Chapter 198
Chapter 198
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 198
Chapter Title: Dice Rattling in the Storage Chest (1)
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In this war, aside from the costs of assembling and moving the army, the only other expenditure was the hundreds of Korean tea trees that Kim Unhaeng had bought with military rations and handed over on a whim.
Kim Unhaeng already had an excuse prepared.
"Upon careful observation, those barbarians don't know how to grow tea and couldn't endure their hunger for luxury goods, so they invaded. Thus, following the example of the ancients, I shared seeds and taught them farming methods while lecturing on chaos and order, and they withdrew on their own."
He meant it sincerely.
Kim Unhaeng, who only drank stick iced tea, knew nothing about tea. The fake paper he coerced Daniel Solander into writing was just a ploy to boost the brand value of Korean tea trees for a quick fix.
Kim Unhaeng genuinely believed that 'Europeans are just ignorant and don't know that green tea turns into black tea if you age it.' That's why he tossed them the only tea trees he could get his hands on right away—Korean ones.
It wasn't entirely wrong. They might taste a bit different from Yunnan varieties, but they could indeed become black tea.
The minor issue was that Kim Unhaeng, stuck in the role of a frustrated otherworld hero who couldn't do certain things in Joseon, got carried away as Europe's god of agriculture and spilled all sorts of modern knowledge.
'Thank you, Commander. Are there any precautions in cultivating these trees? Any tips...?'
'Do I have to tell you that too? Among the lands you know, there's an island south of India— that's the perfect natural spot for planting these trees.'
'Ceylon? No, that's a coffee plantation. How does a Korean know the geography of the Indian Ocean...? Did you hear from the British?'
'The ways of the world were already revealed by the sages long ago, so we have no need to learn from you anew. It's all in the records left by our monk who went to India a thousand years ago. There used to be tea plantations back then, but by the time Europeans arrived, they were gone, so you don't know.'
'Oh, a thousand years ago! I had no idea Ceylon's ancient civilization had such things.'
It was unfortunate that Account of Travel to the Five Kingdoms of India hadn't been discovered yet, leaving no way to correct this mess.
Kim Unhaeng should have mentioned the Ming Dynasty's Zheng He fleet that actually went to Sri Lanka. Still, he prided himself on having preserved the dignity of history by knowing Ceylon tea was indeed a type of tea.
He didn't know what the East India Company would think of schlepping Korean tea trees to near-equatorial Sri Lanka and failing miserably, but Kim Unhaeng truly believed he had bestowed a generous gift.
King Yi Hwon was also greatly pleased. To grandly commemorate the Jeongjo era, he publicly issued a proclamation praising Kim Unhaeng.
"The way of jimi (controlling barbarians with reins and yokes) lies not in wielding soldiers but in showing leniency. The merit of Grand Marshal of the Five Armies Kim Unhaeng cannot be said to be less than cutting off ten thousand barbarian heads."
There was no need to wonder why the Joseon king, a habitual kidnapper of foreigners, had suddenly turned pacifist.
Yi Hwon, who had even compiled his own training manuals, knew better than anyone how great a gain it was not to have fought in this war.
In his still-maturing philosophy of rule, an unconscious dark energy writhed unbeknownst to him.
He didn't have to try ruling in the style of Yao and Shun, whom he barely understood.
Prosperity is relative, after all. Thinking about it, the praise for the Yao-Shun era might just be because the surrounding lands were monster-infested wastelands.
Even if others regressed to a 'Yao-Shun era,' the results would be the same.
And now, it seemed like signs of that were appearing.
Upon hearing of the British army's withdrawal notice, Danuma Okitsugu didn't try to hold them back by saying Japan had green tea trees too (thanks to Daniel Solander's report that premium black tea required aging Japanese green tea, the British didn't bother demanding separately from Japan).
There was good reason for that. Japan had its share of people who sue firefighters for breaking down the front door after risking their lives to put out a blaze.
When the British first arrived, Danuma's political enemies had stayed silent, but as soon as the Qing army's defeat was confirmed, they started clamoring.
"He can't just get away with unilaterally inviting foreign troops and opening the ports without punishment! What if he gets cocky, claiming the foreigners saved the country, and shows ambition?"
"Danuma's always looked down on his superiors even before that!"
"I heard he poisoned the previous shogun too!"
"Seppuku! Seppuku! Seppuku!"
The traditional Japanese no-defense move—slit your belly to prove innocence if guiltless, or to atone if guilty—attacked Danuma with considerable momentum for a time.
"Anyone can backseat drive after it's all over! As long as their mouths work!"
For the furious Danuma, the British voluntary withdrawal was truly the hand of God.
Danuma merely conveyed to the British that he was grateful and they weren't going far, then quickly crafted a narrative that he had negotiated well with them to withdraw.
Edo's politicians judged it wiser to believe that than risk fighting the powerbroker Danuma over a vanished pretext.
Instead, they began fiercely contending over the power vacuum in Kyushu, including unclaimed Satsuma.
Unlike China or Joseon, where the sovereign dispatches governors or inspectors, Japan's feudal system couldn't function just by replacing the head.
Without coordination with the multilayered local societies below, rule was impossible. That's why the Tokugawa shogunate had no choice but to let even hostile factions from Sekigahara keep their rights.
But now, those local societies were uprooted entirely.
The plan was to dispatch deputy castellans to rebuild as per custom for heirless or confiscated domains, but that wasn't suitable for such a massive scale.
In truth, it was doubtful if any right answer even existed. Yet all players in Japanese politics touted their own 'master plan' as the solution.
Among them, the most cheekily brilliant came from the Kyoto court of Emperor Gosakuramachi.
The previous Emperor Momozono had been harping on direct rule and reverence for the emperor while waving fabricated loyalist propaganda like Nihon Shoki, then died not long ago.
But the court hadn't given up. Installing Gosakuramachi without shogunal permission was bad enough; their proposal was worse.
"If there's no daimyo and even the shogunate can't govern it, isn't it still the land of the realm? Shouldn't the court manage it?"
Naturally, it was shot down in an instant.
"We sent a bit less grain to the court lately due to military shortages, and you couldn't wait—did you pick up some weird powder to eat?"
"Maybe we should cut you open and treat it."
Unlike the 19th century, the current shogunate had 'repelled' the barbarian invasion. No brutal Satcho Alliance existed. Their audacity in trying to dip a spoon was admirable.
As the court deflated again, Edo's debates heated up. Even shogunal horse-style arguments like 'Draw swords! Duel to settle it!' cropped up frequently.
While the rulers floundered, a post-war storm more terrifying than the war itself raged in Kyushu. It was the golden age of famine, disease, and bandits.
Fortunately for the Japanese, the Qianlong Emperor hadn't yet announced any stance on Kyushu.
If he still claimed suzerainty over Kyushu's breathing room, Danuma might have seriously considered turning it into an imperial direct territory.
The scenario of the court naively planting flags in Kyushu, only for an enraged Qianlong to sever the Ten Thousand Generations Line, offered the shogunate a deliciously wicked pleasure. No gains beyond amusement, though.
The Qianlong Emperor gained nothing either. He was content with two of the Ten Great Military Feats: one from 'Ryukyu liberation,' another from 'Satsuma conquest.'
He had achieved or would soon achieve Britain (3), Russia (4), and Dzungars (5 or 1).
For Britain first, the emperor decided to bestow great favors on the 'hardworking' Jiangnan people.
He exempted taxes across Jiangnan (land tax, so irrelevant to merchants) and held massive exams to select scholars (honorary jinshi since no appointments).
But the greatest favor was proclaiming the Jiangnan Han Chinese—always treated as rebel reserves—as top loyalists, and posting his magnificent self-composed poems expressing that sentiment in every major Jiangnan city.
The worthless tax exemptions and exams could be understood as imperial sincerity. Victory's momentum acts as an intoxicant even for educated modern citizens, blinding them to their doom.
But those childish verses instantly sobered the Jiangnan folk.
It's like going to a company dinner, deluding yourself it's for free food, only for the boss to suddenly chant a forced acrostic toast—with commentary.
That intellectual shame decomposes even high-proof alcohol instantly. Those who've experienced it know: no matter how much you've drunk, you sober up fast and just want to leave.
In that objective state, Jiangnan people easily recalled dead family and friends, burned ships, stolen wealth.
'We who traded well with Westerners—why did this happen to us?'
Because of that Jurchen emperor scribbling such poems.
Now, excluding Zhili, the Eight Banners garrisons—mere ten thousand per province at best—had all rushed to the western front. Cavalry was needed for quests 4 and 5.
The loyal Green Standard camps were nearly wiped out in this war or dying in the ongoing Great Britain War. Qianlong planned to split quests: repel Britain for one feat, recover Taiwan for another.
Surviving Green Standard troops' very survival proved them disloyal. In other words, flipping the happy circuit: most soldiers left in the Central Plains weren't loyal to Qianlong.
What more could he want?
Yangzi salt merchants, Minjie boatmen, Xiangzhou Miao, Shandong White Lotus—exchanged covert glances.
'Ready?'
'Yeah, of course.'
The Qianlong Emperor's boastful official dispatches arrived in Joseon daily.
And I had no time to care about his quests.
Because as soon as the new year hit, the Status Window popped up.
Who knows how many years it's been. Almost nostalgic.
Sehwa's instincts were too sharp, so I waited alone in the annex on Lunar New Year's first day. Felt like there was something to discuss.
As if reading my mind, instead of the next skill reward, the Status Window's voice spoke again.
That sullen voice thrilled me.
Lest there be misunderstanding, I'm not a masochist. Anyone in my shoes would feel the same.
The Status Window, unlikely to congratulate me sincerely, soon got to its point.
Ah, right. It had said it was up to me now?
'Proposal' instead of 'decision' suggested my earlier hunch of some approval process wasn't wrong.
But I had no reason to pick hard mode just because that woman tempted me.
If this were a game, I'd take the speedrun route too.
But this involves souls on the line. Guys gambling their lives end up in penal labor camps because their brains aren't up to it.
I offered a perfectly wholesome, public-service-announcement gamble.
"How about becoming the crown prince's father-in-law? Even one save is fine."
A sigh echoed.
"Th-then how about becoming prime minister or minister?"
Damn picky. Another rebellion? Shall I set up a Jangdong shogunate?
"Then what have you prepared? You acted like there was a five-star objective worth hanging... wait."
I suddenly clamped my mouth shut as a wave of crisis hit.
The Status Window tried to speak, but I waved my hands furiously.
Once you rely on their info, you're forced to think based on it—inevitably manipulated.
Think stock chatrooms. I had to reason from scratch myself.
The Status Window usually prepped naturally upcoming goals.
And among likely future policy issues, the five-star one that came to mind was one: Northern Expedition.
Having lived in Joseon long enough, I knew. This wasn't about preserving Three Clans' bloodlines or Noron legitimacy theories—individual factors.
It was a curse. The shackles Injo placed on Joseon. Must pursue regardless of power disparity.
And now, many thought the power gap was historically narrowest. To me, it was like climbing the local hill and yelling, 'It's warmer closer to the sun!'
Even if a miracle succeeded, the aftermath was the problem.
Years ago, when the Status Window said my dice had escaped the board, it clearly stated:
'Even paying full tuition henceforth offers no guarantee of becoming Chief State Councillor.'
Becoming Chief State Councillor as a 'result' of Northern Expedition was possible even for a child—that monumental an achievement.
But 'during' the Expedition, I'd more likely be something like Supreme Commander of Joseon Forces than Chief State Councillor.
In wartime, the Chief State Councillor level usually took Inspector General roles, coordinating war support with other ministers. But among my Chundang faction, veteran high officials were still few.
In this war, if I'd been in Park Mun-su's position, many old ministers wouldn't follow regardless of my prestige or ability. Even as king, I'd use them elsewhere.
If I 'succeeded' at that presumed top-difficulty 'Northern Expedition' quest, ending the Ascension Chart game, and wasn't Chief State Councillor then?
I almost walked right into the trap?
The silent Status Window spoke.
La la la, can't hear. Not falling for it. Things as vicious as this Yeongjo.
The price for shaking the Status Window's stable soul-harvesting business was the separate burdens of Chief State Councillor path and completing all 12 quests.
So no rushing. Conversely, it meant I could pay tuition after becoming Chief State Councillor.
"Can I think it over? No need to decide the next objective right now, right?"
I'd expected that. Skills usually aid the next quest.
And unless it was my old 'little boy Truman' idea, no skill would make Northern Expedition appealing.
Japan, Britain, Russia, Dzungars—all beaten like dogs. None could beat Joseon in a fight, yet.
Climb ranks steadily, diversify situations for lower-difficulty quests besides Northern Expedition.
If needed, engineer other—manageable—crises for Joseon.
Former King Yi Geum welcomed the new year at what was no longer a fortress but still called Namhansanseong for lack of a better name.
He stared blankly at the storage chest in the corner.
Due to Kim Unhaeng's measure that secluded side rooms become lax in surveillance when servant needs grow, there was no royal kitchen here. The former king had to keep even rice barrels in the same room.
But Yi Geum wasn't dissatisfied with his lot.
He just felt like he'd missed a crucial moment to use... something in there.
At the same time, a strange vibration rang in his nearly deaf ear.
Probably an ossicle issue, but Yi Geum felt a storm raging inside the chest.
Two transcendent premonitions—one leaping timelines, one crossing dimensions—seemed to approach the old king.
But then, from outside, Royal Physician Kim Sugyu's booming voice rang out.
"Your Highness the Former King. Time to test the Chunshikgap."
The premonition startled and fled. Yi Geum forgot all prior thoughts.
Yet he didn't chase Kim Sugyu away.
His own edicts held no value now, and even he found it hard to outright refuse the Chunshikgap that had kept his ravaged body alive so long.
So long as he lived, opportunity would come.
Not simplistic like 'legitimate line' or 'Yi Seonggye,' but closer to seeing through the promise his son (he didn't want to think 'friend') made in their talks. In some ways, a harsher uncharted path.
Sparks flew. Yi Geum gritted his teeth.
Author's Note
1. Korean tea trees also grow in warm regions, so whether they can be cultivated in Sri Lanka—who knows for sure. But introducing seeds isn't easy; as mentioned in the previous chapter's notes, even the British struggled with commercial Assam black tea in India proper, so it won't be simple.
2. Hyecho's Account of Travel to the Five Kingdoms of India was discovered in 1908 in the Dunhuang caves. Side note: The Zheng He fleet's monument commemorating forcibly replacing the dynasty in Sri Lanka still stands today.
3. During Emperor Momozono's reign, loyalist retainers forced Nihon Shoki on him in the 'Horeki Incident.' The shogunate saw it as a loyalist ideology consolidation attempt. No evidence the emperor was assassinated, but related retainers were all punished, and Momozono oddly died young at 21.
It's 1762 in the story, so wartime. Current emperor Gosakuramachi, Japan's last female emperor, was Momozono's half-sister.
The Horeki Incident marks loyalist stirrings far before the late shogunate's Mito School boom—a major current, as even Seongho Yi Ik noted 'the Japanese court plotting to overthrow the shogunate and restore the monarch directly,' even writing a piece Japan's Loyalty.
4. 'Supreme Commander of [Region] Forces' was a Ming title for wartime overall military command in a specific area.