The Northern Grand Prince’s Domain (1)
Min-yeol had the strange feeling that he might gain some kind of enlightenment from this Buddhist outlaw among outlaws.
To call Buddhism a religion of compassion was as violent a simplification as calling Christianity a religion of love.
Min-yeol stared at his vajra, lying there with a deep dent caved into it.
That object was the embodiment of the Vajra Warrior—the symbol of a destroyer god who crushed his enemies to pulp.
Because of the historical conditions in Joseon, Buddhism had been forced into the position of the weak. But Buddhism could do its share of destroying too. You only had to look at places like Myanmar to know that.
With a sudden, twitchy sense of something axe-like rising inside him, Min-yeol stared at Park Taesu.
Maybe they really could join hands.
Of course, Park Taesu thought that was complete bullshit. How could the man who’d just been beaten senseless talk about forming an equal alliance?
Taesu acted on that symbolic decision at once.
“Since it sounds like Itkyu wants to train here in Geumgangsan, take care of him. Let him serve as the temporary abbot or something. Make it work.”
“...What?”
As always, his style was pure peddler feudalism. Somehow, it fit Joseon disturbingly well.
Min-yeol had the same thought. This bastard feudalism was worse than those scholars from before.
He turned to Itkyu.
Honestly, this was the point where Itkyu himself should have stopped Taesu. If he had even a shred of shame.
But Itkyu used “Is that not good?” as a meditation topic and fled into the world of contemplation. The bloodline of the Japanese was already rooted at the source, like Buddha-nature itself.
There was nothing to be done. In Japan, it was customary for a samurai to be granted territory if he earned military merit under his lord.
In the end, Min-yeol spoke for himself.
“N-no. Even if we’ve committed sins, you can’t just take a whole temple away from us, can you?”
The scholars had only taken their buckwheat noodles, after all.
“I said temporary. It’s not like this temple even has anything worth taking.”
“I’m not even the leader of Dang-chwi, and I’m not the only one in it either. I agreed with you, yes, but if it turns out like this, I’ll never win the good will of my fellows!”
“Why should I do it? That’s your job.”
Min-yeol no longer had the strength to argue. So he fell silent.
Then Taesu explained why Itkyu ought to be the one managing this temple.
“You have to come with me anyway. You said you’d introduce me to those Jaegaseung people, right? While you’re at it, say a word for me to the rest of your Dang-chwi brothers too.”
The retort that rose all the way to Min-yeol’s throat was: I only had to be shaken down—why am I supposed to deliver my friends up to you for the same treatment? But it stopped there.
Come to think of it, Dang-chwi had already become hostile to Park Taesu.
Because it was an underground network, Min-yeol wasn’t the representative of Dang-chwi—but at the very least, Park Taesu was free to think of him that way.
And what had Min-yeol just been bragging about as Dang-chwi’s advantage?
A nationwide organization, like the Bobusang.
The Bobusang could easily find Dang-chwi.
And kill them too.
Of course, the Bobusang were a working class, so their path didn’t completely overlap with a bunch of bottom-of-the-barrel trash like Dang-chwi. But if they wanted to collect alms and drink, how could they possibly avoid the marketplaces?
It had been a mistake.
They should never have given this man a right to vengeance.
He had no excuse, especially since he already knew what happened to the people who granted Park Taesu that kind of revenge token.
Still, Taesu wasn’t the sort to stab someone because they’d stepped on his foot.
“And Itkyu needs to be officially in charge of this place, at least in name, so none of you end up getting screwed like today.”
It was infuriating, hearing the culprit himself say it. Min-yeol had been about to ask if Taesu was really planning to fight Itkyu, when his eyes suddenly widened.
He wasn’t talking about the ax-swinging from before.
“If it had been you, you could’ve beaten those scholars before you even reached Guryong Waterfall. But instead you let your brothers get hit and served them around?”
“Th-that was because we couldn’t let ourselves be seen...”
“Then you shouldn’t have been pulling that Dang-chwi crap at all. What did the other monks, who aren’t Dang-chwi, do to deserve it?”
Min-yeol was stunned.
Even before they could escape the shadow, they were already grabbing weaker people and shoving them into it.
Just like that state-sponsored Buddhism Min-yeol had been cursing so happily a moment ago.
Defeated on every front, Min-yeol finally sank to his knees.
“I understand. I’ll do as you say.”
The new abbot in all but name, Itkyu, patted the weeping Min-yeol with surprising gentleness. So there really was only the same lineage after all.
A little later, Min-yeol wiped away his tears and spoke.
“Still, even if I go with you, it won’t make it any easier to talk with the Jaegaseung crowd. We’re not merchants, and we don’t know traders.”
“You said you’d introduce them to me.”
“Ahem. Put the axe down and listen all the way through, will you?”
Min-yeol hurriedly explained.
* * *
In modern times there’s a tendency to hear all kinds of ghost stories about them, but the Jaegaseung are, true to the name, simply monks who live at home.
Religious figures who maintain secular life for practical reasons are not rare in the world.
In Joseon alone, the Jaegaseung of Hamgyeong Province are famous, but in truth they exist all over the country.
From the state’s point of view, they’re just people who don’t go to temples and instead pay cloth in place of corvée service. The Joseon army is almost entirely the same thing—people who don’t go off to the army but pay cloth while staying home, aren’t they?
Just as the Joseon army is formally attached to military barracks, the Jaegaseung are at least nominally attached to nearby temples.
In other words, the Jaegaseung of Hamgyeong Province certainly have a connection to Buddhism, but that connection is stronger to the local temple than to some network that must rely only on Min-yeol, living all the way out in distant Geumgangsan.
Still, the reason so many urban-legend-like records remain about them can’t be denied.
Their customs are certainly different from the rest of Joseon. That is why outsiders like Min-yeol and Dang-chwi are not dispensable either.
* * *
“You punk, why are you talking so damn much?”
“S-Sir monk, when speaking to a Dobansu, it would be better to keep it brief—just one sentence...”
Valuable knowledge, the sort that was already hard to come by in Joseon without the internet, was being trampled without mercy.
In the end, Min-yeol explained only the conclusion.
“Since there are Dang-chwi mixed in among various temples in Bu-ryeongbu and the Six Garrison districts, if I show them my mark, they’ll make the connection.”
What he handed over was Min-yeol’s vajra, already reduced to the point where it could no longer serve as a weapon.
Come to think of it, there was no better mark than that.
Just as a king hands over his sword as a sign of full authority, a weapon is as good as one’s life.
That meant Park Taesu was a man to whom Dang-chwi cadre Min-yeol could entrust his life. Well, since Taesu could kill him any time he wanted, “entrusting” it was practically just a formality.
On top of that, every member of Dang-chwi would immediately know who had made that vajra cave in like a collapsed rice cake.
Cha Un-hong asked, “No letter?”
“I’ll write one too, but there probably won’t be many people who can read it. Hardly anyone knows vernacular script, let alone proper literary Chinese.”
Taesu suddenly felt a deep sense of kinship and friendship welling up toward Dang-chwi.
“Hmm. Right. So you’ll stay here, then? Itkyu, sorry, but you can act as deputy abbot or something.”
Itkyu, who had opened his mouth to say “Ah,” soon felt relieved when he saw Min-yeol shake his head.
“Hamgyeong is a large province. It isn’t just the Six Garrisons, or the Wonsanjin port where you are headed. I’m going to travel mostly to the monks hidden around the west, near Samsu Gapsan, and pass your word along to them.”
Then they would be able to get help on the way to Pyeongan Province. Taesu’s tone, having grown gentle toward his illiterate comrades, softened as well.
“Good. Thanks. But what about the Jirisan sect over there? If I’d known this would happen, I should’ve gone to Jirisan instead of taking a boat.”
“Well, back then that route really was the best option. Thanks to that, didn’t you also get to Jeju Island?”
From the conversation that followed, Min-yeol learned that Taesu’s influence was even larger than he had expected.
So Min-yeol became a little more forward-looking.
“We don’t know much about that group of Dang-chwi either. But your name is already spreading across all eight provinces, and they’ve likely heard of you in Jirisan as well. I’ll send a man to them. This may become an opportunity for Jirisan and Geumgangsan to wipe away years of enmity and forge an accord.”
As he said that, Min-yeol suddenly gave a snort of laughter.
“Thanks to you. I can see now why people follow you even though everywhere you go ends up a sea of blood.”
Taesu, who had already written yet another promissory note as a “gift in celebration of Itkyu’s appointment as abbot of Woljeongsa in Geumgangsan,” set out with Cha Un-hong.
“I’m a little sorry we couldn’t properly take in all the twelve thousand peaks of Geumgangsan. Autumn Geumgangsan is the very foundation of the Four Geumgangs, after all. It would’ve been nice to walk there with you.”
Taesu glanced back over his shoulder.
“Once everything’s done, let’s come back. By then, maybe Itkyu will have become a dignified old monk.”
It was impossible to imagine. Cha Un-hong burst out laughing too.
“And by then, you and I will have turned into old white-haired onion roots.”
Until that time, and even after it, they would not stop walking.
Geumgangsan was close to Hamgyeong Province.
Not because much time had passed, but because of the difference in latitude, autumn somehow felt like winter as they stepped onto Hamgyeong soil.
Yongheungjiji—the land of the rising dragon.
The root of this country, founded by a usurper.
It was the land where the northern dragon, the traitor Yi Seong-gye, had once held his ground.
And according to the legend of the Bobusang, it was also the place where Yi Seong-gye, fleeing after taking an arrow to the head from some dragon slayer, had met Baek Dal-won, the “First Dobansu,” and been saved from death.
* * *
Unlike the flourishing Wonsanjin of Chungcheong Province, this Wonsanjin in Hamgyeong Province was, as the Mountain Spirit and Cha Un-hong both said, a poor little port.
But that was only by comparison with Wonsanjin in Chungcheong, Gangjin in Jeolla, or Dongnae in Gyeongsang.
By the nineteenth century, Wonsan was beginning to develop a commercial sphere of its own. If there were truly nothing here, it would never have become a treaty port.
The main goods being traded were, naturally, fish—the representative produce of any coastal town.
And among those, there was the specialty of Hamgyeong Province: dried pollock.
Taesu had been wondering whether, since he was in Hamgyeong, he ought to make some abae sundae next, when Cha Un-hong asked for something else instead of some elaborate dish.
“I tasted some dried pollock earlier and it was good. Let’s cut that up, boil it with steamed rice, and make porridge.”
Taesu had been about to say that they’d come to a port, so why was she talking like this was street food from a journey, when he suddenly brightened.
He patted Cha Un-hong on the head.
“All right. I’ll make it like I did when we first met by the Imjin River.”
“Hehe. And let’s add some Englishmen’s canned food too—”
“Don’t. Get out of here.”
Whether the Dang-chwi had really been that quick, or whether word had already come through Gwanbuk Dae-ro from Gyeonggi beforehand, the northern merchants here recognized Taesu.
The northern merchants were unlike the peddlers or the Naesang.
They were a merchant group still in the process of being formed, in a Hamgyeong that had once been a barren frontier.
It had to be that way.
The peddlers, the Naesang, and the Kangsang that had existed since early Joseon, as well as the Song merchants who had existed even before Joseon itself, developed because their regions were stable.
But this place had once been the front line of a brutal war against the Great Murloc tribes. The whole population had been berserk, so the merchants had simply needed to haul medicine as fast as possible.
Even after Sejong’s conquest, rice did not suddenly start springing up in abundance.
The army of terror Sejong had unleashed was on a completely different level from the Joseon army of today.
They were true harbingers of destruction and the end of every filthy barbarian tribe. Queue-haired savages and the island of lies alike would be slaughtered and then burned to ash.
Because of that, the Joseon army of the present wasn’t very good at the kind of economic creation it was good at now.
After much thought, Sejong carried out that creation in his own way.
Yet even the most merciless forced migration—so severe that the people of the Three Southern Provinces would rather cut off their own arms or beat their sons to death than be taken away—did not greatly change Hamgyeong.
In the end, what transformed Hamgyeong into something resembling the human world was four hundred years of time.
As the nineteenth century arrived, the commercial networks that had formed and the growing consumer power of the southern regions increased demand in the north as well.
The newly born Hamgyeong market was like a vigorous young man.
So instead of hostile localism, the northern merchants showed flexibility toward Taesu.
Localism belongs to those who think they have nothing to lose, and these men still had plenty to lose. In particular, as a port, Wonsan was interested in the Bobusang shipping line under Park Taesu.
“With that build and that axe, isn’t that Park Taesu from Ganghwa?”
“Hah. I’d heard he swept across the country like a royal inspector with only a single servant, but it seems the stories were true.”
“To think he came all the way to this backwater. So he really does treat people without distinction.”
Then, someone who looked more like a yangban than a merchant approached.
“Do you fellows have nowhere to stay? Why are you making a fire here?”
Taesu, who had thought that because this was Joseon he could just go full wild-man anywhere, suddenly felt a modern person’s awkward panic.
He said to the man, who looked about forty—though in fact he was younger—“Is that not allowed? Then we’ll move somewhere else.”
“No, that’s not what I meant. I was just wondering why someone like Park Taesu wouldn’t stay somewhere spacious and was instead doing this here.”
“Well, it doesn’t seem like there are many inns around here...”
As Taesu spoke, he looked around.
The scholar-merchant seized on that as if he had been waiting for it.
“Just as I heard. You’re quite an easygoing fellow. There are fewer places here than in the city, of course, but if you go over there, you’ll find a cluster of lodgings. There aren’t many itinerant peddlers here, but I can introduce you to a place that also serves as a trading house.”
Taesu was a little confused. He had never met anyone in Joseon who treated strangers with such kindness.
Is he a con man?
[As they say, you only see what you’re looking for...]
In truth, the greater fault lay with Joseon and Korea for having ruined people’s instincts.
But if you suddenly beat up someone who had done nothing—much less someone this friendly—then you weren’t a righteous hero. You were just a thug.
So Taesu answered with considerable caution.
“Uh... I appreciate it. But how does a scholar know so much about inns?”
The scholar was refreshingly straightforward again.
“I’m from Nampyeong Yi clan, and my courtesy name is Si-eon. I’m a man from Myeongcheon County up north. I did study for the civil exam once, but our household circumstances were difficult, so I turned to commerce. Even now, I’m on my way back after transporting northern hemp cloth by horse.”
He did not offer his given name, but even if he had said he was Lee Hak-sin, Taesu would not have known the name anyway.
Still, anyone with an interest in history might recognize the name of Lee Eong-ik, his son and a future Minister of Military Affairs of the Korean Empire.
Author’s Note
1. Hamgyeong is often known as the place where criminals were exiled, but that is a later development. From Sejong’s reign through the mid-Joseon period, they mostly took away ordinary commoners from wealthy households who hadn’t committed crimes.
Sejong had conquered the region in order to incorporate the Six Garrisons into the country, so he needed capable people. If he sent poor people, they’d just starve to death immediately.
That is why many of the ancestors of people from Hamgyeong are actually from the Three Southern Provinces. The arm-cutting incident was under Sejong, while the failed attempt to beat his son to death and get taken away happened under Seongjong.
2. Lee Hak-sin was his original name, and he later changed it to “Lee Byeong-hyo.” He benefited greatly from his son Lee Yong-ik, who managed Emperor Gojong’s hidden funds, and that is why the latter name is more widely known. He was definitely a licentiate, and according to transmitted accounts, he was also a horse trader, which seems plausible given the location of his hometown.