Chapter 206
Chapter 206
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 206
Chapter Title: Northern Grand Duke Kim Chunsik (2)
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Of course, as both the former king Yi Geum and the status window had pointed out, not everyone in the world could be like Kim Unhaeng.
Contrary to Kim Unhaeng's assumptions, Sin Heup was genuinely channeling resources into the peripheral units that Yun Pil-deok had no time to bother with, all to bolster the northern defenses.
Wasn't that exactly what the Four Emperors of the Southern Sea were demonstrating? These days, military might was what propelled the nation forward. There was even a joke making the rounds that the traditionally prestigious post of Yangnam Observer was now little more than a staff officer under the Marine Commander.
That said, Sin Heup hadn't overlooked the political angles either.
The chance to dramatically expand the northern army's strength was now—and only now.
During the Jeongmyo Manchu War, Nam Iheung, the Military Commander of Pyeongan Province, set Anju Fortress ablaze and took his own life while cursing the king.
"If only the state had let me raise troops as I saw fit, today never would have happened!"
It was a line often quoted when decrying Joseon's military unpreparedness, but from King Injo's standpoint, it rang as hollow as the fortress exploding around him.
He'd permitted troops to be raised precisely to prepare against the Jurchens—what had come of it?
The Yi Gwal Rebellion, the most formidable provincial uprising in Joseon's history. And it wasn't even ancient history; it had erupted just three years before the Jeongmyo War.
Better to bend like a drawn bow. The Jurchens wouldn't depose the king if you just kowtowed properly, but rebels would strip him of both throne and life.
And the later kings had followed suit.
Pyeongan's forces had indeed been steadily reinforced, but it amounted to little more than tightening up the border guards. Creating a large, flexible field army was a political impossibility long before any question of national capacity arose.
If someone asked why not plant politically unified clansmen like Kim Unhaeng in Pyeongan, the answer was simple: that's exactly what they'd done. Hence Hong Bonghan's stint as Pyeongan Governor under Yeongjo.
But a provincial governor wasn't a border general and held no command over troops. Factional politics had always been a target of suspicion, drawing relentless scrutiny.
Yet right now presented a once-in-history chance to effectively turn the Pyeongan Governor into a border lord.
For starters, Kim Unhaeng might be a factionalist, but he was also Chundang's leader.
Unlike Hong Bonghan, he hadn't gained power because he was a factionalist; he'd become one because he wielded power.
Stripping away Kim Unhaeng's "factionalist" trait wouldn't weaken him in the slightest.
The one who'd weaken was the king, deprived of Chundang's backing—and he'd fight tooth and nail against any such checks.
As for foreign powers, it was even more outrageous. For Joseon folk who'd toyed with the Jurchen "short fuse" even amid the Qing's dominance during the Three Campaigns, this was a short-seller's dream opportunity.
The south, forever neglected whenever attention turned north, could rest easy too. Kyushu lay in ruins, the British pinned down in Taiwan—so the only force rampaging there now was the Southern Sea Naval Joseon Force.
Only now—only at this moment—could utterly irrational policies be pushed through in Pyeongan.
The king had likely funneled authority to Kim Unhaeng with precisely that in mind. Pyeongan's forces had ascended to "political central army" status solely on Kim Unhaeng's presence.
Gwanseo would never again see such freedom to expand its military.
And Sin Heup was determined to etch his name into that moment.
As harvest season neared, Sin Heup submitted a proposal.
"To make Western guns, we need flint stones—and the best come from Hamgyong Province, especially Samsu. If Your Excellency would write a letter, I'll fetch them from the Samsu Magistrate. And train our guerrilla unit en route."
Samsu Gapsan alone would make for grueling mountain marching drills.
But stones littered the roadsides—why go all that way?
Ah. With Pyeongan's smugglers wiped out lately, he planned to raid Hamgyong for stock?
Fair enough—he'd need the Samsu Magistrate's blessing. Let it slide; to groom a retainer, one must show breadth.
"What should I tell the Samsu Magistrate?"
"Magistrate Gang Gaeju recently saved some Qing folk who fell into the Yalu River. He'll want to prove his innocence."
I caught on instantly.
Of course, killing or letting Qing entrants die in Joseon meant shouldering the full fallout. Superior state and all.
But showing them kindness invited even harsher punishment. Enemies, after all. Border military posts were why no one volunteered.
And though little known, an Observer could inspect even "foreign domain" magistrates. Study the law, people.
Then it hit me—this wasn't someone else's problem.
With the Manchu Eight Banners yanked every which way into chaos, Han Chinese refugees were flooding across in droves.
Once they'd flouted the mining ban, they wouldn't just settle down farming. The most diligent were the smuggling couriers for Joseon envoys; the rest turned to banditry or snuck over borders to poach ginseng.
Where to? Straight into my jurisdiction: the abandoned garrison of Pesa-gun.
The Four Armies were like the Six Garrisons—territories folded into the human realm after Sejong's demon incursion.
But where the Six were frontline fortresses, the Four felt like everything north of the civilian control line: a demilitarized zone.
No people lived there, period. Later kings lacked that fearsome sovereign's ruthlessness for forced relocations.
Nature had flourished untouched, DMZ-style.
Wild ginseng thrived, naturally.
And the prime digging season was right now—autumn—when the red berries made them easy to spot.
But as Gang Gaeju's case showed, any Qing spotted near the border meant punishment, no exceptions. Dump the blame on some local commander or sentry officer, fine—but my reputation as the superior took the hit.
No helping it. Treat them as if they'd never existed.
In exchange for greenlighting Sin Heup's Hamgyong smuggler shakedown, I tasked him with an errand.
"I take your point, Central Army. But on the way to Samsu, detour through Sagun—there's work to be done."
Truth be told, I had no intention of letting Sin Heup loot Hamgyong fences outright. That required local intel networks.
When Magistrate Gang Gaeju handed over the flint with trembling hands, Sin Heup—goal achieved—eagerly followed Kim Unhaeng's next directive.
Kim Unhaeng truly was the blade of northern conquest, the one to fulfill the Three Bloodlines' longings.
The order to "secretly apprehend" every last Qing ginseng poacher in Sagun could only mean one thing: no handover to the Qing.
Sin Heup carried it out to the letter.
"Dare these barbarians cross our borders to steal our ginseng? Beat them all down!"
Troop morale soared to the heavens. Pure patriotism, of course—not the ginseng any Jurchens might carry.
Fired up, Sin Heup field-tested new tactics for the Pyeongan guerrillas right there.
The Jeju Hounds, bred by Park Jiwon, had earned rave reviews for taking down Admiral Go Seonbok during the rebellion and sniffing out missionaries in Hamgyong.
True enough, their descendants zeroed in on the Qing poachers' camps in Pesa-gun without breaking a sweat.
Then they sized up the intruders like so many clothed roe deer.
"Wh-what the hell are these monsters?!"
"Clubs! Get the clubs!"
"You think clubs'll work on that? Run for it!"
"Run faster than the dogs?"
"You idiot—as long as you're faster than me!"
As pandemonium erupted, Sin Heup issued his command with grave dignity.
"Unleash the Hunnu troops!"
Historically speaking, the Huns had always been the Han's bane. The Kazakhs, armed only with bayonets, charged in tears.
"Uwaaaaa!"
To the Han, it must've looked like grotesque barbarians howling war cries as they bore down. Luckily for the Kazakhs, the Han opted for surrender over drawing daggers in a last stand.
Joseon typically handed border crossers and illegal entrants back to the Qing.
No authority to punish a superior state's subjects. Same as 21st-century U.S. troops.
But their fates post-handover diverged sharply.
A U.S. soldier's odds of punishment—for murder or terror—were lower than a chaebol chairman's. The Qing, by contrast, executed their own border-hoppers and smugglers with extra zeal.
Couldn't have the emperor's dignity tarnished over lowly scum. U.S. grunts lowly too? Sure, but they vote. The Chinese wouldn't for another 300 years. Trust me, I saw it.
So I'd planned to break their spirits, rebrand them "Ming refugees," and put them to work as official slaves. Better than the chop, right?
Assuming, that is, the number topped out around a few dozen as expected.
I asked Sin Heup.
"...How many?"
"Four hundred sixty-six."
That's a third of the Pyeongan camp's total infantry! Even more as a share of active duty! Why sound so damn proud?
Intel from Gil-sang pegged it as just the Manchu Banners slacking off a bit—how the hell so many refugees?
Brits never touched Gangnam, so not them. White Lotus already stirring? Or was interior China even more of a mess than I'd figured?
This many? No manpower to watch them, no place to stash them tonight even.
Nothing clever came to mind. I settled for a stopgap.
"Draft an old ship from the Liberation Unit for now and pack them aboard. Drop anchor about ten ri off Samhwa (Nampo) harbor—they won't escape."
"I was fretting over confinement myself. As expected, the Commandant's stratagems outfox even ghosts."
Ghosts they were. Evil-spirit British-style internment. Their American spawn did the same; Anglo-Saxons had this weird knack for skimping on prisons, always coming up short.
My head throbbed. Mental strain—Guan Yu's endurance (his weak spot) couldn't soothe it. I called it, retreating to my quarters for rest.
The moment I arrived, a sudden sound of reading emanated from I-hwan's room.
Father's lesson time: Better to stay dead silent.
I marched in and confiscated the lurid doujinshi wedged under his book. Laughable ploy against the man who'd raided a crown prince's spank folder back in the day.
I-hwan's face turned the shade of Sado Seja right before the basket lid slammed shut. Tough luck.
Know how much this costs? The telescope scam too—diverting goods was becoming a habit. What did he think he'd amount to?
No servants in sight; I rarely showed this early. I'd sent Eoji off lest he kick up a fuss loading the Chinese onto their boat.
Fatherly duty to edify my son: I sentenced I-hwan to wood-chopping duty.
We needed bathwater tonight, after all. 20th-century sex ed peddled nonsense like channeling lust through exercise.
Entering the bedroom, I found Se-hwa looking up from sorting ledgers and letters.
"Early today. Something urgent to discuss."
Honestly, I wanted no part of work woes. I made a face.
"What?"
Se-hwa fell silent a beat, then blurted.
"Gifts incoming soon."
"Spill."
Oops. Se-hwa took a while to stifle her laughter before continuing.
"You know Yeon-i's handling business here like in Seoul?"
"I do. Someone already sent her way?"
"Yes. Word of Inwangsan Yeon-i has reached Pyongyang."
When I dealt with Kim Seong-u, I'd summoned Yeon-i back from Seoul. Se-hwa's idea: three kids, too cruel keeping us apart so long.
She was hurting for trusted hands in Pyeongan too, so Yeon-i spun up a Pyongyang branch of the Shaman Safety Planning Department.
Yeon-i took to it surprisingly well. She'd handed Inwangsan off to her disciple shamans and come down.
Then toured local shaman dens near Pyongyang, shuttering a few.
Not on my orders to smash them. Word was she roamed spouting regressor-esque ravings.
"God is dead. We killed him."
Zarathustra? What kind of talk for shamans?
Weirder still: some bought it, quit their shops, and joined her. Huh?
Anyway, I didn't pry too deep into women's affairs—improper. She capably proxied Se-hwa's external contacts as a yangban wife short on outsiders. Good enough.
A request had come through that channel. Se-hwa whispered low.
"Gasan Magistrate's squeezing gold prospectors, extorting cash. Locals want direct appeal to the Governor but fear reprisals—sent discreet gifts via notables."
Gasan Magistrate Yi Cheol-un was no saint, but the squeezed notables earned zero pity. Forgot private mining's flat-out illegal here?
Gifts felt a tad off-protocol too. Se-hwa soothed, reading my mind.
"Small amount, but handle the grievance well as governor, and the masses will sing your praises. Pyeongan's famed for its gold and silver veins, no?"
"Hm. I'd like to help, but by law, commoners can't mine gold..."
Wait.
Through the open lattice, I spotted I-hwan grunting as he swung the axe.
Labor... reeducation...
Illegal entrant disposal: solved.
Kim Unhaeng promptly purged Gasan Magistrate Yi Cheol-un.
No need to touch the gold angle. Grain loan ledgers in shambles, rotten reputation—but above all, Kim Unhaeng's report greased the slide straight to exile.
Then, via Yeon-i, he reached out to not just Gasan but every major gold and silver operation rumored in Pyeongan.
Joseon's private mines operated under "overt extraction banned"—semi-official tolerance, per the records.
Easy to squeeze at a powerbroker's whim. Kim Unhaeng's ideal setup.
He "uncovered" seven or eight such sites, strong-arming their backers: insert his own direct overseers or else.
Private mines typically mustered workers to dig, skimming a profit cut.
This mirrored that, save one twist: the Qing dispatched across multiple sites owed their entire haul to manager Deokdae.
Deokdaes funneled most of that gratis windfall back to Kim Unhaeng. Their cut dwarfed what locals fetched, so win-win. No escape for the Qing.
The Northern Grand Duke's labor reeducation program.
What started as border-silencing arrests now buzzed with fresh purpose.
Oblivious that Joseon had become a demon den for foreigners, Qing poachers kept fording the Yalu to beat ginseng season.
Sin Heup rounded up every insolent barbarian. Daring to defile Sejong's enchanted Sagun with queues and Manchu garb—labor camps were downright merciful.
They went not just to gold and silver but copper and iron pits for gun-making.
Over winter, a consensus crystallized across Pyeongan.
"Take the Governor's slaves, get official mining sanction!"
Even the shadowy smugglers trickled in to surrender.
Had it been 19th-century "pay taxes, we'll legitimize," they'd have spat and kept digging dark. But recognition plus free labor? They flocked.
The funds flowed cleanly domestic to Kim Unhaeng—funneled right back into gun production for laundering.
White Lotus smuggling stayed hush-hush. Routed here, the money trail muddied—safe for Kim Unhaeng to pocket. Minor losses, but cash wasn't the goal anyway.
Troops honed skills on human hunts; unofficial gun output exploded. Jangdong Kim finances revived.
And when White Lotus arsenals outstripped local Qing Green Standard stocks, distant Europe tied off the Seven Years' War treaty's final thread.
History diverged in spots, but one clause rocked Asia.
Britain traded concessions elsewhere—no Cuba repeat; they kept the Philippines from Spain.
Author's Note
1. The narrative doesn't imply Injo deliberately crippled northern forces to curb rebellions. Probably no better options.
Also, Yi Gwal's revolt fell short of Yi In-jwa's in scale. "Strongest in-story" means the sole provincial uprising to seize Hanyang.
2. In 1763, Samsu Magistrate Gang Gaeju really got exiled for that incident. Records suggest he rushed a pontoon to save Qing swept away mid-illegal crossing—which became his crime. King's Yeongjo, though—factor that in.
3. Contra Kim Unhaeng's thinking, not every rock works as flint. Stone Age folk distinguished useful from useless, traded accordingly—even for hand axes.
4. Samsu encompasses modern North Korea's Ryanggang Kim Jong-suk County. Famous quartz (flint) source; neighboring Gapsan yields pyrite (another flint type). China snagged mining rights recently.
Story glossed over, but like most subsurface wealth, Joseon didn't exploit it much. Samsu Gapsan's real specialties: deer velvet and musk.
5. Yi Cheol-un was the actual military magistrate of Gasan then. Bad rep checks out (rose to commander even). Unrelated to Soron bigwig Yi Cheol-bo—Hampyeong Yi clan vs. Yeonan Yi.
6. Strictly, Pesa-gun's depopulation stemmed from Joseon's entry ban. Couldn't form a county sans settlement; criminals kept slinking in, so total lockdown. Border sentries? Meticulously placed.
7. Korean gold formations trace to Mesozoic South-North China plate smash—magma welled at the boundary. Pyeongan's and Chungcheong's the standouts. Kim Unhaeng governed both, funnily enough.