Activating the Money Economy, Part 3
Hwang Cheol-un, who had been left behind on Goerido to manufacture counterfeit money, only belatedly began to feel a bad premonition.
Seven thousand nyang was 700,000 copper coins. So his accomplice in fraud, Park Mun-hong, had taken the largest boat. If government troops came charging in, there would be no way to flee.
But then again, no one lived their life preparing for every possible disaster.
Hwang Cheol-un waited for Park Mun-hong to return, nursing only the kind of tension you feel when you park illegally and tell yourself, Surely they won’t tow it.
Then the cannon fire rang out, booming across the island like the shrill blast of a district office clerk’s whistle.
“W-what the hell?”
Hwang Cheol-un scrambled outside.
And then he regretted not keeping his promise with Park Axe.
Not because of the money he had siphoned off. Park Axe had not come knowing about that—at least, that was what Hwang Cheol-un believed.
Park Axe had kept his promise.
He had really brought several bronze cannon with him.
And he was firing them at the boats of the counterfeiters, which had been left scattered around Goerido.
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If there was any room for negotiation with the Ganghwado government troops, the island’s local boatmen were far above the likes of Hwang Cheol-un.
There had been a few private clashes between the Jinmu Naval Camp and civilians, but if anyone investigated, the first thing that would come to light would be the navy’s own abuse of the common people.
So the matter became “something that never happened.” The strong, elite, always-victorious navy was, as ever, a model unit devoted to harmony with the people.
Which meant it was hardly difficult for the boatmen to buy artillery from the government troops. They even got gunpowder thrown in as a service.
It was just as easy for Taesu, who unofficially bore responsibility for Ganghwado’s defenses, to buy back that same “military equipment for blocking the barbarians.”
In any case, it was all loaded onto boats other than Taesu’s own skiff, the one he couldn’t use to fire a cannon anyway.
In other words, it was the first fleet of the Ganghwado peddlers’ association.
Among the members of the Ganghwado Imbang Dongmongcheong were men who had once served in the navy and then run away—meaning, to put it plainly, ex-convicts.
They flaunted their naval experience without restraint.
“By order of the guild head! Do not let a single thing on land be damaged!”
“Blast the enemy boats and break them apart! Don’t let even one escape!”
Of course, their level was crude. In truth, not a single boat was actually destroyed, and the cannons served mostly to make a lot of noise.
So Hwang Cheol-un’s gang had the distinct feeling they were under attack by government troops.
When people said Joseon was a nation where civil and military affairs were one, it did not mean the people were as brave as soldiers; it meant the soldiers were as peaceful as common folk.
That handiwork was really nothing like the government army, was it? It wasn’t unreasonable for Hwang Cheol-un to reach the following conclusion.
“Park Axe has colluded with the government troops! So he struck first!”
The other gangs left behind were no different. Terrified, they milled about in confusion.
And so, until the Ganghwado Imbang Dongmongcheong swaggered in and landed, there was no resistance at all.
Taesu thrust his iron axe forward and said, “I came to collect my money.”
Hwang Cheol-un swallowed hard.
The numbers aren’t all that many, but…
That much was true on this side as well.
If the Mountain Spirit had heard him, he would have laughed, but Hwang Cheol-un keenly felt Park Axe’s cunning wisdom.
Park Mun-hong had taken a fair number of laborers along just to haul the 700,000 copper coins. Even including the craftsmen here, the number of men Hwang Cheol-un had left behind was not much greater than the number Park Axe had brought.
Fortunately, Hwang Cheol-un’s despair was delayed a little.
As always, there were not no people. There were simply no usable people.
One man, tall and sharp-eyed, with a build better than Park Axe’s but still not enough to look down on him, stepped forward, stroking his beard with his sleeve.
“What sort of man are you, to start quaking before the fight has even begun? This is exactly why I am here!”
Hwang Cheol-un broke into a broad smile. At least one of his men was worth the price.
“Yang-won, if you’ll step forward, you’ll be worth ten thousand soldiers!”
Mercenaries were not found only in China, and it was not only Sima Qian who wrote the Biographies of Wandering Knights.
This was Kim Yang-won, the fighting poet who had also been included in Hosan Oegi, the Joseon Biographies of Wandering Knights of the nineteenth century.
Kim Yang-won strode out, swinging a staff almost as tall as he was.
The staff was unusual indeed: instead of being round, it was a kind of triangular prism.
Five or six iron rings had been tightly bound around it to reinforce its durability, and the tip had been sharpened to a triangular point.
It was a Samneungjang, a close-combat weapon encouraged by King Injo after the Manchu invasion, just as King Seonjo had encouraged byeonggon after the Imjin War broke out.
Injo, that alpha male who only fought stronger opponents, had said that when war broke out with Qing China, this was the thing to use to defend the fortress.
In fact, Namhansanseong did not fall.
Injo did. Victory and defeat depended on the man, not the weapon.
Still, Kim Yang-won did not look like the kind to bend his waist so easily, like Injo.
The battle rapper Kim Yang-won spun that absurdly oversized weapon as lightly as if it were a simple stick.
Then he planted it upside down into the ground.
“I’ve only recently heard the name Park Axe. It feels like a fine poem will come of this. Come now, let us test each other for a thousand exchanges, I, Kim Yang-won, and you!”
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The Mountain Spirit said, [A fighting troupe bought with money. Not worth dealing with. Blow that fool away with the cannon behind him.]
It really was a very on-brand remark, but I couldn’t do that now.
It wasn’t that I was some battle-crazed maniac itching to test my martial skill against him. Rumors had gotten strangely out of hand, but I was a modern man; I had never learned any combat art that used an axe.
My goal was this facility and the blacksmiths attached to it.
Even if the facility itself was one thing, if the men who were going to work here looked down on me, I’d have a hard time running this workshop in the future.
If someone challenged me to a duel and I killed him from far away like a rat in the shadows, who would ever acknowledge me?
I didn’t especially want to brag about brawling, but this was a place where I had to step up.
I couldn’t just tell the kids like Yu-jak, who were keeping silver axes safe in the back, to go take care of it. That guy looked like he had some real skill, but the Dongmongcheong brats behind him didn’t seem like they’d be much of a match either.
But the Joseon people seemed to enjoy fighting more than I’d expected.
One of them stepped forward enthusiastically.
“You there! You think you’re qualified to judge Park Guild Head’s martial arts? Why use an ox-slaughtering knife to kill a chicken!”
He looked like some sort of Dongmongcheong officer, though I’d forgotten his name.
While I was feeling vaguely sorry about that in my head, his boastful declaration continued.
“Since you’ve come out holding a staff, I, Gwak Cheong-gye, who served the guild head at Chojijin, will beat you down like a dog on Dano with the staff techniques I learned at Cheonggyecheon!”
[That won’t be bad. The beggars of Cheonggyecheon are fellows with some strength in them.]
What was that supposed to mean? Some kind of Beggars’ Sect? Was it the Dog-Beating Staff Technique or whatever?
I didn’t really remember, because the secondhand wuxia novels I’d read in the “library,” which had more mold than books, had only had me skimming the lewd parts.
Gwak Cheong-gye—right, now I remembered the name—came charging in, whirling his pole-arm like a pinwheel.
“You’re about to be in the same shape as those French barbarians whose heads this old man once smashed! Guild Head, watch the valor of this Gwak Cheong-gye!”
I had a bad feeling about this.
Just from the way he was planting his feet, I could tell he wasn’t someone with much actual martial experience.
And my hunch was right.
Because Gwak Cheong-gye wasn’t stepping properly, the downward strikes of his pole-arm carried almost no force. His waist was bent awkwardly, so he was just swinging with arm strength alone. Besides, if your weapon is lighter than your opponent’s, you should be thrusting, not trying to smash downward.
I didn’t close my eyes out of respect for Gwak Cheong-gye’s bravery.
So I had to watch Kim Yang-won’s full swing, which casually deflected his staff and snapped both the weapon and the man in one go.
“Gah!”
Gwak Cheong-gye rolled across the ground.
I’d spent some time hanging around with the Dongmongcheong boys lately, and I’d learned that premodern fighting didn’t have many techniques that assumed modern ground conditions.
That was because the moment you went down, you got killed by the sword or spear in the other guy’s hand. The important thing was not to go down in the first place.
Kim Yang-won was the same. He lifted that bizarre staff high and tried to skewer Gwak Cheong-gye.
No matter how much it’s made of wood, it can still kill.
I snatched the silver axe from Yu-jak beside me.
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Kim Yang-won flinched at the shout that seemed to sweep across his body.
It wasn’t words, but the meaning came through, like the roar of a beast I’d once heard while hunting in the old days.
So Kim Yang-won managed to raise his Samneungjang and deflect the silver axe Taesu hurled at his head just before it was smashed in.
“Khk!”
The staggering Kim Yang-won was startled beyond belief.
Am I being pushed back?
Only after seeing the silver axe that had fallen to the ground did Kim Yang-won understand it scientifically. Silver was heavier than iron.
But economically, it made no sense at all.
And finally, the sight of Park Axe when Kim Yang-won lifted his head was impossible to understand from a humanistic perspective.
From the fact that he had run all the way here, Park Axe should have had enough opening to exploit.
But he didn’t.
Kim Yang-won glanced at Gwak Cheong-gye. Then he wiped him completely from his mind and readjusted his Samneungjang in both hands.
“So you’re one of those righteous hooligans, too. Very well. Let’s do this properly, man to man.”
Kim Yang-won took a wide step and thrust out his staff. It was already outrageously long, and with his footwork added in, to Taesu it felt almost like teleportation.
But if you broke down the principle, it was like a jab. Taesu dodged by twisting his body at the very last second, accepting that his clothes would be torn.
Then he brought down his ex-class axe on the extended Samneungjang.
This was the same axe that had broken a gun; wood was nothing to it.
But Kim Yang-won was not someone to take lightly either.
Clang!
What was that?
Anyone could see that he twisted his wrist in an instant and blocked it with the iron ring section.
But the clever way he let the force flow away at an angle was the kind of technique anybody could see and nobody could truly see at the same time.
“Haha! Your strength seems impressive, but from the looks of it, your technique is still crude!”
[Th-that man doesn’t even have a god dwelling in him, like this body does?]
Taesu ignored the Mountain Spirit’s absurd chatter.
Instead, he used a weapon he trusted more than the axe.
An axe isn’t a weapon that can thrust, so its trajectory is limited. Kim Yang-won naturally expected Taesu to keep swinging the axe and was preparing his next attack accordingly.
So Taesu’s knee, driving in from below where the axe “couldn’t come,” was a grievous blow.
“Guh!”
Kim Yang-won bent over, feeling as though his guts might come spilling out.
At this distance, the length of the Samneungjang was not an advantage but a hindrance. As Taesu stomped down hard on Injo’s weapon with his left foot, the staff head slammed into the ground like a man performing a deep bow before the king.
Using the force of that planted staff, Taesu twisted his waist.
His elbow slammed hard into Kim Yang-won’s cheek. Kim Yang-won spun round and round like a figure skater before collapsing.
Having kicked the staff aside, Taesu leveled his axe at Kim Yang-won.
Even with a jaw that looked like it could barely form words, Kim Yang-won somehow recited his line.
“Ugh… the rumors cannot keep up with the real thing. I have no regret about dying as a man and a warrior. Only grant me one last verse before I die, will you not?”
“What bullshit. You’re a thug, so why are you acting high and mighty just because you learned a thing or two?”
Taesu stomped repeatedly on Kim Yang-won with the heel of his boot. The Mountain Spirit said with some distaste, [You are so ignorant that you know nothing of letters or poetry, and yet you take your frustration out like that…]
Shut up.
Even putting Taesu’s strength aside, a military boot and a straw sandal existed on entirely different levels when it came to striking power. Kim Yang-won, battered by the humiliation of being uneducated, learned with his whole body how terrifying that misery could be and passed out.
Taesu turned his burning gaze on the remaining counterfeiters.
With Kim Yang-won—whom they had trusted as firmly as a mountain—thrown down, the rest of the gang backed away with pale faces. The reason they didn’t turn and run was that the mother sea behind them was even more hopeless than Park Axe.
Hwang Cheol-un, in a fit of desperation, proposed a new tactic.
“A-all of you, rush him at once and take down Park Axe alone! The rest of them are nothing! You saw that fellow waving a staff around and acting big before he got sent flying, didn’t you?”
Gwak Cheong-gye, the one who had been waving a staff around and acting big before getting sent flying, sprang up in outrage at the insult.
From his vigorous condition, Taesu realized Kim Yang-won had gone easy on him a little.
The rough outline was clear now. Only one thing remained to be done.
Taesu set aside the other weapons and the bare fists, and took up his axe.
[Oh, going to kill them with the axe? So you, too, are coveting power!]
The voice sounded like that of a sly devil delighting in the fall of its sacrifice.
But Taesu didn’t see it as a fall.
Even if his liberation from the Mountain Spirit was delayed, he felt he had to uphold the true nature of this axe.
Taesu ran straight toward Hwang Cheol-un, who stood in front now because everyone else had already backed away.
The ex-class axe, which grew fat on the blood of swindlers, tyrants, and all manner of shameless bastards, split Hwang Cheol-un’s head open before he could even open his mouth.
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In Cha Un-hong’s case, she didn’t need to fight a duel like Taesu.
She could mobilize far more manpower than Taesu. The same was true of the gang led by Im Bong-ik that Taesu had killed, but the Kaesong merchant brokers were, by nature, a nationwide syndicate.
As soon as Park Mun-hong’s gang arrived at Byeokrando, they were startled by the rough, foreign-looking men seizing their wrists.
Then they were sent back into the river.
This time, however, without their boat or their copper coins.
In any case, Park Mun-hong had been caught, and that meant he was doomed. Unlike the authorities, at least they had not beaten him into a rag with clubs, so it could be called merciful.
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I read Cha Un-hong’s letter.
If things have settled down on your end, come back to Kaesong sometime. There’s something I’d like to discuss with you.
Right. To be exact, it was the Mountain Spirit who read it to me. So I couldn’t stop him when he added this afterward.
[Surely you won’t just be discussing matters and coming back, will you? Perhaps you’ll share a little cloud and rain as well…]
“She’s talking about next year’s French trade, you idiot. What’s with the cloud and rain?”
I swear this Mountain Spirit must have ascended to heaven as a virgin because he never had a single romance in his life. That’s why he’s obsessed with that sort of thing.
The one who cut off my thoughts was Kim Yang-won, who was standing nearby.
“Cloud and rain! Indeed, with the smoke rising from this ironworks here and the sea mist mingling together, the clouds do seem to billow and the rain to fall so gently!”
He seemed to have heard only the end of my muttered words and spun them into poetry.
I couldn’t tell him to get lost, because I’d already done that several times.
Kim Yang-won, who looked like he had no intention of going away, rambled on as he pleased.
“It is not because I bear any grudge against the guild head that I helped him, but only because I had once received a debt of kindness from this man and wished to repay my obligation. Yet since I have seen in the guild head the bearing of North Palace Yoo, how could I fail to follow?”
What kind of man was this North Palace Yoo? Sounded like a wuxia protagonist.
[An ancient righteous knight. A mad swordsman who knew no fear. If anyone, high or low, spoke ill of him, he would certainly kill them, so everyone from sovereigns of ten thousand chariots to the lowliest street tough feared him. Come to think of it, he’s rather like you.]
Even for a twenty-first-century scumbag, being compared like that by a man in such a miserable state was outrageous.
But arguing with a literate man of that sort sounded like a hassle.
I simply gazed at the smoke from the forge, which would rise for me soon enough.
Author’s Note
1. Kim Yang-won’s dates of birth and death are unknown, but because his friend Jo Hui-ryong mentioned him while writing Hosan Oegi around the time the story is set, he appears here as someone still alive. “Yang-won” is not his real name but his courtesy name.
His martial arts are fictional; in the records, he is mostly introduced as a lover and poet. That said, it is true that he enjoyed fighting.