The Conquest of the Archipelago (Part 12)
On the third day of the seventh month in the lunar calendar of 1572, Yi Yeon performed the royal ancestral rite atop the peak of Ushida-san, which he had decided to rename Bullfield Mountain.
To proclaim to the heavens that the unified Dongjoseon had returned to the bosom of Joseon, and to commemorate the five-year mark since he had ascended the throne as King of Joseon.
After the ceremony, when afternoon arrived, daimyo from all corners flocked to the grand hall of Donggyeong Palace, named the Peace Hall.
The appointment ceremony was to begin.
Yi Yeon had unified Dongjoseon and abolished all the over two hundred daimyo who had risen in rebellion against it, stripping every last one of their domains and their rights.
He had done the same to the families that had opposed Joseon, and then divided Dongjoseon into eight provinces, just as Joseon had done.
Under the provinces, he restructured the military into legions and reorganized all positions and titles.
Joseon had countless titles and offices—governor, provincial governor, great military governor, prefect, military governor, county magistrate, and so on—but Dongjoseon would use only two: doji-sa and gunji-sa.
Complicated titles were unnecessary; simplicity made them easier to understand, and it made pronunciation simple for the Dongjoseon people as well.
From now on, the daimyo would no longer exist; instead, doji-sa or gunji-sa would govern the entire territory of Dongjoseon.
Only for ten years, though. After that, the Personnel Committee under the First Ministry of Foreign Affairs would decide whether they could serve another term.
The bottom thirty percent would be cut after they demonstrated results, and new appointees would take their places. The term would be changed to five years.
No one could serve a second term, so even a doji-sa or gunji-sa appointed today could hold the office for no more than twenty years before the fifteen-year limit kicked in.
Yet not a single daimyo protested.
Because Chi Shin-jang, who had led the Dongjoseon army to victory, had made one terrifyingly clear statement.
“If you don’t like it, don’t do it! Don’t argue! You don’t want to end up like Hideyoshi!”
No one in the room had missed the unspoken warning about how Hideyoshi had died, so they all kept their mouths shut.
After appointing everyone except the governor of Kan-chung-do (the main island), Yi Yeon summoned Chi Shin-jang forward.
The older man stepped out and grinned as he spoke.
“You’ve worked hard all this time, Your Majesty.”
“Not at all, Your Majesty. I was able to do it because I believed you trusted and supported me.”
“Well, thank you for your service. Now, have you decided?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I want to continue leading the Dongjoseon army.”
“What about operational command? Won’t that be a problem?”
“That doesn’t matter. I just want to follow Your Majesty to the ends of the earth.”
Yi Yeon turned to the daimyo still serving with the Dongjoseon army and told them they could choose: remain in the military or become doji-sa or gunji-sa and take up politics. The choice was free, but those who stayed in the army would have no role in politics from now on.
Most of them chose to become doji-sa or gunji-sa. Centralization had been achieved; the samurai who had marched with swords drawn when the Kyoto Gosho burned had vanished. With no military power left, they had nothing to fear from the center, and they no longer wanted to smell the blood of war.
Of course they were talking about tails and heads, but they had all decided they wanted to be snakes rather than dogs—even if only for twenty years.
Chi Shin-jang was no different.
Because his contribution had been so great, he asked to be appointed governor of Kan-chung-do, the richest territory in Dongjoseon. He accepted it without hesitation.
The next day, however, he asked for a little time to think it over. Ruling a land ten times larger than his own was tempting, but the world his Majesty had described made his heart stir with curiosity.
Yi Yeon raised an eyebrow. “I see. Then who would you recommend for Kan-chung-do?”
“Your Majesty, forgive me, but I would like to recommend my half-brother, Chi Shin-gwang—Oda Nobuhiro.”
Yi Yeon had ordered every member of Chi Shin-jang’s family, including himself, to take a Joseon-style name. “It will make their family shine,” he had said.
Chi Shin-gwang bowed his head in silence.
Yi Yeon sighed. Giving the post to the man who had so ably supported Chi Shin-jang was only fair. But granting the Chi Shin-jang family too much power felt wrong.
‘No.’
It would be better to leave a precedent. Change their surnames and names, swear loyalty to Joseon, and they would become a great clan. The Dongjoseon army had no operational command; they could not move troops at will. If anyone tried, they would be executed without question.
And the Dongjoseon army, together with the marines, would be sent south to occupy Singapore, the key port that blocked the Malacca Strait and kept Western powers at bay.
No problems should arise.
“Very well. Let it be so.”
“Thank you, Your Majesty.”
Yi Yeon had reasons for giving the daimyo positions and domains. First, their customs and way of thinking were completely different. Even though language was an easy hurdle—once interpreters were on hand and word order became familiar—customs and thinking were not. After years of study, he had discovered that these people did not share Joseon values at all. Joseon folk, no matter how poor, always spoke their minds, even as children. These islanders would bow and answer only “hai” to the simplest question, yet they whispered among themselves behind closed doors. Strange rumors began to spread. The Kyoto Gosho burned because a wicked shogun had killed the Emperor, and the dragon king from the heavens—our Joseon King—had burned the villain. The Dongjoseon army was so strong and brave only because the king had made his soldiers from dragon scales. Oda Nobunaga had changed his name and surname for the same reason. And the king ate virgins every night instead of rice. Ridiculous nonsense. No one even mentioned marriage anymore.
So Yi Yeon had started eating meals with them in public, hoping the rumors would die. But they only grew stronger. Some even suggested building shrines to the Joseon king as a dragon god. He had asked why the rumors never stopped, and the answer was simple: these were isolated islanders who had lived for generations in a world of constant war. They were not Joseon people. He could not let Joseon officials govern them. Even cooperation would be impossible; problems would only multiply. There were still many who believed in monstrous powers and insisted they must be eradicated. That was the second reason. The Joseon people were eager to ride the steam-powered panships, the Heoxin, and the Hyeongmyeong. But these islanders hid at the mere sight of a single panship. “The loud thumps come from a monster that lives inside the hull,” they claimed. “A ship without sails is a creature that swims and eats people.”
Port work became nearly impossible. Even doubling wages brought no volunteers. So the Dongjoseon army had to supply the labor. Everything had to change. Instead of Joseon officials, he would entrust administration to the Dongjoseon daimyo and station regional and provincial garrisons everywhere to keep order. That was clearly the better plan. Dongjoseon, a land of frequent earthquakes, would focus first on industry. He would build gongdan—planned industrial complexes—in the style of a future city, operating them himself at first and gradually absorbing them. That was how he had restructured Dongjoseon’s administration and appointed its managers.
After that, Yi Yeon met with Hawonggun.
“Brother, I’m sorry I kept you waiting.”
“Not at all, Your Majesty. A busy king waiting for me is only natural. But did you summon me here because of the Ministry of Internal Affairs?”
“Yes, brother. Lee Jun-gyeong collapsed a month ago and still hasn’t woken. I wanted to see him before it was too late.”
Hawonggun nodded. “I understand. But can I manage the territory well?”
“Of course. Your kind heart will make you a fine ruler of the people here.”
“I’m grateful you trust me, but I worry I won’t be able to handle it. I couldn’t even manage the sugar factory near Kaesong.” He had built a sugar refinery using beets near Kaesong and handed it to Hawonggun. One month later, the man had fled back to Hanyang like a whipped dog.
“Was it the smell?”
“Yes, but… I showed my incompetence.” Yi Yeon glanced sideways at his eldest brother and smirked. Hawonggun, looking utterly defeated, reminded him of a student caught cheating in his old school and punished with a failing grade.
“In any case, here you are the king’s brother, so you must take good care of the people of this land.”
“What do you mean, king?! I won’t hear such words. Your Majesty.”
Hawonggun’s entire body trembled with shock. It was fortunate that the king himself had said it; otherwise he would have been stripped of everything.
Yi Yeon spoke seriously. “Brother, now Joseon can call itself an imperial empire like Ming. Then it is only natural for you to become king.”
“But you said the time is not yet right, didn’t you?”
“Yes, I did. We have the strength to conquer Ming, but we lack the ability to govern it. That is why I am entrusting you with this territory and returning to Joseon. So act boldly.”
“Yes, Your Majesty. I will do my best.”
Before the archipelago was conquered, Ming had found no excuses to interfere. After the pirate king Wang Zhi was killed, the Japanese pirates had vanished, and Joseon trade was flourishing. Yi Yeon had once heard from his teacher Kim that every silver coin in the world flowed to Ming. Mingers hoarded silver as a means of wealth accumulation, so Ming was always short of it. Therefore, Ming—whose currency was silver—feared silver outflow more than anything. They even ran a tax system called “one grain per method” that made silver feel like choking the empire. So Yi Yeon had told his men not to bring silver when selling porcelain and glass mirrors to Ming, but to find other ways to pay. They had no choice but to barter gold, buy luxury silk, or shower bribes on Ming officials. That was why Ming had praised Joseon as the “country of Eastern courtesy” and never tired of compliments. But when Joseon vowed to crush the Japanese pirates and seemed about to swallow the entire Japanese nation, Ming’s opinion changed. They had traded peacefully with Joseon until now, yet no one could predict what a bloated Joseon would do next. When the news came that Joseon had seized the Japanese archipelago, Ming sent envoys at irregular intervals, inventing impossible excuses. “The Liaodong lands were only loaned, not sold, so return them immediately!” They even refused to acknowledge the false family claims. Now that Joseon had power, they could simply ignore it. But Yi Yeon sent Gwon Yul’s infantry and three thousand newly organized Hwaryeokgun troops to Banjin to build fortifications. That land was also the gateway where Ming could invade, but he had learned it held an astonishing amount of petroleum—more than anyone had expected. The reed-choked marsh had become a constant oil well; the oil seeped out steadily. They had to harvest it quickly, before the oil ran dry and turned the land barren. Of course, Ming would not invade. The rumor was that their king, Muryeongje—known as the Emperor who had once been called the Joseon Emperor—would soon die of indulgence and lust.
“Next, I wonder what Muryeongje will do…” Yi Yeon muttered to himself. He knew the Grand Secretary Zhang Juzheng’s corruption. “Should I have told him?” The information was already spilled. He ordered the marines and Dongjoseon army to occupy Singapore. Cut off the silver flowing from the Western Regions and tighten Ming’s throat. That would spark rebellion, and with that excuse, Joseon could sweep the entire country clean. * * *