Chapter 26
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 026
Chapter Title: The Second Wave of Expansive Free Trade
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Arthur Leigh, who wasn't particularly well-versed in history, and King Firebelly Toad at his side had no idea.
In truth, they had already twisted European and world history beyond recognition.
It all began with a book penned by some 21st-century salesman eager to pad his reputation and pockets.
"The Far East!"
"Is that the level of civilization in China and Joseon?"
"A nation called Ganghwa that welcomed the Gospel on its own—a first in history. Maybe Prester John was real after all?"
The 19th century was the age of literature.
From Britain and France to Germany, Austria, Russia, and even backwater America across the Atlantic, literary giants destined to etch their names into history poured forth one after another.
In this era before radio and television, books, newspapers, and magazines were the most potent cultural bombshells capable of swaying people worldwide.
No flimsy copyright law could stop masterpieces like that book from flooding the global market. Even if the British Empire was dubbed a nation of pirates, controlling pirated editions was impossible.
Once that book crossed the Dover Strait, it immediately ruffled French feathers.
"This brat is Britain's top Far East expert?"
"We've been studying Chinese scholarship since Louis XIV's time, and now some kid who lived a few years in a backwater like Joseon claims we're behind?"
"We might lead in Sinology... but Joseon? Eh, just another ordinary vassal of China."
"But the book says Joseon was once a rival kingdom competing with China and Manchuria!"
Moreover, that book dedicated an entire chapter to lambasting Catholicism.
[Ancestor worship is the most universal rite in Chinese civilization. To be recognized as human in the Far East, one must perform sacrifices.]
[Some uneducated commoners ignorant of Confucian scriptures believe ancestors' spirits and ghosts return from the afterlife to eat the sacrificial food. But even slightly educated nobles never buy that—]
[Joseonites interested in Christ's teachings all spat in disgust at the part forbidding sacrifices, exclaiming in shock: 'Do Europeans truly not revere their parents and ancestors? If Jesus was a sage, how could his teachings encourage filial impiety?']
[Missionaries from the Paris Foreign Missions Society, led by Bishop Imbert, were truly noble and pure souls. Yet they were shackled by the Pope's solemn decree against sacrifices and ultimately failed in their mission.]
[Solve the sacrifice issue, and many Joseonites would gladly embrace Jesus Christ's teachings.]
French public opinion exploded, and riding that wave, French authorities piled intense pressure on the Vatican to reconsider the sacrifice ban.
And one more thing.
"Welcome, gentlemen from Joseon!"
"A city this prosperous... unbelievable!"
"Joseon was truly like a frog in a well...!"
When the French heard Arthur Leigh had invited Joseonite seminarians to London, they naturally interpreted it in classic French fashion.
In other words.
Instead of sending the Joseonites Arthur wanted to meet—Kim Daegun and Choi Yang-eop—to London, they summoned them to Paris for lavish treatment.
"That villain Arthur Leigh is obviously dragging piracy into Joseon. We need to cultivate locals who understand French liberty and might."
"Exactly. If they return home fond of France and spread the faith, Joseonites will naturally side with us over Britain."
Their scheme hit the mark.
The Vatican in Rome threw a fit, raging that the French Republic was corrupting their seminarians, but it wasn't a bad deal for the two Joseonites.
They became the first Joseonites to officially visit Paris and Rome, receiving theological training alongside exposure to France's latest culture and scholarship before heading back to Macau, awaiting the day they could return home.
And then.
"Our great French Republic will soon dispatch a fleet to Joseon and Japan to demand justice for the murdered missionaries."
This wasn't what they had hoped for.
Having glimpsed the ugly face of imperialism lurking beneath the mask of faith, the young Joseonite missionaries' expressions remained clouded.
Arthur Leigh.
Hong Kong's breakout star.
Naturally, Leigh & Gladstone Company didn't deal in red ginseng.
Everyone in Joseon, the Qing, and Britain knew Joseon was firmly isolationist, forbidden from trading freely with foreigners without its suzerain Qing's permission.
Sudden red ginseng flooding open ports like Hong Kong or Guangzhou?
Obviously the work of 'smugglers.' Shady merchants duping fools by passing off inferior American ginseng as premium Korean stuff. As if the upright, reputable Arthur Leigh's firm would stoop to smuggling. Honorable, faithful Britons turned a deaf ear to such vile rumors.
Sure, Arthur had struck it rich, but only by scrappy startup standards.
Yet merchants in Hong Kong, Guangzhou, and Macau zeroed in on one fact: this windfall hailed from the mysterious land of Joseon.
The most profitable trade was swapping gold and bullets (or plunder, as the uncouth called it). Next best was cozying up to those in power and sucking the sweet nectar.
Anyone could see Arthur was nailing the latter.
If Joseon ever opened, his cut would skyrocket.
All of Hong Kong hung on Arthur's every word and move.
"What do I think of the China trade? Well, silverware's a no-go, at least."
"The Chinese don't hate cotton cloth. From what I see, demand will be huge in the Beijing area—what they call Huabei."
"Why stockpile small ships? Checked out Joseon's coastal shipping; our advanced small freighters should sell well. No deepwater ports for big vessels yet, so small ships it is."
"Lend our ships to Chinese now? No way. Who knows if they'd use them for piracy or smuggling?"
Normal merchants hoarded their secrets like treasure, but Arthur blared his insights for all to hear.
"Kid's head getting too big from a little success—"
"Nonsense. He's playing it smart."
"That?"
"Joseon's small but a real country. He's spilling on China trade to ward off meddlers from Joseon."
"Hmm..."
Of course, any merchant worth his salt wouldn't back off that easily.
"Just offer better terms than that punk! I'll make a killing in Joseon too!"
But most bizarrely.
Oddly, those gunning for Joseon trade met pirates at unusually high rates.
"Pirates, you say? Horrific. Probably because Joseon lacks a proper navy. It needs to open up soon for peace in the Yellow Sea."
Some spat venomous tales of Arthur colluding with Canton Pirates, but this young trader confronted rumormongers without hesitation.
"Sorry, no more business with you."
"Why the sudden change?!"
"Not red ginseng... er, a valued partner of ours finds you distasteful."
"Arthur! That Arthur Leigh, right?!"
"No idea. Be off with you."
Who moves like a greenhorn under twenty?
Setting aside tabloid trash about pirate honeymoons, he'd somehow greased the wheels with Chinese merchants and greased palms with local officials too.
Hong Kong merchants soon learned Arthur was hobnobbing with haughty Chinese elites at soirees debating poetry and Confucianism.
Worlds apart.
Ink wash paintings and poetry games, bro-ing out with Qing officials—how do you even compete?
That book hadn't sailed back to Joseon since its debut voyage, sticking to Singapore, Java, India routes, but Arthur shunned ships for building what they called 'guanxi.'
In short.
The incident on some Chinese riverbank had zero ties to Arthur.
Westerners were money-mad.
Chinese knew it—warmongers who'd fight over opium sales.
But greed knew no race. Chinese weren't exempt.
"Heh! Time for another fun profit haul!"
"Ton ton—"
Western merchants who'd crossed oceans for any moneymaker.
And Chinese pirates who killed for coin.
Their unholy alliance was terrifyingly destructive.
"Hahaha! This flag works wonders!"
"Even the spineless officials look the other way—hilarious, boss!"
"Told you not to call me boss!"
Seeing Arthur snap up small ships, rivals aped him like Warren Buffett groupies, hoarding schooners competitively.
But they weren't Arthur.
That book brazenly whined 'our small ships all sank in a storm,' but anyone with eyes knew they'd been quietly dumped in Joseon. Just look at Arthur's shiny new Hong Kong mansion.
Unsold ships rotted away, and desperate merchants hatched a killer idea.
Lease to pirates.
Take this one: British-registered, Irish figurehead captain, all-Chinese crew—a freakish pirate vessel.
Yet fluttering the Union Jack, none dared intervene.
Until yesterday.
"No more! Round up every last pirate!!"
"Ram them! Take 'em all alive!"
"Run for it!!!"
"Ton! Ton toon!!"
1851.
The skiff with just 13 aboard fell to Qing troops without a fight.
"How could this happen?!"
"...Pardon?"
"That ship's British! Our flag was flying!"
"Indeed. Those pirates dared impersonate the Empire—"
"But how dare they insult our precious flag by burning it?!"
"What? No fire, ship's fine."
"Insulting our flag! Unforgivable! You devils! Knew it since you barbarians sneered 'foreigner' at us! China!! Time to teach you a lesson!!"
"?????"
A casus belli eclipsing even the First Opium War in absurdity.
And so, the Second Opium War began.