Chapter 61
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 061
Chapter Title: Reverse Unyo-ho (1)
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The Second Opium War had ended, but that didn't mean China's wars were over.
The Taiping Heavenly Kingdom was still growing its terrifying power, effectively controlling swathes of the Yangtze River Delta, while in the north, Nian rebels and other insurgents rampaged unchecked.
Nations across the region were staking their very survival on monitoring China's every move.
The country once thought to be the world's mightiest had seen its capital go up in flames in an instant. Was the Qing weakening? Or were the Western barbarians that overwhelmingly strong?
For Joseon, the calculations were far more complex.
They weren't mere spectators. From the moment British forces landed on Ganghwa Island, Joseon had been unwillingly dragged into the ring.
Should they uphold tributary relations with the Qing and fight the British? Or declare Britain the new Middle Kingdom and send relations with the Qing straight to hell?
Joseon chose the latter. They didn't fancy getting beaten right away, after all. As a result, thwarting the Qing's inevitable military bluster—or outright invasion—became a core national agenda.
So.
"A hundred thousand reinforcements?"
"Yes, Your Majesty. As Yi I of the Yulgok lineage once argued, raising just a hundred thousand elite troops would suffice to conquer Liaodong and secure our realm."
The goal of maintaining an army of a hundred thousand by 1865 felt downright dizzying.
Foreign advisory teams balked at the sheer madness of it, but the Joseon officials remained unfazed.
"When the Japanese invaded during the Imjin War, we mobilized an army just shy of two hundred thousand. Our nation is far stronger now than it was then—how could we fail to raise a hundred thousand elites?"
"A full-time professional force of a hundred thousand would be impossible, of course. But rally the loyal, patriotic young men of the land, and a hundred thousand is nothing. We could hit three hundred thousand."
"We've reviewed the Western histories, and their people lack true patriotism and kinship. Their armies are mere mercenaries paid in gold or nobles moved by grants of land. But in our East, from time immemorial, when invaders came, all united as one to take up arms. In this land of profound Neo-Confucian roots, military service as a duty of every citizen is a truth even a child knows."
Just conscript them!
Western military experts would have foamed at the mouth, but the court nodded along to the confident assertions from the Military Affairs Office.
Twenty thousand British troops had toppled Beijing, so twenty times that—four hundred thousand slightly less elite Joseon soldiers—should do the trick. No, if it was just holding the line without torching the place, half that, two hundred thousand, ought to suffice?
It was miracle logic through and through, but even a late-term conscript from 21st-century South Korea's six-hundred-thousand-strong army found himself thinking, Well... yeah, maybe? And so the court discussion concluded.
"How do we even conscript? You think the people will just go quietly?"
"We're exempting them from military cloth taxes in exchange for not sending them to the army right now. Enlist them, and our tax revenue drops that much!"
Practical concerns did arise. But the half-baked modernizers in the Military Reform Bureau had already prepared for that.
"As you know, with this year's tax reforms wrapping up, we'll be conducting a major household registry overhaul alongside land redistribution."
"No registry entry, no land—who'd refuse the survey? Ha ha ha."
"No time since Dangun has been riper for a census. It'll only get harder later."
The officials now in the new Ministry of Finance were like primitives tasting otherworldly knowledge daily, constantly wide-eyed in amazement.
Ah, this is tariffs. Tax imports and exports, and you rake in a fortune.
Good lord! They fleece people like this!
Ah, stamp duty. Hard to beat for easy revenue.
With stamps, we could roll out monopolies way smoother! Brilliant!!
Ah, income tax. The hot new trend fresh in Europe...
Eh, this one's iffy.
How obsessed were those Western powers with taxation to dream up such a colorful array? Hearing about inheritance taxes, hearth taxes, window taxes, beard taxes, hat taxes—it made the West seem like tax hell, while this Joseon felt like a beacon of civilization.
The enlightened Finance Ministry bureaucrats now spent their days—meals included—debating new taxes to invent.
"What about a tax on topknots?"
"That'd spark a real revolt."
"Taxes on rickshaws and carriages?"
"Not bad!"
"The merchants at Panmungate would riot."
"Even Counselor Hwanjae needs to pay up more."
"Fine. Rickshaw tax, carriage tax. Next?"
"Tax childless bachelor households."
"Gate taxes every time they pass the four gates—"
Even this chaos beat pre-reform Joseon. They'd introduced a new paradigm: budgets. Better than the old Eastern indirect taxes on iron or salt, at least. And unlike before, when central, local, and military authorities all skimmed taxes separately, now everything was consolidated—strict budgets from the capital only. That alone slashed the tax burden on commoners dramatically.
With taxes squeezed so relentlessly to build the army...
It was only natural that stray thoughts began creeping into the ministers' minds.
Any way to turn a profit with this army?
Wasteful to let them sit idle. There must be something...
Joseon officials still offered only commonsense answers.
Hunting tigers thick in the hills, or deploying troops for state construction projects.
But how long that would last was anyone's guess.
Japan.
While Joseon reeled from a British storm that toppled its top powerbroker in a terrifying upheaval, its neighbor Japan couldn't possibly stay unscathed.
"You have a simple choice: befriend us and join together, or face war. The United States stands ready to respond accordingly, whatever you decide."
Compared to original history, Japan's black ships opening was far more aggressive. Britain and France had sailed east with full silverware sets, intent on devouring the region. Anxious that America might get shut out entirely, the U.S. government resolved to force Japan open. That was the direct cause.
The indirect cause? No need to spell it out—the arrival of him.
America's ambitions in Asia swelled massively, accelerating their spoon-dipping frenzy.
The resulting treaty sent Japan's politics into a breathless frenzy.
"How dare you sign such a momentous pact without the Emperor's approval, acting on your own whim!"
"Then you want war?"
"If need be!"
"Joseon crumbled to the English barbarians overnight, and mighty China lost twice! War? You're insane!"
"Everyone, stop fighting—unite against the national crisis—"
"Revere the Emperor, expel the barbarians! Down with the Shogunate!!"
"You insolent dogs—I'll kill you all!!"
This era's Joseon, Qing, and Japan shared one thing.
The end times. Systemic contradictions laid bare, ominous internal discord creaking before any foreign invasion.
And when a nation nears collapse, anomalies always plague the sovereign.
As Joseon's dynasty stumbled through child-king Heonjong, woodcutter Cheoljong, child-king Gojong—a triple whammy eroding legitimacy—so too was the Edo Shogunate treading the same path.
Tokugawa Ienari, the shogun who sired 55 children in 51 years and left the realm in shambles.
Tokugawa Ieyoshi, who tried reforming amid famine, failed, and died of illness.
The current shogun? Tokugawa Iesada, forever etched in history as the "Plague Shogun." Crippled by cerebral palsy and severe intellectual disability, unable to sire heirs, he ascended at this pivotal moment—body and mind frail.
All who cared for Japan's future agonized.
What should become of this nation?
How to preserve it going forward?
Countless vied for answers, and to impose theirs, they had to crush rivals' visions.
With pandemonium set to upend the shogunate and Japan entire...
An urgent report arrived from a tiny, lonely island no one cared about.
"Tsushima's lord reports the Joseon folk wish to dispatch an embassy."
"The Joseon folk?"
Embassies had ended long ago.
Custom dictated Joseon send one upon a new shogun's investiture, but that tradition had faded into obscurity.
Now, resuming them?
A request from Joseon—unprecedented?
"At last, the Joseon dogs bow to Japan's dignity!"
"With the new shogun enthroned, they're using it as pretext to grovel!"
Courtesy praise for the shogun and shogunate first, of course.
Frogs in wells with nativist brains might buy it, but no senior shogunate official in their right mind would spout such drivel amid grave affairs.
"While we faced the American barbarians, I hear Joseon fell to the Englishmen and submitted."
"Britain's doing, then?"
"Even the Qing begged peace after losing to Britain. Japan alone stands defiant and proud against the Western barbarians—don't they desperately need our aid?"
Tsushima relayed Joseon's intent: concise and clear.
"What's the catch?"
"No teeth, and the gums ache. No harm in bolstering ties with Joseon."
"Suspicious stirrings in some domains—embassies have always been prime for showcasing shogunate authority."
"Records show each one cost over a year's budget. The last turned back at Tsushima, not Edo. Where's the money?!"
Buy prestige with cash, or not?
Mid-fierce debate, a separate informal letter from Joseon's Foreign Ministry arrived via American merchants.
"Joseon seems in quite a hurry."
"Overland, straight to Edo—costs would plummet."
"Fine. Let's hear what the Joseon dogs want."
And so, in 1854.
Japan decided to receive the embassy.
But.
"Ships approaching!"
"Western ships! Western ships again!!"
"Joseon bastards... how many did they bring?!"
A few too many.
Five Western-style warships appeared, flying an enigmatic Taegeuk flag unlike any they'd seen.
"Grateful for the warm welcome. I am Yi Ha-eung, Prince Heungseon, chief envoy of this embassy and Joseon's Foreign Minister."
Heir to the Iron Fist Divine Art, Prince Heungseon.
"Arthur Leigh, advisor to Joseon's diplomacy."
The blue-eyed scholar, the human embodiment of the British Empire, Arthur Leigh.
"Im Sang-ok here, lowly customs clerk at Joseon's maritime bureau."
Beijing ginseng arsonist Im Sang-ok.
The Japanese had no inkling that Joseon had sent its most ruthless monsters en masse.