Joseon’s Area 51 (6)
Amid the thick clouds of steam, only Yi Si-woo's sharp eyes gleamed. The main drive shaft, twisted grotesquely like a strand of taffy, laid bare the pitiful limits of Joseon iron—too soft and cowardly to harness the Han River's mighty force.
In the warehouse filled with acrid oil vapor, Choi Hyeong-do clicked his tongue mockingly, as if he'd seized the moment. "My lord, wasn't I right? You forced the watercourse to bend and unleashed that monstrous power, only for it to break down like divine punishment. Why not abandon your stubbornness now and clear away those hideous hunks of metal? Before petitions accusing you of squandering national funds flood the palace."
"Choi," Yi Si-woo cut him off, slowly approaching. In his hand was a jagged gear fragment freshly broken from the machine. He tossed it at Choi Hyeong-do's feet. The metal shard skittered across the granite floor with a sharp, glassy ping.
"Do you know why this broke?"
"Well... because you pushed it too hard for the iron to endure..."
"Wrong. It broke because this iron was too hard."
Choi Hyeong-do's eyes widened at Yi Si-woo's words.
"Hardness and strength are different. If charcoal's essence seeps too deeply into the iron, it becomes brittle and shatters under impact. You must control that essence precisely to make iron that's tough—pliable enough to bend without breaking. To contain the Han River's power, the iron needs toughness. It needs tensility."
Yi Si-woo approached the cart of iron ore Choi Hyeong-do had brought, picking out the purple-tinged stones discarded like rubble on the ground.
"Isn't that... manganese ore? Forges throw it out because it rots the iron," Jeong Yak-yong observed from the side.
But Yi Si-woo tossed one lightly into the air like a gemstone. "They weren't throwing it away—they just didn't know how to use it. This is magic powder that toughens iron's bones. Come on, Choi. Enough sneering. Put these stones in the crucible. We're transfusing new blood into Joseon steel."
As Choi Hyeong-do hesitated at the command, an old man emerged from the shadows of the workshop. It was Kang, the forge master with the deepest experience in the Gigi-cheong.
"My lord, this stone kills iron. Mix it into the molten metal, and the whole crucible's ruined."
It was the warning of a veteran who'd conversed with iron his entire life. Yet Yi Si-woo stood firm.
"Elder Kang, I respect your experience, but trust my calculations today. This isn't killing the iron—it's drawing out the poison within."
Overwhelmed by the unprecedented aura in Yi Si-woo's resolute gaze, Elder Kang rolled up his sleeves.
Yi Si-woo opened his notebook and began directing the process down to the second.
"Now! Thrust in the iron tube and keep the air flowing!"
Elder Kang and the laborers plunged the long iron tube deep into the boiling molten metal. As the hydraulic blower screamed, pumping oxygen, the crucible erupted in frenzy.
Bubble bubble bubble!
"My lord! The metal's gone mad—it's splashing everywhere! The crucible will burst!"
Even in the hellish chaos of flying molten splatter, Yi Si-woo's eyes didn't flicker. He caught the instant the metal's color shifted—from orange to yellow, then to a blinding bluish-white glow.
"Now! Dump in the powdered manganese and copper!"
As Elder Kang hurled in the mixture, a massive pillar of flame shot from the furnace, licking the warehouse ceiling.
"Ten, nine, eight... one. Pull it out."
Elder Kang, sweat pouring like rain, poured the molten metal into the mold. An hour later, with trembling hands, he cracked it open. When he tapped the freshly cooled dark-blue ingot with a rod, his eyes bulged.
"What... what kind of bone is this? Iron without grain. It's like a ghost's wail. Feels like it was born as one solid piece."
Elder Kang let the hammer slip from his hand before the alloy steel's unique smooth sheen—unlike any cast iron he'd hammered a lifetime. For a master who believed refining came from tens of thousands of strikes to align the grain, this seamless steel shattered decades of common sense.
Only then did Yi Si-woo relax his tight lips.
"Elder, this is the unbreakable steel you've chased your whole life."
As Elder Kang stood frozen in awe, Yi Si-woo swept back his sweat-matted hair and stared at the cooled alloy mass. But there was no time for admiration.
"Elder, we're not done. This is just raw material, not a part yet."
At Yi Si-woo's voice, Elder Kang snapped to attention. Yi Si-woo pointed to the massive hydraulic hammer and the crude lathe beside it.
"This alloy is far tougher than common iron. Once it cools fully, no Joseon blade can machine it. We forge and shape it while the heat lingers."
Entranced, Elder Kang set down the hammer and gripped the tongs. Under Yi Si-woo's guidance, the glowing red alloy mass moved to the hammer's anvil.
Bam! Bam! Bam!
The hammer, powered by the Han River's immense pressure, pounded mercilessly. Any ordinary iron would have shattered into fragments, but this manganese-laced beast grew denser and longer with each blow.
'It's... alive. Not submitting by force—it's getting stronger with every strike!'
The finished shaft clamped into Yi Si-woo's custom-designed lathe. Applying a cutting tool of modern superalloy composition he'd prepared, he pressed it to the surface.
Screeeeech—!
A eardrum-shredding friction wail, and silver shavings cascaded like a waterfall. As the rough exterior peeled away, a mirror-smooth drive shaft of subtle blue-white sheen emerged—special alloy steel in its glory.
"Run it again. Man-seok, open the sluice gate full!"
Man-seok cranked the handle with all his might. The Han River's terrifying backpressure via the underground tunnel slammed the turbine.
Rumble rumble rumble!
The warehouse shook with double the previous vibration. Choi Hyeong-do screamed, clinging to a pillar; even Jeong Yak-yong paled. But this time, no screams of failure.
The new alloy shaft absorbed the river's energy fluidly, transmitting it flawlessly to the drop hammer above.
Clank, bam! Clank, bam!
Steady rhythm, unwavering rotation. A perfect mechanical symphony.
With each strike, red-hot iron plates instantly formed into plowshares and poured out.
"Impossible... the shaft... isn't bending! No smoke either!"
Choi Hyeong-do gaped at the pulsing machine.
Yi Si-woo picked up a fresh alloy plowshare from under the hammer and nodded to Elder Kang.
"Elder, where's that 'finest Joseon steel' sample Choi brought, claiming it unmatched?"
Elder Kang fetched the prized carbon steel ingot from the corner—specially sourced from a renowned forge, leagues beyond common iron.
"Look, Choi. This is the tradition you trust. And this is my machine's output."
Yi Si-woo stacked them on the anvil—Choi's steel below, his alloy atop at an angle.
"Elder, strike with full force."
Elder Kang hefted the massive sledge high, muscles taut, then brought it down with a thunderous crash.
Clang—!
The Gigi-cheong rang with a tearing metallic screech. Choi Hyeong-do glared, praying for Yi Si-woo's metal to shatter.
But as the smoke cleared, he gasped. Yi Si-woo's alloy stood unscathed. Choi's "finest steel," meanwhile, wasn't just dented—it was grotesquely crushed.
"Impossible... that's top-grade steel from my clan's forge! How can machine-stamped iron humiliate it like this..."
"Choi, no truth weighs heavier than what's before your eyes. The tradition you revere has knelt before my calculations."
Yi Si-woo indifferently picked up the mangled remnant of Choi's steel—once the pride of a noble house, now unrecognizable scrap—and tossed it at his feet.
Clang.
Choi Hyeong-do collapsed, clutching the deformed chunk, staring blankly. He couldn't accept that centuries of master smiths' hammer strikes fell short of one machine pulse.
Yi Si-woo ignored the slumped man, rolling up his sweat-soaked sleeves and striding back into the throbbing machines. No more jeers or screams filled the Gigi-cheong—only the earth-shaking mechanical heartbeat.
Jeong Yak-yong took up his brush. His hand trembled faintly as he recorded the rebirth of Joseon steel. With each stroke, history veered onto an entirely new path.
But Yi Si-woo wasn't satisfied. Ignoring the sweat streaming down his face, he commanded the laborers amid the furnace glow.
"Don't quench the fire. Shift work from now on. The Han River doesn't tire, and neither do the machines."
His gaze turned outside to the Han River flowing proudly even in darkness.
"Before dawn, we'll fill this warehouse with steel."
That night, the rundown Geumho-dong warehouse never slept. Each roar etched success onto Yi Si-woo's blueprints. The paradigm of labor, unchanged for millennia, was overturning.
The next dawn, Choi Hyeong-do—sleepless over supply woes, eyes puffy—opened the Gigi-cheong door and nearly screamed.
In the center towered a mountain of steel plowshares, gleaming blue-white—quantities unimaginable the day before.
"H-how many... Three hundred in one night? A hundred smiths couldn't match that in a month!"
"Three hundred, Choi."
Yi Si-woo replied flatly, tossing a fresh plowshare at his feet.
"What do you plan with these? Surely not selling them privately on the market?"
At the sharp question, Yi Si-woo smiled briefly.
"This land was granted by His Highness, and these machines built to fortify the nation. Would I sell them privately?"
He turned to Jeong Yak-yong and nodded lightly. His friend, smoke-stained from the all-nighter, looked haggard.
"Yak-yong, take yesterday's smelting log and these plowshares to the palace at once. Ask His Highness if we can release them to the markets—at half the usual price."
Yak-yong paused, eyeing the plowshare mountain. Yi Si-woo placed a hand on his shoulder.
"Worse than usurious loans squeezing peasants' blood is a dull, worn tool. Time to replace that blunted iron that blisters hands and feet. That's why we pulled this all-nighter in this damp basement."
He handed Yak-yong a fresh plowshare.
"Steel piled in a warehouse is mere heavy metal. In peasants' hands, it becomes the nation's foundation. His Highness grasps this better than anyone. Tell him my answer is the Gigi-cheong's roar."
Yak-yong smiled faintly, seeing Yi Si-woo's conviction reflected in the blade's polish. Their cryptic correspondence had become tangible power before him.
Jeong Yak-yong gathered the logbook and steel plowshare, hurrying to the palace.
That afternoon, Yi Si-woo's revised report and the plowshare lay before King Jeongjo. The king ran his fingers over the blade, unable to hide his awe.
"Three hundred in one night... A hundred smiths couldn't do it. And Yi Si-woo's machine did?"
"Yes, Your Highness. Moreover, Lord Yi Si-woo seeks permission to flood the markets at half price—not mere tools, but a transformation of the people's lives from the roots."
At Chancellor Chae's report, Jeongjo burst into hearty laughter.
"Commendable. He showed spirit in blazing his own path, and on the land I granted, he's forged something to remake Joseon's foundations."
Jeongjo rose, gazing toward Geumho-dong.
His eyes burned not with curiosity, but longing for a new era.
"U-sang, summon the Kyujanggak scholars and Northern Learning experts. I'll go to Geumho-dong myself to witness this miracle. It's not just melting iron—it's reforging Joseon's destiny."
The furnace flames lighting Joseon's night now surged beyond the Gigi-cheong, blazing into an industrial wave under the king's full backing.