Chapter 77
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Translator: Ace
Chapter: 077
Chapter Title: Great Upheaval (2)
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Joseon Kingdom.
Northwest.
The northwest region, including Pyongyang—also known as Yugyeong—was brimming with vitality in a way entirely different from Hanyang.
The northwest had long been discriminated against.
For five hundred years under the Joseon Dynasty, the northwest had always been looked down upon.
They had waited for the world to change.
And when that moment finally arrived, the people of the northwest charged toward the new world faster than even the yangban of Hanyang.
That new world's name was...
"We pray in the name of Jesus Christ. Amen."
"Ameeeeen!!"
Yaso.
Protestantism and Catholicism had clashed first in Hanyang over the direction of their missionary work, and the flames quickly spread through Kaesong, Pyongyang, and up to Uiju.
But Catholicism could never overcome Arthur Leigh—or the royal family he carried on his back.
Joseon's Catholic missionaries did their utmost, but they still bore the scarlet letter of latent rebels. Above all, Protestantism had already completed its "Joseon optimization" ahead of them.
"The Lord hath spoken! Get rich!"
"Waaaaaah!!"
"Work hard and become wealthy! Pray, and God will answer!!"
"Begone, foul spirits! With the blessing of Yaso, son of the Supreme Lord, how dare you petty ghosts stand against him!"
"You who can't walk on water, can't feed five thousand with five loaves of barley bread and two fish, can't rise after three days—how dare you challenge Yaso!"
Even as Catholic missionaries grumbled, "You bastards, sure, but this isn't even proper Protestantism—it's just local heresy," their words fell on deaf ears. After all, calling something heresy was the greatest praise a loser could offer the victor.
After the defeated Catholics slunk off to the southern provinces in search of any hope for conversion, the Protestant missionaries—led by the Success Association, now guides of the new era—let out triumphant roars.
"Heretics worshiping Mary, blah blah blah."
"One day they're saying Jesus is Thor's brother or son of the sun god."
"Well, first the locals have to show up to church on Sundays before we can teach doctrine, right?"
Only those who agreed with this future-proof missionary skill had come to the northwest in the first place, so the reactions were predictable.
Did those peeking into churches really come seeking salvation for their souls?
Even 21st-century folks dragged to church in Nonsan chased after chocolate pies or pretty girls to walk the path of faith—19th-century Joseonites went without saying.
The church could provide what they wanted.
So they would roll up their sleeves and come to learn from us.
And the northwest folk, filled more than anyone with the soul of merchants, moved exactly like that.
"They say if you go to church, they give you cooked rice."
"That... Yaso? Yaso's like Confucius, and if you pray at his shrine, they give you food and a place to sleep."
"Just learn what those Western long-noses say, and Hanyang folk will be dying to hire you?"
God or Yaso or whatever those long-noses preached—probably something like Buddha's words, right?
The important thing was that getting friendly with them opened new ways to make money.
Pyongyang, already renowned as Joseon's richest city, and even remote Uiju at the kingdom's edge, teemed with outsiders pouring in from all eight provinces.
For starters, vast anthracite coal fields dotted Pyongan Province, including Pyongyang. Coal mined here was shipped to Hanyang, where massive urbanization was underway and ondol floors were giving way to stoves. This Pyongan coal was so high-quality that when the British saw it, their eyes nearly popped out—they reported to London, "This is a strategic resource." It wasn't for nothing that the British, facing the Crimean War, were pressuring Joseon to cooperate.
In Unsan, gold mining had begun, drawing every riffraff imaginable. Iron mines everywhere were booming, and lime was abundant nearby.
The northwest was no longer a discriminated land.
It was heaven-blessed industrial territory.
Every day, new buildings rose everywhere—factories, all of them.
Cement factories.
Tobacco factories.
Leather factories.
Brick factories.
Fresh factories springing up daily, and shops and homes for the workers sprouting just as fast.
Joseon's greatest merchant, Im Sang-ok, was preparing to leave the world for the first time upon witnessing this earth-shaking transformation.
Im Sang-ok's death was approaching.
The king of Joseon commerce, who for ten long years had monopolized the ginseng trade hand-in-glove with the powerful clans.
A merchant ghost who, far from declining with the fall of those clans, only grew his wealth day by day.
Joseon was full of arrogant merchants boasting of their prowess, but few could amass such fortunes while earning universal respect and slipping away peacefully without a knife from any enemy.
As the man seated upright opened his closed eyes, the gathered heavyweights from Song, Man, Gyeong, and Nae merchants all held their breath.
"Before this old man dies, I'm glad to have seen heaven and earth remade."
"What do you mean? You must live long—"
"A mere merchant who ate from the nation's rice, who even visited distant Japan that few ever see. I've enjoyed all life has to offer."
True to a merchant who valued time like gold, he swiftly cut off the empty longevity platitudes.
"The Western powers say commerce isn't lowly drudgery. There, even nobles and scholars don't scorn business, and it's taken for granted that dispossessed second or third sons of great houses go into trade."
"......"
"Foolish words not worth a halfpenny in Joseon—but now the world has changed, and Joseon has become that way too."
The British army had invaded, and the once-mighty seodo clans turned to salted fish.
Surviving yangban great houses lost their vast estates under land reform.
But the nation bought their lands with money instead of force, so even the most prestigious families now had to grow trading companies and build factories with that cash—or perish.
"Arthur Leigh told me: the war has already begun."
"!"
"War... you mean that one between Britain and Russia?"
"No. Not that war."
Im Sang-ok shook his head with effort.
"The new war unfolding is one fought with gold and silver."
Economic plunder.
The invasion by foreign powers seeking to devour this dirt-poor land and turn it into their plantation.
"Western goods flood in endlessly, while this poor Joseon has nothing to sell them, even if we scrub our eyes raw."
Everyone here was a merchant—how could they not know?
Everyone here was a merchant—how could they not foresee what followed?
"If this continues, we'll drown in mountains of debt. The Westerners will demand collateral from us debtors unable to pay—just as we've always done."
"Elder, please share your wisdom with us."
"If I knew, I'd have done something already, you fools."
Sell red ginseng and blue heart pills to Qing, build massive tobacco factories and export more smokes.
Im Sang-ok had found no sharp solution.
No—too old and ill, he lacked time to guide them into the new era.
But.
Tsk-tsking and giving advice was an old man's privilege.
"In my view, the answer lies there in the end."
He pointed outside.
Factories.
More factories.
Those factories multiplying furiously, as if ready to produce every cigarette every Joseonites would smoke in their lifetimes right now.
"Take ginseng: nothing in the world rivals our Goryeo ginseng—even the Chinese snap it up. So one way is producing and selling the world's top product... If that's hard, make things as cheap and plentiful as the Westerners, and sell them."
People gobble even rice cakes if they're cheap.
His final mutterings were like a grumble, but everyone present etched his words into their minds like the toll of a temple's great bell.
They'd never have another chance to ask.
"The nation clearly means to boost commerce and industry greatly, so repay His Majesty's vast grace with utmost loyalty henceforth."
"Of course."
"As you know, we can't just trade in these backwater Joseon hills anymore—we must venture into the wide world. Build big ships, get close to foreigners."
For a man on death's door, his nagging went on forever.
"If I came this far just to spout obvious nonsense you all know, you'd go home fuming about wasted time."
"Who would dare think that of your precious words, Elder?"
One who inwardly griped about the old coot's endless talk quickly blew smoke.
All merchants.
More interested in rice than sutras.
Knowing this well, Im Sang-ok decided to give them the traffic direction they'd eagerly awaited.
He—longest at Arthur Leigh's side among non-Gold Star Company Joseonites.
Arthur Leigh had taught the way of governing through Western bodily knowledge, but as a foreigner, however great, he couldn't directly sway these merchant lords.
Only he could.
Only Im Sang-ok himself could deliver Joseon-tailored answers matching Leigh's theories.
"We must build railroads from Uiju to Dongnae, Hanyang to Naju."
Rail network.
"Nae merchants must push aggressively into Japan. Japan is no barbarian land—fertile fields and endless goods await. With treaties signed for great trade, we must."
Japan expansion.
"Gando and Hamgyong's rugged terrain hinders Hanyang ties, but Russia offers new chances. Supply what they need amid this war, and it'll be a golden opportunity."
Russia trade.
He poured out all he knew, and the merchants—aware this lifeline led to new riches—silently mouthed it all to memorize.
"This old man has one final plea."
Having emptied himself, Im Sang-ok closed his eyes again.
"Don't waste effort fighting neighboring caravans or factories to win. We... all merchants and industrialists of the Three Hans... must fight together to protect this nation, to stop its people becoming debtors to the world..."
"Elder?"
"Please. Don't blind yourselves to petty profits, stab the friends guarding you, oppress the naked and poor. Build virtue, avoid grudges. Then... surely..."
"Elder!"
"My lord!!"
Im Sang-ok never opened his eyes again.
All present wept for the great merchant who had given all his wealth to the poor and departed nobly—representative of Joseon's every merchant.
Now they had to step forward.
If they didn't want to be devoured like India.