The Road to Hanyang

On my way to Hanyang—this time for real—I stopped by Gyeongseong, the largest town in the vicinity. Traveling with a massive 15th-century entourage meant there was no way we could make a straight, uninterrupted dash to the capital. We had to take breaks along the way. Of course, on a personal level, I also wanted to pay my respects to Lord Kim Jong-seo, who had been my steadfast patron all this time...

"..."

"..."

"...Now that a sage has arisen in the East, I am deeply gratified that you may finally unfold your grand designs. My only hope is that this humble servant's past shortcomings have not caused any offense to the sage..."

"P-Please, do not do this, my Lord."

"..."

"If even you act this way, my Lord, I fear I will lose my mind."

"...Very well, Heon."

Kim Jong-seo wore a deeply uncomfortable expression, looking exactly like a modern corporate employee forced to call his boss by his first name to promote a 'horizontal organizational culture.' No, seriously, you are my elder and superior here! Regardless, we both hovered in awkward silence, unable to find the right words. Finally, Lord Kim Jong-seo broke the ice.

"W-Well, safe travels."

"I will return."

"..."

Ah, his expression softened a bit. Though his face seemed to say, 'Do you honestly think that's up to you to decide?' the heavy atmosphere finally lifted.

"Indeed. Go on, then."

"...Yes, my Lord."

Of course, that didn't make my heart any lighter. A persistent, ominous foreboding gnawed at me. It felt as though this brief conversation was merely a preview of the trials awaiting me. I had been close to Lord Kim for years, yet even a short, simple chat with him felt utterly suffocating. Just what kind of atmosphere was brewing in the capital? How on earth was 'I' being perceived in Hanyang...?

"A living sage!"

A man looked up at the ceiling, his hands trembling violently. His eyes lost focus as tears began to well up.

"I-I saw him with my own eyes...! He is a true sage!"

The man's name was Yi Yong, better known by his royal title, Grand Prince Anpyeong. At twenty-three years of age, he had finally encountered the defining experience of his life. And it had happened in that sacred, miraculous land: Aoji. Grand Prince Anpyeong had met An Heon.

His literary guests looked up in bewilderment at the prince, who had suddenly leaped to his feet in the middle of composing poetry. Even the musicians paused their playing.

It was then that Yi Gae, a scholar of the Hall of Worthies, spoke up.

"Your Highness, with all due respect, he is a mere eleven-year-old child..."

"I-I saw it too."

"...Gyeong-u, you too?" Yi Gae turned to Gang Hui-an, using his courtesy name.

"What are you saying, my friend? How could Master An be anything but a sage?" Gang Hui-an replied.

"Indeed," another guest chimed in. "Anyone who has read even a single volume of his Seonghakmanryu-jipyo cannot possibly deny it."

Yi Gae shuddered, feeling as though the entire world had fallen under some bizarre spell, leaving him as the sole sane man. Of course, the others merely looked at him as if he were the odd one out. And naturally so.

"Now, quiet down, everyone. Let us resume our reading for today. The third volume of the Compendium we brought this time is..."

For this very gathering was the birthplace of the Seonghakmanryu-jipyo's spread in Hanyang. The people gathered here were the very ones Grand Prince Anpyeong had commissioned to transcribe the manuscript when he first distributed it.

Anpyeong, who constantly craved the respect and admiration of the scholar-bureaucrats, could not bear to lose the glory of being the first scholar to bring the Compendium to Hanyang. Absolutely not.

And that was where the King's headache began. Even when ordered to stop, Anpyeong refused to listen. He was already half-mad with fervor, shouting to anyone who would listen, "I have seen a living sage!"

By the time the King began agonizing over how to rein in his son, it was already too late. Here, at Bihaedang, the residence of Grand Prince Anpyeong, the 'Suseong-dong Manuscript' of the Compendium—a text destined to shake Joseon to its core—was compiled and copied endlessly. The ripple it created quickly swelled into a massive tidal wave, sweeping over Hanyang.

But... how did this look from the perspective of the 'State'?

An uncontrollable, unpredictable new academic and ideological authority had suddenly dropped out of thin air. King Yi Do clutched his aching head, muttering to himself.

It is fine. If I just give Anpyeong a good thrashing and carefully steer this madness...

"I-I got it! I actually got it!"

"Got what?"

"I begged my family's servant who went up to Hamgil Province, and he finally brought back a copy of the Compendium!"

"Hand it over this instant!"

Just then, Kim Jong-seo's 'Hamgil Province Manuscript' of the Compendium delivered a second bombardment upon Hanyang.

"..."

It had officially entered the royal court as a formal state memorial. By this point, Yi Do had no choice but to realize what was about to unfold.

How did he usually prefer to conduct state affairs? Did he act as a traditional Neo-Confucian monarch, meticulously observing and weighing the public consensus of the scholars...?

Not in the slightest.

How had he handled An Heon's sudden emergence? He had investigated everything in absolute secrecy, made all the decisions behind closed doors, and then suddenly unveiled it to the world in a surprise maneuver that left no room for opposition.

Though it was still in development, the creation and promulgation of the Hunminjeongeum would follow the exact same pattern. Until the very moment of its announcement, most ministers would know nothing more than a vague suspicion: 'What on earth are the King and the Crown Prince up to...?'

To know before the storm hits, prepare the countermeasure, unleash it, and sweep everything away in one fell swoop—that was his methodology.

But not this time. Everything was unfolding in a manner completely opposite to Yi Do's preferred style.

The crisis had erupted publicly out of nowhere, he only found out after the fact, and before he could even formulate a response, the situation had spiraled entirely out of control. It was a disaster.

A few years ago, the 'Phonology Crisis' had merely shaken Joseon. This Compendium, however, was going to turn the entire kingdom upside down.

And every single one of Yi Do's apprehensions proved entirely correct.

Joseon had established Neo-Confucianism as its state ideology, yet it had not even imported the complete works of Zhu Xi. To such a kingdom, the sudden arrival of 'A Grand Exploration of Neo-Confucianism (and Yangmingism, etc.) with a Seven-Year-Old Sage: From Zhou Dunyi to Jeong Yak-yong' was simply too intoxicating to resist. It was inevitable.

Even now, if one traveled to the countryside, there were countless self-proclaimed scholars who had barely mastered the Thousand Character Classic. In some remote areas, mastering just the Elementary Learning was enough to be revered as a great intellectual. While Hanyang was different, books themselves remained incredibly scarce.

Books were a luxury. The state barely managed to import a few hundred volumes at a time, and compiling and printing a few thousand copies of a text was a monumental national undertaking.

In this era, the most common way of reading anywhere on Earth was not 'silent, solitary reading.' ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠It was far more common for people to gather and listen to someone reading aloud. Consequently, the production, distribution, and dissemination of knowledge occurred at an agonizingly slow, minuscule pace.

Naturally, in such an environment, the author's authority was paramount. Since no one would listen to the words of a nobody, apocryphal texts were frequently forged under the names of legendary figures like King Solomon or Guan Zhong to borrow their prestige.

So, what kind of person was the author of the Compendium?

A child who had observed the three-year mourning period at the age of five, mastered the Thousand Character Classic, the Four Books and Five Classics, and the Reflections on Things at Hand by six, and revolutionized phonology at seven...

The question of authority was thus instantly settled. Now, all that was left was for Joseon to be turned completely upside down from its very foundations.

"The first volume of the Seonghakmanryu-jipyo, penned by the Sage of the Northeast, is here! Gather round!"

"How on earth did you obtain that? In times like these!"

"My friend, do you not think we should host a scholarly gathering?"

Merely possessing this book was enough to host a salon and become the center of the intellectual zeitgeist. It was the fastest way to align oneself with the cutting edge of academic authority—far cheaper, faster, and safer than trying to pull strings in China or begging envoys to bring back a few precious volumes from their diplomatic missions.

Any scholar with half a brain spared no effort to get their hands on the Compendium.

"Master An states that while there are various theories regarding the distinction between Li and Qi..."

"Ah, so he adopts that particular school of thought. However, if we consider the distinction between the Four Beginnings and the Seven Emotions..."

"Excuse me, but... what on earth are you all talking about?"

"..."

"..."

"...W-Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Even if you couldn't obtain the Compendium itself, have you not at least read a summary of it?"

"Or do you simply have no one to discuss these matters with?"

"Uh...?"

Conversely, failing to grasp the contents of this book meant being instantly ostracized from polite society.

"Do you not even have a single friend to discuss this with?"

"..."

"Come now, what are you saying? Surely he has at least one or two acquaintances who would send him a brief summary. Our friend here simply hasn't had the chance to read it yet."

"..."

"Is that so? Haha... Where are you going?"

"...I just remembered an urgent matter at home."

In truth, it was virtually impossible not to know. Unless a scholar was completely devoid of friends or relatives in Hanyang, they were bound to receive at least a rough outline of the text. Consequently, the capital's closeted shut-ins and socially inept outcasts were ruthlessly exposed, weeping tears of blood.

And this, too, was hailed as the benevolent grace of the young sage of the East.

Even those who had initially harbored doubts had no choice but to kneel before the self-evident truth.

"H-Heavens... To think such a sage resides in Hanyang, writing such profound prose! This country scholar can only sigh in awe..."

"No. He resides in Aoji."

"Aoji? That is an unfamiliar name. What kind of place is it?"

"It lies far to the north, in Hamgil Province. It is over a thousand li from here."

"...A sage in such a remote place? Surely, it must be an elderly high official who composed this work while reflecting on his long life. Indeed, only such deep experience could produce such scholarship!"

"No, Master An is eleven years old."

"Pardon?"

"It is true."

"..."

"..."

The more they learned, the more those who marveled had no choice but to bow their heads in absolute reverence.

"A sage has truly been born in the East!"

"Indeed! He is a wise man sent by Heaven itself!"

"Even if one searches all the kingdoms of the world, there is none like him!"

Naturally, those who had gone to great lengths to acquire the Compendium extolled An Heon even more fervently—much like modern retail investors who buy into a theme stock and instantly transform into the political candidate's most zealous supporters.

And to these adoring masses, a piece of joyous news was delivered.

"Her Highness the Crown Princess Consort has recovered!"

"What!"

"Heaven has truly blessed us!"

"Could there be a greater celebration for our nation!"

And to that joyous news, a crucial footnote was appended.

"They say Master An saved her!"

Wait.

...How?

At this point, everyone felt as though they were losing their minds. Setting aside the wild rumors, the high officials rushed to the palace while the rest gathered at the government offices. Soon, the official word reached them.

"...It is true. Master An indeed saved her."

"May I ask how?"

"He gave a Hyoja-geun to his teacher, which was used to save Her Highness."

"..."

Uproar ensued. And then, a few weeks passed.

"M-Master An is arriving soon!"

An even greater frenzy erupted.

"Heh... I heard that young master possesses divine energy. If I take this stone home, surely my family will prosper—ack!"

"You son of a bitch! How dare you try to steal our village's treasure!"

"How is a random rock rolling next to chicken bones a treasure?!"

"Fuck, then why are you picking up the rock instead of the chicken bones next to it?!"

A bloody brawl erupted instantly. Soldiers rushed in, beating everyone indiscriminately. Once the crowd finally dispersed, the soldiers began eyeing each other before starting their own bloody fight over the very same rock. Then, another squad of soldiers rushed in to beat them indiscriminately. And then they fought again.

All over a boulder I had briefly sat on earlier.

Well.

I hadn't even entered Hanyang yet.

The nightmares of my seven-year-old self were slowly creeping back. The sheer ordeal of that time was so horrific I didn't even want to recall it. My teacher's servants had to swing clubs just to clear a path. Scholars had swarmed us like a horde of zombies. Of course, meeting the 'Seven-Year-Old Sage' promised immense prestige.

And now, that prestige had likely multiplied tenfold. I didn't even want to imagine the chaos that would unfold once I entered Hanyang. Please, let's just get through this without anyone getting their ribs broken...

"..."

Huh? Something was off. I had just passed through the city gates.

Last time, an overwhelming crowd had gathered before I even reached the city walls, turning the place into utter bedlam. The crowd was just as massive now. But it was completely silent.

My train of thought ground to a halt, unable to comprehend the reason. This was truly bizarre. Was it because the King had assigned a grand ceremonial escort to surround me? Racking my brain, I scanned the crowd and locked eyes with someone.

It was definitely that scholar who had insulted my teacher in the past and begged me for a piece of calligraphy. Right. I should offer him a polite nod...

"..."

"..."

What? Why are you doing that? Why is a man who has lived five times longer than me suddenly bowing his waist so low?

In my panic, I looked around. Everywhere my gaze landed, the gathered scholars hurriedly bowed their heads. These were the very same people who, just four years ago, had practically rioted just to touch my hand. Back then, they were merely excited to see a child prodigy. Now that I had published such a philosophical work, shouldn't they be treating me like a living sage...?

Oh. Oh, wait...

They ARE treating me like a living sage!

"..."

"..."

"..."

Once the realization dawned on me, I could finally read the intent and emotion behind the hundreds of eyes locked onto me. A sage has arisen in the East, so rather than daring to draw near, we must revere and look up to him from afar...

I was going to die of embarrassment.

And so began a public humiliation show far more suffocating than the breathless chase of my childhood. Aside from the quiet whispers rippling through the crowd, a heavy hush hung over the street. They just stared at me. Like a scene from a horror movie.

Whenever some ignorant commoner dared to blurt out, "Hey, is that the miraculous child prodigy from back then?" they were instantly silenced by a barrage of fierce scholar-glares and scholar-scoldings.

On this now-peaceful avenue, there remained only true scholars who deeply revered and honored the Sage, An Heon...

"..."

"..."

Ah. Of all times, right before reaching the palace, I ran into someone incredibly awkward to greet.

A clan elder. Princess Jeongui's husband, An Maeng-dam.

The moment I prepared to offer my greetings, An Maeng-dam's head touched the dirt.

While my brain short-circuited, An Maeng-dam spoke first.

"I-I have heard the news that our esteemed kinsman has once again brought immense glory to our clan with a literary reputation that shall endure for a thousand generations."

"Well..."

"I-I am deeply apologetic. I wished to seek an audience to apologize for my past insolence, but with the Crown Princess Consort's confinement coinciding..."

"S-Stop!"

The surrounding area fell dead silent, as if a bomb had just gone off. An Maeng-dam looked up at me with wide, incredibly cautious eyes.

"Please, stop this."

"Pardon?"

"To elevate a boy who has not even celebrated his coming-of-age ceremony to such heights leaves me utterly mortified. Where in the world is there such a custom?"

I had finally snapped and blurted it out because I was truly going out of my mind. At my outburst, An Maeng-dam, who had been trembling prostrate on the ground, hurriedly raised his head...

"A-Ah, I understand. Forgive me."

"...Please, never do that again."

"...I won't."

The moment he caught my glare, he scrambled to his feet. Though his hands remained politely clasped in front of him, I decided not to dwell on it further.

Only then did the atmosphere return to some semblance of normalcy. I felt like I was going to die of exhaustion. Could I finally get some rest now?

"Master, it is time to enter the palace."

Ah, apparently not. This was only the beginning.

I closed my eyes for what felt like a brief moment, exhausted to my bones. When I opened them, hours had flown by.

"...To meet the savior who rescued my daughter-in-law from the brink of death—this is a personal family matter before it is an affair of state."

It felt as though many things had transpired in the interim, but my mind was a complete blank. At any rate, the night was late, and only court ladies and eunuchs occasionally flickered past the corridors outside.

Inside the chamber, there were three people.

Me.

"On such a joyous occasion, how could we allow any outsiders to disturb us?"

The King. Yi Do, King Sejong.

"Your servant agrees, Royal Father. Your words are entirely just."

The Crown Prince, the future King Munjong.

I was having a private audience with the two most powerful men in this kingdom.

Yi Do... recalled the sheer chaos the boy before him had unleashed.

He had disseminated hundreds of unprecedented scholarly theories simultaneously. Furthermore, he had moved his own teacher to save the Crown Princess Consort. Not a single one of his actions had been ordinary, but this time, the word 'extraordinary' was far from sufficient to describe it.

The most rational conclusion was simply that the being standing before him was a living sage. That realization alone made the gravity of the current situation clear. Everything was in disarray.

In a state governed by Neo-Confucianism, the interpretation of the classics and the authority vested in those interpretations dictated the very direction of national policy.

Suppose someone interpreted a passage left by Zhu Xi in a specific manner and used it as justification to overhaul the tax laws. But what if someone else opposed it with a completely different interpretation? What if that alternative interpretation possessed a higher degree of validity?

If so, the grand affairs of state justified by the previous interpretation could grind to a halt, as verifying the validity ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠of the new theory would become an absolute necessity.

This was precisely why the King had to be the preeminent scholar of the realm—so that no one could ever challenge the validity of his rule.

But that was no longer the ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠case. He had lost that supreme position.

The boy standing before him had usurped it.

The King stroked his beard, gazing down at the youth.

...A sage who had even brought the Crown Princess Consort back to life. Using that as a perfect pretext, he had managed to summon him to this very chamber.

The King raised a finger, pointing toward a low writing desk pushed to one side. Atop it lay a neat stack of books.

Seeing them, An Heon spoke.

"Your servant is deeply gratified that Your Majesty has deigned to personally peruse my humble scribblings."

Humble scribblings. Ha. When modesty was stretched to such absurd lengths, it only provoked a dry chuckle. Indeed, they were all An Heon's writings: the Seonghakmanryu-jipyo.

This meeting would have to be the place where they managed the fallout caused by those very texts. It had to be.

He needed to understand exactly what thoughts and purposes had driven the genius who penned those words. Only then could he find a way to resolve this crisis and determine how he, Yi Do, might reclaim his academic authority.

Therefore, this audience had to be kept in absolute secrecy. It was far too critical an affair.

Every word uttered in this room had to be guarded with the utmost confidentiality.

The King, thinking thus, glanced to the side—at the royal historian, whose brush was already flying across the paper.

He had not dismissed him. It was not for a lack of power. He simply could not bring himself to do it.

If the record of this day's conversation survived, it would be remembered as a historic dialogue between a monarch and a living sage. It would be etched into history for hundreds, thousands of years to come.

Just as the dialogue between King Gaozong of Shang and the sage Yue in the Book of Documents was still on everyone's lips after two millennia.

To let that... to let such an opportunity slip away?

Yi Do's eyes burned with a fierce light. His hands trembled slightly. His lips twitched with anticipation.

He looked like a tiger eyeing its prey.

Sensing his father's intensity, the Crown Prince shot him a warning look. Yi Do barely managed to compose himself, nodding back to his son.

Do not worry. The plan remains unchanged.

First, they would open the discussion by addressing what to do with the Compendium. How to compile the manuscripts, how to publish them, and which interpretations to establish as the orthodox doctrine.

From there, they would tackle the unavoidable question: how to sculpt and utilize the monumental image of the 'Sage An Heon' in consultation with the boy himself.

Finally, they would hold practical discussions on what government post to bestow upon An Heon, the trajectory of his career, and how quickly he should be elevated to the rank of State Councillor.

That was the plan. To that end, he and the Crown Prince had even rehearsed their opening line.

They would begin by pointing out the confusion caused by the minor discrepancies among the various manuscripts of the Compendium.

Yi Do opened his mouth.

"I have many questions regarding the Compendium."

The Crown Prince flinched, turning to look at his father as inconspicuously as possible. His eyes screamed, 'Why are you deviating from the plan?'

But Yi Do could not help himself. He was, at his core, a scholar. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠And now, he was finally facing a 'living sage.'

There was no Heo Jo or any other troublesome ministers here to obstruct him. No one could stand between the King and the boy.

To sit idly in front of An Heon without engaging him would be a betrayal of his identity as a Confucian scholar. Yi Do licked his lips.

This time, nothing in the world would stand in his way.

The Crown Prince shook his head, thinking, 'This was definitely not the plan.' And for some reason, the boy seemed to shudder. Of course, it was surely just his imagination.