The Touch of the Great General
Just as An Heon had suspected, Jang Yeong-sil was not a scientist or an inventor in the modern sense. Five years ago, the King had elevated him to the rank of Hogun to honor his achievements. At the time, the King had spoken of the water clock Jang Yeong-sil had crafted. He said:
"Though he did it under my instruction, had it not been for this man, we would never have succeeded in making it."
The King had then added that the water clock crafted by Jang Yeong-sil would surpass even the automatic water clocks of the Yuan Dynasty in the "exquisite precision of its craftsmanship." This was the very moment when Heo Jo had vehemently opposed the appointment, arguing, "Do not bestow such a rank upon the son of a courtesan."
In other words, even at the moment of Jang Yeong-sil's highest praise, the King himself had defined his role: a man who took royal designs and carved out exquisite craftsmanship. Jang Yeong-sil was a master of execution. Even the Annals of the Joseon Dynasty described his character as "exquisite." He was, in essence, a technician supreme in finishing details, a project manager who could direct a construction site with absolute efficiency. In those fields, he was peerless in the kingdom. On that talent alone, he had risen from a low-born slave to the Senior Third Rank. And now, such a man had arrived in Aoji.
Jang Yeong-sil first inspected the loom An Heon had built. He nodded. It was an impressive piece of work, but it was ultimately a crude modification of an existing loom. This was only natural, given that it had been built by local carpenters working under terrible conditions, desperately trying to replicate a poorly copied design from An Heon. Jang Yeong-sil tapped a few joints, and the loom wobbled precariously. Just as An Heon began to worry that the machine might collapse, Jang Yeong-sil spoke.
"Bring me the carpenters who built this."
"...Excuse me?"
"I shall rebuild it for you. From scratch."
A fire ignited in Jang Yeong-sil's eyes. Having rapidly absorbed the principles, structure, and core concepts explained by An Heon, he began drafting a new blueprint. He ruthlessly eliminated every structural weakness, loose joint, modification error, and redundant part in the spinning wheel and loom. Stripping the design down to its bare essentials, he rebuilt the frame from the ground up in the most efficient manner possible. Watching this, An Heon was struck with sheer disbelief. What in the world? Why is his design convergently evolving with the blueprints Spirit Hong-wi sent me?
That was not all. Simultaneously, Jang Yeong-sil completed the blueprints to be submitted to the royal court. Using An Heon's crude sketches as a base, he meticulously detailed the shape of each component, the assembly process, and the instructions for use. Thus, the modification and documentation were completed in one fell swoop. After repeating the process a few times, five or six identical spinning wheels and looms stood before them.
"There, it is done. Take a look."
"Ah... Oh... Whoa..."
Heon didn't even need to switch on his polite, protocol-driven AI persona. The genuine awe in his voice sent Jang Yeong-sil's shoulders soaring with pride. The boy's praise was clearly no empty flattery; it was absolute, heartfelt sincerity. A gasp like that could not be faked. As Heon ran his hands over the loom with wide, speechless eyes, Jang Yeong-sil's pride reached the heavens. When Heon finally turned back to him, Jang Yeong-sil asked, feigning nonchalance:
"How is it? I finished it quickly, so it is rather simple."
He did not forget to add a touch of bravado, implying, This is not even a tenth of my true ability. To this, Heon replied, "This... was done in a hurry?"
"Indeed."
Amazingly, Heon believed the bluff. After all, he himself had cried for days even while looking at the answer key.
"Your Excellency's talent is truly a gift from the heavens."
"It is nothing. I have merely received undeserved grace from His Majesty."
"Even after hundreds of years, your name will shine with glory."
"What nonsense..."
"..."
Jang Yeong-sil started to dismiss it as wild exaggeration, but the words died in his throat when he looked into the boy's eyes. ...At that moment, Jang Yeong-sil's self-esteem reached an all-time high.
But just as Jang Yeong-sil was dazed by this rush of pride, Heon quickly made his move. "Please, do not stand out here in the cold. Come inside."
"No, I have done nothing so grand as to warrant such a fuss..."
"Please, enter."
Creak. Heon hurriedly threw open the door himself and ushered him in. Jang Yeong-sil stepped proudly into the nobleman's house. Naturally, Heon seated him in the place of honor. In the northern regions, the spot directly over the underfloor heating was the seat of honor. Heon even gave him the best cushion in the house. He then called a servant to bring out a simple table of drinks and snacks. Though everything was humble and rustic, fitting the harsh reality of the northern frontier, and the food was coarse, none of that mattered.
He was receiving sincere hospitality from a nobleman. He was receiving genuine reverence from a nobleman. For the first time in his life. And this was no ordinary eight-year-old making a fuss. State Councillors and Ministers were desperate to meet this child. Even that bastard Heo Jo was no exception. Yet, this brilliant boy was looking only at him. To the deeply moved Jang Yeong-sil, Heon spoke:
"I am deeply apologetic that the hospitality we offer such an esteemed guest is so lacking."
"What do you mean? I can feel your sincerity quite clearly."
"No, it is shameful. At the very least, we should have heated your room properly, but we have been so negligent."
Jang Yeong-sil chuckled at that. Haha, heat the room? In the middle of June? Outside is...Whoosh. ...Well, it was rather chilly. No wonder his back had been aching every night.
"Firewood must be scarce in this northern frontier."
"Indeed it is. The people spend half the day gathering twigs and the other half chasing away wild beasts."
It did not sound like an exaggeration at all. While climbing a nearby mountain with the carpenters to gather timber, Jang Yeong-sil had spotted a tiger. Just yesterday. In fact, that was his third sighting. He hadn't even bothered to count the wolves and bears. As he shivered involuntarily, Heon let out a sigh.
"Since they cannot gather firewood in peace, the people are often left to shiver in the cold."
"Ah, how tragic."
"Some time ago, I gathered some people to dig up the black soil nearby and try using it, but the smell was so foul it was unusable."
"Black soil, you say..."
"Yes. It is scattered everywhere in these parts, but when dried and burned, it produces terrible soot and toxic smoke."
Sigh. The boy let out a long breath.
"Since we lack firewood, it would be ideal to build larger houses where many families could live together to share warmth. However, we lack the large, straight timber required for such structures."
Jang Yeong-sil nodded. As a man of 15th-century Joseon, he needed no further explanation. In wooden architecture, a larger house meant a larger roof, which in turn required massive rafters and main beams. Such beams had to be made from exceptionally large, straight logs—trees that became increasingly rare the larger they grew. The alternative was to assemble smaller pieces of wood, but Joseon builders packed the roof with clay for insulation. If done poorly, the sheer weight of the clay would cause the structure to collapse. Furrowing his brow in deep thought, Jang Yeong-sil spoke.
"Then, why not use bricks?"
"Bricks?"
"Indeed. Is the Tumen River not right before us? When I looked the other day, the riverbank seemed to have plenty of clay suitable for the task."
A debate had naturally begun, but it did not feel strange. Over the past few days, they had spent many nights talking like this.
"We can take that clay and bake bricks. Did you and I not discuss a high-heat furnace just the day before yesterday?"
"Pardon? Using bricks... to build large houses..."
"Yes! If we do this, the lives of the people in this northeastern territory will surely improve!"
Designing and building were Jang Yeong-sil's specialties. Astronomical instruments, water clocks, and various palace halls had all been crafted by his hands. Already, blueprints were taking shape in his mind.
"And that is not all! We can also use bricks to construct military garrisons!"
Large brick houses would shelter the commoners, and the flimsy wooden palisades of the garrisons would be replaced by sturdy brick walls. One might think only the former benefited the people, but that was not true. After all, who were the soldiers conscripted to build and guard those garrisons? They were the sons and fathers of these very commoners. For a brief moment, hope flared on Heon's youthful face. But just as quickly as it had appeared, it faded into a look of dejection.
"But how shall we bake the bricks when the people do not even have enough firewood for themselves?"
The boy's objection was highly practical. "To bake and dry bricks in this cold, damp land would require an immense amount of fuel. If we could obtain that much firewood, it would be far better to use it to heat the people's homes."
Brilliant indeed. But this time, Jang Yeong-sil could not help but flash a triumphant smile.
"Why do you assume we have no fuel?"
"Pardon?"
"Did you not just say that the black soil scattered everywhere is unfit for human use?"
At those words, the brilliant boy froze as if struck by lightning. He had instantly grasped Jang Yeong-sil's meaning. "Then, we simply must not use it for humans."
They could use it to bake and dry bricks instead. The boy's body stiffened. Then, trembling slightly... he suddenly grabbed both of Jang Yeong-sil's hands.
Startled, Jang Yeong-sil instinctively tried to pull away, but stopped when he felt the strength in the boy's grip. It was not because he couldn't overpower an eight-year-old, but because of the expression on Heon's face. "Your... Your Excellency the Great General... is truly a savior sent by the heavens."
Tears welled up in the boy's eyes. "Once you depart, I shall immediately carry out your plan. First, I will speak to the Army Commander..."
"No," Great General Jang Yeong-sil said, squeezing the boy's hands in return. "I have already agreed to help you build the watermill."
"But..."
"I must help you with the bricks before I leave as well."
"Is... Is that true?"
Joy flooded the boy's tear-filled, sparkling eyes. "But Your Excellency is charged with the grand construction projects of the state. How can you waste your precious time on a child in this remote wilderness..."
"Thanks to your assistance, my work was completed far ahead of schedule. Who could possibly blame me? It is all thanks to you." Jang Yeong-sil nodded with quiet dignity and patted the boy's back. "So, do not worry. This, too, is for the sake of the state and its people."
"Your Excellency...!"
And so, the first week of the Five-Week Aoji Development Plan passed. Soon, the entire vicinity of Aoji was filled with a bustling clamor.
"The measurements of this waterwheel are off. Cut it by about an inch."
"H-Here...?"
"No, right about here."
"Pardon?"
"I said, right here."
When the carpenter did as Jang Yeong-sil commanded, the pieces that had been misaligned just moments ago slid together with a satisfying *thud*. Everyone, myself included, watched with dropped jaws as the waterwheel began to spin at high speed. The connected millstone whirred to life. The waiting farmers hurriedly poured in their wheat... and it ground beautifully. *Wow. It actually works.*
On top of that, they were even baking bricks nearby. When he first suggested, "Hmm, since the watermill is powered by the river and the clay is dug from the riverbank, why not do both at once?" I thought he had lost his mind. But he actually pulled it off. The labor force consisted entirely of local carpenters and villagers acting as hands. Since our village was exempt from various taxes and corvée labor, we had plenty of time. With that meager labor force and pathetic resources, he had already built a waterwheel and taught everyone how to bake bricks. Even though I had given him some hints based on a documentary I once watched—Extreme Jobs: Bangladeshi Brickmakers—I never expected him to achieve this much.
"Now, do you all understand? From now on, whether you are grinding wheat or beans, building a waterwheel like this will save you immense labor."
"B-But what if it breaks..."
"I have written down all the repair methods and given them to young Master An here."
"..."
As expected, he had already documented the waterwheel design and the brick-baking process. And just as he said, even the repair instructions were fully detailed. Right. Jang Yeong-sil might not be a scientist in the way future generations think. He might not even be a pure inventor. ...But honestly, this is even more insane. I shook my head in awe, marveling at this masterclass in labor and time management. I didn't even need to use my polite AI persona anymore. Just watching him work filled me with genuine admiration.
"You mentioned you sent word to the Army Commander in Gyeongseong a few days ago, correct?"
Jang Yeong-sil's voice snapped me out of my thoughts. I nodded respectfully to the man who had achieved this miracle. "Yes, that is correct."
"For the news to reach Gyeongseong and a response to return... let's see. A reply should be arriving right about now."
And just as he finished speaking, the sound of galloping hooves echoed in the distance like clockwork. For a second, I wondered if he was some kind of psychic monster. I glanced at him and saw him flinch slightly before quickly resuming his dignified posture. Well, he was still a monster in my book. We watched the riders galloping from the direction of the village and straightened our postures... before quickly bowing in greeting.
"I heard something extraordinary had occurred."
"I did not expect you to come in person, my Lord."
"It was certainly worth the trip."
As Kim Jong-seo hurriedly dismounted, I stole a glance at Jang Yeong-sil. "I pay my respects to the Army Commander."
...His posture was perfectly composed, his politeness flawless. It was a swift, sharp transition, leaving no trace of the man whose shoulders had been practically touching the sky with pride just moments ago. I suppose one must possess this level of adaptability to overcome low-born origins and rise so high in court. Once again, I was deeply impressed.
"Great General, is that the waterwheel?"
"It is, my Lord."
"And those are the baked bricks you spoke of?"
"That is also correct."
Kim Jong-seo's eyes went as wide as mine had been, and his lips mumbled silently. He was clearly running the numbers, calculating the immense strategic and economic benefits of sourcing bricks locally to fortify the garrisons. Afterward, we returned to the village and showed him the spinning wheels and looms Jang Yeong-sil had upgraded.
"..."
"..."
Even the notoriously stern Kim Jong-seo was left utterly speechless.
The civil ministers of Joseon were fundamentally different from 21st-century bureaucrats. The Ministry of Taxation did not recruit officials by testing them on economics or public finance. The Ministry of Personnel did not seek out experts in human resource management. In Joseon, officials frequently rotated between completely different ministries. Chief State Councillor Hwang Hui himself had served in all Six Ministries. Yet, this caused no major issues because they were not the ones handling the day-to-day technical labor. The frontline work was left to lower-ranking technical officials. If that seems strange, consider why Steve Jobs recruited John Sculley—a man who had been "selling sugar water" at Pepsi—to Apple. These ministers were not mere bureaucrats; they were executives and politicians. Their transfers were akin to modern members of parliament changing their committee assignments.
Yet, even among them, there were those known for specific expertise.
"Soon, the Gongbeop (Tribute Tax Law) will be implemented in Jeolla and Gyeongsang Provinces. The Minister of Taxation must take the lion's share of the credit."
"Haha, please, do not flatter me so, Councillor Heo."
The one replying to Left State Councillor Heo Jo was An Sun, the Minister of Taxation. He had been serving in this position for twelve grueling years.
"It is all thanks to His Majesty's brilliant virtue and wisdom, as well as the tireless efforts of many talented ministers."
Even as he spoke, An Sun's chest swelled with pride. The Gongbeop—a new tax system named after the ancient taxation laws of the Xia Dynasty. How should the state levy taxes on the nation's arable land? An Sun recalled the fierce debates that had raged over this question. The very man standing before him, Heo Jo, had opposed it with spit flying from his mouth. An Sun had spent years persuading the opposition, refining the logic, and polishing the details. Now, the fruits of those grueling years of labor were finally about to be realized. With these thoughts in mind, An Sun entered the royal court alongside Heo Jo.
"The Great General Yeong-sil reports in his memorial that the devices are indeed miraculous, without a single flaw, and the rumors do not do them justice..."
"..."
"..."
"..."
...And then, the tempestuous news from the northern frontier struck them. An Sun practically screamed as he left the palace. In contrast, the King's eyes sparkled with brilliant light. It was a golden opportunity to fill the state coffers and tighten his grip on the provinces. Of course, An Sun and the other ministers could only scream at the sheer mountain of new work heading their way.
Naturally, as seasoned politicians, they weighed the pros and cons to take their stances. But political maneuvering and debates were exhausting work in themselves. Today, as always, there was no rest in the court of King Yi Do. Those spinning wheels and looms were nothing short of a revolution. A task that once required three or four people could now be done by one, and what used to take ten days was finished in half a day. Furthermore, they now had the flax growing in the north, which Kim Jong-seo was already distributing with Aoji as the hub. The raw materials were increasing, and production had become effortless. Even without modern economics, anyone in the 15th century could see where this was heading. It was a mathematical certainty that cloth would eventually become abundant. Unless there was some highly guarded, complex secret to An Heon's design—which there wasn't—the commoners would eventually replicate it.
However, there was a catch.
"The spinning wheel and loom presented by An Heon are truly wondrous devices."
"Indeed. Weaving is the very foundation of our nation. If the women can weave cloth with ease, it will be far easier to encourage the practice."
The catch was that this "eventually" was still a long way off. Raw materials would not double or triple overnight. The available resources were strictly limited. Therefore, even if commoners used the new looms, it would merely make their weaving "a bit easier." Without state intervention, these devices would spread at a snail's pace, much like many other technologies Joseon tried to promote. In other words, for the time being, the royal court held an absolute monopoly on this revolutionary technology. So, what could they do with it?
In truth, cotton cloth was not yet part of Joseon's official land tax. It was paid in relation to military service, but even that was not officially a state tax. When a young man from a household went off to perform military service, leaving his family struggling to survive, other households grouped with them would provide cotton cloth to support them. In a less official capacity, one could slip some cloth to a local official, who would then use it to hire someone else to take their place in the military. Though technically illegal, everyone turned a blind eye. Other than that, the state occasionally demanded cotton cloth as tribute when collecting local specialties. In short, cotton cloth played no part in the regular, officially institutionalized taxation system.
So... how could the state make use of machines that could churn out cloth easily, rapidly, and in massive quantities? They had to turn the unofficial into the official. But this was not an easy topic to bring up. Whoever spoke of it first would have to take responsibility for its implementation. Just as the officials of the Ministry of Taxation kept their mouths shut, trying to convey their thoughts to the King through indirect channels, the King spoke.
"In the private sector, people give cotton cloth to have others take their place in military service. What do you ministers think of this?"
The King brought it up first.
"Because of this practice, the wealthy evade military service, which has caused great harm to the state," Heo Jo replied.
"And yet, we must examine the matter closely," Yi Do answered without a moment's hesitation. In truth, Yi Do already had a plan. "I intend to allow those who find it difficult to perform military service to pay their dues in cotton cloth instead. I wish to hear your thoughts on this."
Thus, the state would openly accept cloth.
"If I may speak, Councillor Heo is correct. There is a reason the state laws restrict the arbitrary authority of local magistrates. The burden on the weaving commoners will..."
"Then, we shall collect raw cotton instead. We will place An Heon's spinning wheels and looms in each local government office and have them weave the raw cotton collected from the people into cloth."
"..."
"In return, it would only be fair to collect a slightly larger amount from those who pay in raw cotton rather than finished cloth."
No, to be more precise, if they collected raw cotton, the government offices would weave it into cloth on their behalf. This would naturally cause the state's tax revenue to skyrocket. More importantly, by weaving the cloth themselves and pocketing the profit margin, a lucrative new source of patronage would be created—one that the King could distribute as he saw fit. Realizing the King's true intentions, Heo Jo hurriedly signaled Chief State Councillor Hwang Hui and the other senior ministers to join him in opposition.
"It is indeed a brilliant strategy," Hwang Hui began.
"Does the Chief State Councillor truly think so?"
"However, your servant is merely old and foolish, and I only fear the moment we make a misstep."
As Chief State Councillor Hwang Hui stepped forward, the other ministers immediately rushed to provide support. "If everyone pays in raw cotton or cloth, and no one is left to serve as active soldiers, who will guard our borders?"
If they were not careful, the military strength would dwindle, leaving the state with nothing. Moreover, it would create yet another avenue for corrupt officials to line their pockets, making matters even worse. As these troubling scenarios flashed through the minds of the ministers, the King spoke.
"Do not worry. Since I am managing this grand undertaking alongside you, we shall not fail."
"..."
"..."
We won't fail. I'm the one steering this ship. So shut up and follow my lead.
...Everyone was rendered speechless, and in the end, the King pushed his agenda through. Upon his return to Hanyang, Jang Yeong-sil also focused entirely on replicating the spinning wheels and looms under royal command. After all, they were the core of this drastically changing tax system. The Gunjeoksupoje (Military Cloth Tax System), which historically would not be officially established until the reign of King Jungjong, was now being debated a century ahead of schedule, throwing the royal court into another frenzy. Of course, this was still the 15th century. Implementing a massive systemic reform took ages, and distributing the reformed system across the provinces took even longer. It would take several years for Yi Do's grand vision to fully materialize. A nation ruling over millions moved with heavy, deliberate steps.
"Young Master! Over here! A new house is going up!"
"Ohhh!"
Meanwhile, Aoji, with its population of just a few dozen, moved at a lightning pace. And just like that, several years passed.