Joseon’s Area 51 (Part 5)
"Magistrate Choi, we don't have time to stand around gawking. Throw every one of those copper ingots into this crucible."
At Yi Si-woo's command, Choi Hyung-do startled like a bolt from the blue and clutched the copper lumps. This was precious copper he'd scraped together in Hanyang, ever watchful of the prime ministers and ministers' prying eyes—or by slipping them bribes.
"Y-you fool! Do you know what kind of copper this is? You can't just melt it all at once! We have to do it little by little, thriftily..."
"Being thrifty will just waste Joseon's time. What we're making isn't some simple bronze pot—it's the massive gear that will turn the lifeblood of this nation. Hurry up!"
With a grimace like he'd swallowed mustard seeds through tears, Choi Hyung-do dumped the copper into the crucible. The furnace, roaring past 1,000 degrees Celsius, gaped open and swallowed it whole. As the mechanical blower—powered by the Han River's hydropower—blasted in mighty gusts, the flames inside blazed a blue-white inferno.
The extreme heat that Joseon's artisans strained to reach when firing pottery was now mechanically controlled under Yi Si-woo's precise calculations.
Even amid that searing blaze, Jeong Yak-yong couldn't tear his eyes from the detailed blueprint Yi Si-woo had handed him.
"Si-woo, is this 'wire drawing' process you ordered really possible? Drawing copper out into threads this fine—what do you plan to use it for?"
Instead of answering, Yi Si-woo poured the glowing red copper liquid into the mold. Moments later, a long, steaming copper rod emerged—thick as an adult's finger.
Yi Si-woo carried it to the steel die he'd prepared in advance: a brutally tough steel plate pierced by a tiny hole in the center.
"Power dissipates if the flow breaks, but if we weave it through these copper wires, we can send it anywhere we want. Watch closely—see how the thick copper gets tamed."
Yi Si-woo clamped a waterwheel-linked tong to the rod's end and pulled the lever.
Kreeeech! The rod was forcibly sucked into the narrow hole, filling the warehouse with a shrill friction like screaming metal on metal. The thick copper was crushed and stretched as it passed through the needle-eye gap.
Emerging from the other side wasn't the crude rod from before, but sleek, slender copper wire, smooth as silk warmed by the sun.
"Impossible... How can that rigid copper come out as such a smooth thread!"
Jeong Yak-yong gasped and rushed forward. No human hands, hammering for centuries, could produce such uniform thickness.
Each pass through the steel die sacrificed volume for length, and Yi Si-woo began meticulously winding the fine wire around an iron core. Once, twice, thousands of times. As the cold, hard strands layered into a massive coil, a strange tension filled the Gigi-cheong.
This was the birth of humanity's veins—the conduits that would one day crisscross Joseon's lands, transporting vast energy.
Wherever Yi Si-woo's hands passed, crude iron lumps transformed into the intricate organs of a machine, imbued with eerie order.
"Now for the waterwheel. Man-seok!"
"Yes, my lord! The laborers are ready!"
In the warehouse basement, above the channel they'd just opened, a massive steel shaft descended. No ordinary wooden waterwheel—this was a metal turbine with razor-sharp, aerodynamic blades.
The Han River's pressure surged through the underground conduit.
Ku-gu-gu-gu-gu! The torrent slammed the steel blades, and the entire warehouse shuddered like it was screaming.
Choi Hyung-do clung to a pillar, trembling in terror that it might collapse, but Yi Si-woo stood unmoved.
Clunk! At last, the massive gear linked to the waterwheel meshed its teeth. The rotational power of the water flowed up the shaft to the surface.
And at the shaft's end hung a colossal drop hammer, rising into the air on its own.
"What... How can that heavy iron mass lift itself without a single man pulling ropes!"
Choi Hyung-do's shriek burst out. Yi Si-woo yanked the lever, and the hammer—halted mid-air—smashed down onto the anvil, defying gravity.
Boom—!! A strike that shook the earth.
A weight that would take dozens of men to budge had been effortlessly hoisted and slammed by the Han River's flow.
"This is the first pulse of Joseon's industry, Yak-yong."
In the seven days Choi Hyung-do had been away gathering materials, Yi Si-woo hadn't just dug the underground channel. He'd spurred the laborers to tear up the entire surface floor of the Gigi-cheong.
To withstand the drop hammer's vertical impacts, he'd layered thick granite slabs and poured molten iron into the gaps, fusing the foundation and pillars into one.
The old paper warehouse had become a fortress clad in steel braces holding up the ceiling.
On the surface stood precision anvils and lathes designed and carved by Yi Si-woo and Jeong Yak-yong, arrayed in perfect order. Massive drive shafts from the basement waterwheel snaked between them like complex veins.
Yi Si-woo confidently pulled the main lever.
Clunk! The waterwheel's rotation surged up the vertical shaft. A majestic vibration coursed through the pillars, tingling from soles to spine.
The ceiling-mounted drop hammer rose with a metallic groan, as if gripped by an invisible giant's hand.
Boom—!! Another earth-shaking blow.
The reinforced granite floor absorbed the terrifying impact without crumbling. The red-hot iron plate on the anvil flattened in one strike, taking the shape of a horseshoe.
"Si-woo! Did you see? One blow! Just one strike shaped the horseshoe perfectly!"
Jeong Yak-yong's voice cracked with joy. The horseshoe that clattered onto the anvil boasted curves and edges no human could mimic—smooth and razor-sharp.
In a normal forge, a skilled smith would hammer half a day for this; here, it took 20 seconds.
"Yak-yong, this is just the beginning. The Han River never tires. Tell the laborers: keep feeding in the hot plates without pause."
Without spilling a drop of sweat, Yi Si-woo coldly inspected the machine's joints and shoved the lever again.
Clunk, boom! Clunk, boom! Explosive rhythm filled the warehouse.
The Gigi-cheong's maiden run was dazzling. In under an hour, dozens of perfectly standardized steel horseshoes piled like a mountain in one corner.
The machine's overwhelming productivity mocked Joseon's antiquated ways. Laborers ferried plates in a trance; Jeong Yak-yong lost himself in the miracle.
But Yi Si-woo's smile didn't last.
Kwa-duk, ku-gu-gu-gung! As the hammer rose repeatedly, a tearing shriek erupted near the main drive shaft linking surface and basement. The whole factory convulsed in eerie vibrations.
"My lord! The shaft's warping! Smoke from the waterwheel side!"
Yi Si-woo yanked the lever back at Man-seok's cry, but it was too late. The copper gears couldn't withstand the Han River's fury—their teeth shattered, and the main shaft twisted like pulled taffy.
The foundations and frame were flawless, but the components transmitting the power lacked strength. Metal from Joseon's primitive smelting couldn't contain the river's mighty energy.
"Stop it! Close the sluice!"
Laborers screamed and threw themselves at the gate. Pry bars bent, barriers buckled under the torrent—but it wasn't enough. The wildly spinning waterwheel's shaft twisted with a ripping screech.
The Gigi-cheong's mighty pulse halted in a cacophony of grinding metal. The world-altering machine became a grotesque scrap heap amid thick steam and stone dust.
Jeong Yak-yong touched the warped shaft with a sweat-drenched face and sighed.
"Si-woo... The surface frame held firm, but these metal bits couldn't bear the strain and tore themselves apart. Is taming nature's raw power beyond human reach after all?"
Amid Jeong Yak-yong's lament, Choi Hyung-do returned pulling a cart of ore, only to burst into hollow laughter at the stalled machine and choking smoke.
"Ha, what a mess! It shook the earth and burst the waters like it would remake heaven and earth—yet it taps out after a few whacks on some iron? People should know their place. Young master, why not quit this demonic tinkering?"
The laborers bowed their heads at Choi Hyung-do's mockery. But Yi Si-woo gripped a broken shard and strode slowly to the ore cart.
"Magistrate Choi, instead of laughing, stoke the fire. The alloy ratio was off, that's all. If the Han is too strong, we'll just make steel tough enough to rip the Han apart."
Yi Si-woo slashed an X across the blueprint and scribbled new figures. The failure stung, but it revealed the precise limits of the river's pressure.
What Yi Si-woo needed now wasn't Joseon's pig iron. It was Joseon's first—nay, the era's foremost—special alloy steel.