Chapter 146
Chapter 146
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 146
Chapter Title: Great Hero Kim Chunsik (2)
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It took some time before I could even speak with Master Eun.
The market crowds swarmed in, cheering and trying to grab my hands, while a few tossed paper flowers—probably vendor wares—in praise of justice served.
To understand Chinese moral concepts, you have to grasp this notion of the "侠" (hero).
With officials unable to control vast populations and territories, civilian vigilantes stepped in to punish evil with violence—a concept that evolved from the Warring States period. That's the root of "wuxia."
These "xia" knights who embody wuxia are deeply respected in China; even murderers among them can't be casually punished by local authorities.
For maximum impact, you slaughter the wicked as cruelly as possible, in broad daylight amid crowds—like in a bustling marketplace. Heroes like Jin Wuyang of Yan or Xu Shu from the Three Kingdoms earned fame through street-side swordplay.
So, you see, I didn't recklessly reveal my true self abroad without thought.
Park Jiwon, puffed up with pride over what I'd done, strutted around boasting to everyone.
"If a mere underling like me stepped up and it ended like this, imagine if our big brother unleashed the East Sea supreme art, the Dog-Beating Stick Technique! Those Arahan scum wouldn't have kept their heads today!"
Claiming to be the first witness of the Dog-Beating Stick Technique, Jangbok chimed in with similar bluster, unwilling to be outdone.
A few who understood Joseon speech murmured in admiration. Before weird rumors could spread through the Central Plains martial world, I smacked Jangbok on the back of the head and followed Master Eun inside.
The place Master Eun led me to was a rare two-story wooden pavilion in Joseon terms.
Spotting the stage, it seemed to double as a performance hall and tavern normally, but with not a soul in sight now, it spoke volumes of Master Eun's influence.
I steeled my expression, bracing for the political talk ahead. Master Eun, seemingly eager to downplay the real purpose here, asked casually,
"It's mealtime, isn't it? Care for something to eat?"
Playing the great hero, I ordered roast duck, thin noodles, and Shaoxing wine—then realized my blunder.
Master Eun chuckled. It was like the face a Japanese friend might make asking for seasoned fried chicken and Andong soju in Korea. Exactly what I'd just done.
"Young Master Kim of Goryeo jests well. Is that Joseon's luxury? Regrettably, we lack southern fine liquors, and with the Emperor gathering millions of catties of dried noodles from across the realm to conquer the western barbarians, thin noodles are scarce too. But I'll have some tasty dishes brought out."
To avoid further embarrassment, I meekly ate Qing commoner fare: stir-fried pork and scrambled eggs. The booze was unknown but delicious. Might as well eat up now, since I couldn't use my abilities here anyway.
Still, I noted that they'd stockpiled over a thousand tons of army "provisions" in dried noodles alone—clear sign the Dzungar extermination war loomed.
But contrary to my tension, Master Eun directed her first question not at me, but Park Jiwon.
"You there, young scholar—you're the one selling paintings at Fajingsi, right? I've heard the rough gist of your looks."
I whipped around to Park Jiwon. Hey, what did you do? You said you just watched quietly!
When I asked, Park Jiwon flinched and made excuses.
"It wasn't me—it was Master Gyeomjae."
Jeong Seon? Selling paintings? Landscapes, right? Please say true-view mountain-water paintings.
Unable to stall longer, I affirmed it tentatively. Master Eun said,
"Probably baseless gossip, but some vagrant is spreading word that Joseon plans to strike Shengjing. 'When the crow flies, the persimmon falls'—a Joseon man climbing Fajingsi pagoda for the view is fine, but that painting of the capital's walls and streets is under suspicion."
"Ah, so he painted city scenery? That's a relief."
"Pardon?"
"No, my Chinese is clumsy. That's concerning indeed. But he's just a mere painter, and we never intended anything like... "
"I know. A spy wouldn't hawk his paintings shouting to crowds."
I glared at Park Jiwon again. This punk moonlighted as someone's exclusive artist, raking in cash without a word to me? No wonder he's been spending freely lately.
Park Jiwon, the picture of guilt, quickly steered to end the talk.
"We're all idle travelers without duties. Why bring up court matters—what's your angle?"
I thought it a solid line and translated. But Master Eun shook her head.
"You know better. You've already done things to arouse suspicion. Before the Guard Commander steps in, I wanted a word. If it's a misunderstanding, those above will overlook it."
I regained my composure.
Hmm. Alright.
I'd anticipated Jo Dongha's loose lips (since I fed them), but hadn't expected Park Jiwon's blunder to blow it up like this.
That they weren't hauling us in meant mid-level officials wanted no more trouble.
What they craved was fodder for a report: "These rumors of such-and-such are circulating, but after probing Joseon folk from all angles, they're utter nonsense."
I decided to give it to them.
"Those are all false rumors spread by rebels using beggars and thugs. Our Great King, advanced in age, sometimes mutters confused words, but never means them. How could puny Joseon dare flout tributary rites to the Great State? Don't you know the devotion our King Jangmok showed last Jeongchuk year?"
To build trust, my words had to align somewhat with Jo Dongha's, so I didn't deny King Yeongjo had voiced such notions.
It's the truth, after all. Can't just lie outright.
I merely emphasized Jo Dongha as a rebel puppet. He'd probably be executed for rumor-mongering in days. 'Chinese,' so no blowback on Joseon. Farewell.
"If doubtful, send word to the Eight Banners. No changes in Joseon's garrisons in Pyeongan or Hamgyong. I saw clearly on the way here. Their weapons rust, they're busy extorting dirt—er, same as ever."
They'd likely investigated already, concluding it rumor. Hence questioning us civilly instead of beating us.
"So please ensure no strange words spread. It's a great favor, truly—though laws punish irreverent writs, the Emperor's boundless mercy overlooks ignorant folk's chatter. Our Great King was heroic once, but even sages falter with age."
"True enough."
Off-record, and I'm the only Chinese-speaker, so I could say it. Having painted Yeongjo as a doddering dementia case, I now hyped the Crown Prince.
"Fortunately, our young Crown Prince—who will soon succeed—admires and cherishes the Great State unwaveringly. He specially urged me to bring many Chinese books this trip."
I showed a list of worthless Qing practical learning books (requested by Ahn Jeongbok and Yi Ik, actually).
The Crown Prince ordering Chinese books was soul-sworn truth. No Han classics here—just Qing "achievements" like Western works—to boost goodwill.
"Upon ascending, he'll serve the Emperor with utmost sincerity. He's even earned his royal father's ire for it. Ah—forget I said that."
"No. It won't leak—speak freely."
Wearing profound regret, I spilled our royal father-son tensions.
Master Eun radiated disbelief.
"Even beasts shield their young with their lives—where's a father like that?"
Tell me about it.
Anyway, no lies from me. She could think, "No sane dad would; must be anti-Qing king vs. pro-Qing prince politics." Her call.
Of course, smart as she was, Master Eun wouldn't say, "Then tell the Emperor to swap kings." She nodded warmly.
"Sorry for the disturbance. As atonement, my kids will perform escapology—relax and enjoy."
Needs time to report up and get directives? Got it. I want confirmation too.
My sincerity—and Ma Je-eun snatched from Park's poke—worked; Master Eun's hospitality surged.
Beijing's famed magic show began, one every envoy saw. Park Jiwon, thinking we'd talked our way clear, and thoughtless Jangbok looked thrilled. Eoji too.
18th-century magic shows weren't much different from modern ones.
The magician took the stage and began stripping off his clothes one by one.
Park Jiwon whispered to me.
"They say male prostitution thrives in Qing—it's real. But maybe women appear later?"
"Is that all that's on your mind? Clearly, he's proving no concealment."
"Ah."
Indeed, the magician quipped, "Trying to show off in this winter chill—I'm freezing to death! Anyway, you've seen my innocence now, right?"
The audience—now packed, dispelling suspicion—roared with laughter. He redressed and proceeded.
Starting tame: birds from sleeves, spinning plates. Later, swallowing swords, vomiting arm-length paper bundles—tough on the body.
Crowds tossed coins in reward. I flung a leftover silver ingot snatched from Park Jiwon.
Goryeo folk's generosity stunned them. Park Jiwon looked ready to cry—hold it in. Proceeds go to promoter Master Eun, converting to favor for us.
Then came the escape act. An assistant bound the magician's hands to a pillar; Jangbok's eyes gleamed.
"He's definitely pre-cutting the rope and faking the tie. I'll watch the left hand—sir, you take the right."
Just like 21st-century Koreans at magic shows. Why obsess over tricks? Don't you value your money?
Hearing Jangbok's finger-pointing shout, the magician beckoned confidently: tie me yourself, no tricks.
Jangbok stormed out, cinching the rope till the magician's fingers purpled, screaming in pain. Audience laughed. No gangrene concept here? Right.
As expected, he escaped flawlessly.
Jangbok's dumbfounded face drew belly laughs again. Our Jangbok has variety show talent.
As Jangbok fumed for a redo, the magician handed him an apple branch.
Jangbok beamed, bit in... it was horse dung.
"Urk!"
Audience pounded tables roaring (me loudest). Suspicious glares turned on us; Park Jiwon waved frantically.
Right—we're not in cahoots. How'd they do it? I watched! Would work in the 21st century too.
The climax: fire-breathing.
Like bartenders doing for regulars at cocktail bars back home... but way more extreme.
Even modern me and Park Jiwon gaped.
"H-Hey, isn't he on fire?"
"Th-Think so? Or maybe for shock value..."
Jeong Gwangchung said en route: Chinese illusion shows end with intentional fails for laughs, avoiding "deceptive rabble" labels.
But no. Guan Yu patience activated: burning flesh smell wafted over.
Screaming, rolling magician flung sparks to nearby paper and screens.
Nakseondang fire rerun.
No good. We need to watch, get Master Eun's clearance, leave quietly.
A blaze means official probes, not her back channels.
I dashed through frozen crowd.
Active Skill: Eulji Mundeok's Flame
[Fire suppression mode engaged]
Rushing in, Master Eun clutched my hand, tears streaming.
"Truly grateful. This rascal is my distant nephew—Great Hero Kim Chunsik saved him with supreme martial arts; you're his lifesaver!"
Don't make your nephew do fire shows. Qualified to bash Yeongjo? Was this era why Yeongjo made his son do a failed box escape?
Magician lost hair, face badly burned, but rest means he'll live.
Solemn now, Master Eun said,
"Servant survived—fortunate. Nearly torched the market. Great Hero, you've graced not just me, but all here. I'll report the earlier matter upward with full effort. Once things settle, return."
"If so, I'll never forget your grace."
Her final words suggested "above" accepted the report.
Good. Downgraded from "Joseon gone mad" to "king gone mad." Success.
She nearly probed the fire details—new trick?—but luckily focused elsewhere. No time anyway.
Park Jiwon, though uninvolved, obsessed over it.
"Like Nakseondang before—where'd you learn fire-quelling sorcery, brother?"
This ghost-hunter talk. You a Confucian? Ah, practical learner.
I explained in "practical learning" terms they loved.
"This world seems empty but brims with vital qi (oxygen) sustaining all. Fire feeds on it too—like man suffocates without air, flames die deprived. Doubt me? Cover a candle with a bowl later; it'll snuff out devouring the qi. That's the principle."
"So smothering the magician snuffed his flames!"
"Precisely. But this demands deep Yi learning mastery—don't try it, little brother."
No visions of Park diving into infernos. The toil to half-humanize him with "Confucian studies."
Park Jiwon nodded.
"I'll remember. Where's this principle from?"
No need to say elementary science reader.
We'd reached the southern tavern; Chief Envoy Yi Taeng burst out.
"Chunsik! Where were you? Why the soot?"
I eyed Park Jiwon, said,
"Sat at market, sparks flew... Why seek me?"
"Emperor summons us all. Wants solo Joseon envoys later. Something's off."
Hmm. Here it comes.
No way Master Eun's report reached the Emperor already.
Probably got Jo Dongha's moves via other channels, summoned impromptu.
But my goals achieved. Environment set: even if Yeongjo becomes "abdicated king" in Joseon, Qing won't fuss much.
Now, better I vanish. Innocent envoys will vehemently deny Shengjing invasion talk; Master Eun's upward report soon clears it.
As planned, Qianlong's (Dzungar-urgent) hardest response: station troops in Liaodong for show. Countermeasures exist for that.
No need for me to shine more.
"Why me, title-less? You go. Sorry, but Chundangdae duties make bowing to the Jurchen Emperor awkward without cause..."
Nakchang Army insisted, slave to rank.
"No. You come."
"Why?"
"You speak Manchu. Emperor likes Manchu-speakers. Our scholars stiff-necked on integrity, refusing Manchu and angering him—but you're a merchant; no shame now."
This geezer—er, lord—mad? Craving "triple interest"?
But he feared imperial blade over interest. Who knew casual embassy chatter would rebound.
Others agreed eagerly. My sole ally: hitherto sidelined Deputy Envoy Jeong Gwangchung.
"We've done nothing shameful—why fear? If Emperor oppresses, offer our necks proudly; that's the scholar's way for posterity! Are scholars clowns, prancing in Jurchen tongue and beauties for the throne?"
Tearfully grateful, but zero tact.
Nakchang Army dragged Jeong Gwangchung off, drowned him in booze till near-death, then as chief envoy decisively personnel-shifted.
"Indisposed Deputy" out; No.3 Secretary Kim Gwangguk (Kim Gwangsu's disciple, genuine article judge) interim. "Overloaded Secretary" gets famed calligrapher Kim Chunsik as temp aide.
Like his great-grandad post-Tangeumdae battle report.
Unawares like merit lords from Uiju serving ancestors, unprepared me soon faced mankind's master directly.
Author's Note
1. Qianlong prepared about 1,750 tons of dried noodles and rice cakes for the Dzungar campaign. Stir-fried pork and egg stir-fry (exact method unclear, rendered as scrambled eggs here) appear in envoy records, seeming standard fare.
2. The pavilion draws from the real Beijing one Hong Daeyong tried (and failed) to see—sat uninvited, got ejected. Bought tickets elsewhere later.
3. Tricks mix what Hong Daeyong and Park Jiwon saw (audience participation, horse dung included); fire show is fictional.