Perched on the steel cart in the guesthouse courtyard, Si-woo inhaled the night air. Unlike Onseong's icy winds, it was humid, greedy—the capital's scent.
"Young master, really meeting His Majesty tomorrow? That palace threshold looks higher than Onseong's walls."
Man-seok asked worriedly, but Si-woo tapped the steel wheel.
"If it's high, tear it down. If blocked, carve a path. Tomorrow, Man-seok, the court grandees will learn: rites don't uphold the nation—cold steel does. Outdated pretexts don't feed the people; precise calculations do."