Chapter 212
Chapter 212
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 212
Chapter Title: The Turbulent Northern Expedition (2)
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Just two days ago, Kim Unhaeng had suffered under General Yongdu Yi San's abuse of power, leaving him currently unable to invoke Shin Sukju's Integrity.
But that was for the best. Had he tried it now, Kim Unhaeng would have been thrown into utter confusion by the unexpected aura emanating from Park, a mere market warden and no historical figure.
It wasn't because this "Yellow King" lived up to the joke with some transcendent existence.
No, Park hadn't come to Kim Unhaeng relying solely on his own power.
The market warden system, which controlled the circulation of goods in Joseon, had begun over a decade ago when Kim Unhaeng's Three Policies for Office were adopted.
It was the collaborative brainchild of King Yi Geum, who desperately needed to rebuild the shattered national treasury after the Equal Land Tax Law, and Kim Unhaeng, who couldn't care less about weakened defenses or rising prices.
Or, to put it another way, it was the bastard child born from the desires of those two men.
And that bastard child had sniffed out and absorbed its own kind—people who "existed but went unnoticed."
Illegitimate sons, slaves, former local officials and village clerks, licentiates who had bought their posts with phony certificates, military officers who had donated loyalty funds—they all got sucked in indiscriminately.
The ruffians, renegade monks, beggars, and illicit merchants closely tied to them were captured as well, serving as their weapons or tools.
Like some otherworldly beast that sprouts antlers after devouring deer and wings after eating birds, the market warden collective underwent grotesque transformations every time it absorbed such "talent," swelling and mutating endlessly.
They advanced entirely independent of Yeongjo's or Kim Unhaeng's intentions.
They had long since transcended their original purpose of simple commercial tax collection.
Sometimes they managed ferry crossings on the Han River. Other times, they acted as brokers in markets, issuing rulings. Often, they wielded private violence to maintain "public order."
Even that was relatively traditional, by their standards.
To expand commerce, many raised tobacco, potatoes, chilies, or hunted ducks and fish. The market warden from Jangdong Kim clan who had gifted carp to the family during last Chuseok was a prime example. Western naturalists would have been astonished to find similar professions in Joseon.
In this process, the ceaseless exchange of experiences gave birth to "standardized knowledge."
Yi Ik's Discourse on the Dialectics of All Things in the World wasn't revolutionary for its insights alone; what mattered was that it was a book "with a clear publisher."
Once the Jangdong Kim clan cracked down on pirated editions and the Seongho Academy diligently expanded and revised the content, people could "cross-reference knowledge under an authoritative edition."
It was the same phenomenon that had occurred in Europe after Gutenberg. This accelerated the development of knowledge to an unprecedented degree.
For instance, words like "sweetfish," "anchovy," and "catfish" all refer to the same fish. But to the uninitiated or folks from different regions, they might as well be gibberish.
Conversely, a single word like "beast" can mean tiger, leopard, snow leopard, or even marten, depending on context.
In such a Babel-like chaos right after a language patch, so-called "scientific progress" was akin to the ambition of compiling a dictionary. Yi Ik's work cracked open that floodgate.
The market wardens, who stood to gain (and had to pay their bureaucratic fees to the Equal Land Tax Bureau), preferred verifiable documents with proven accuracy.
Specialized "manuals" for advanced knowledge not covered in the compendium fetched high prices. Unit standardization, forged in bloody brawls, had been settled back in the early days of the wardens.
Meanwhile, market wardens handling culture and arts brokered elegant artworks in the open.
The Jangdong Kim clan's genuine masterpieces owed half their support to these wardens. Of course, they also dealt in erotic art and woodblock porn in the back alleys of Jangdong—but art and obscenity are as hard to distinguish as conquest and subjugation.
Not just painters and sculptors, but critics, appraisers, and dyers born from their circles saw their value skyrocket. Few wardens were artists themselves, but they needed expertise in all these fields to avoid getting conned.
Recently, new provincial market wardens posted to Jeju and Uiju due to maritime customs duties moonlighted as unofficial interpreters.
Of course, "interpreter" here leaned more toward broker. Given the heavy involvement of middle-class folk, their networks in that world were endless. Secret schools masquerading as private academies teaching barbarian tongues had even sprung up covertly in Dongnae, Uiju, Bukcheong, Jeju, and Suncheon.
As borderlands, many also ran workshops producing firearms, weapons, oilcloth, spears, and swords. Nor could one overlook how the Jangdong Kim clan's great pharmacy leap prompted wardens handling herbs nationwide to double as physicians.
Not everything was smooth sailing. This "knowledge boom" often twisted into chaos due to conflicting interests among the wardens.
Yet even modern America insists french fries are vegetables and thrives just fine. The big picture matters more than petty errors.
Amid the collar-grabbing, deceptions, backstabs, knife fights, and chaotic tumbles, the market wardens grew into unrivaled experts on their wares.
Thus, it mattered not one whit who a single Noryangjin rice cake market warden named Park was or where he came from. He wasn't one man. He was a legion.
Market wardens were paper bureaucrats of the government, de facto local gentry and a finite elite class in practice, polymaths and scientists of practical knowledge across fields, and drivers of Joseon's economy as merchants and industrialists. On the flip side, no small number dabbled in the shadows as criminals.
In the world history Kim Unhaeng knew, no class quite compared.
But he could think of the term that came closest, however distantly.
For an orthodox noble like Kim Unhaeng, it was a name worthy of eternal enmity.
'Bourgeoisie!'
These were the insolent upstarts rising in earnest from this era onward, soon to behead kings and nobles across the world.
Park, the representative of Joseon's nascent bourgeois class, slowly stated his business.
"To the childless wastrel, the quarrelsome brute to his neighbors, the inveterate gambler bankrupted at the tables and wife-beater at home—thanks to the grace of the state, such men can now stand tall before the world. How could we not seek ways to aid our country?"
I felt no swelling emotion in my chest. This was a danger signal, if anything.
The lowly of this era must be loyal to the state, not love it. Ways to aid the state are what we yangban teach them—not something they figure out on their own.
It sounded like the country belonged to them.
It's mine.
Park turned humbly to the side.
"Thus, knowing it presumptuous, I sought an audience with Lord Seonhwaja—that is, Kim Yakhaeng—precisely because, beyond his connection to Your Excellency, no scholar has amassed learning so rigorous in discerning right from wrong, good from evil, as far as I know."
"Ahem. Overly kind words, my lord. I've read books all my life, but being of humble birth, I've not amassed wealth, so I rely on this man for a bit of guidance. I do hope you'll hear him out."
So you're saying Yakhaeng, you're nothing but a puppet. And you're kin to the Hae line? Might as well exile you to Heuksando like in history, you wretch.
I refocused on Park.
He'd probably heard about the northern expedition and rounded up his merchant thugs posing as righteous volunteers to snag a generalship or somesuch. If the "commission" was right, I wouldn't mind helping.
And sure enough, Park's words matched my guess.
"To that end, we market wardens have formed a patriotic donation pact and gathered grain, gold and silver, copper, salt, silk, and cash for the national emergency."
Got it. I'll pass it along nicely. No guarantee it'll all go to the northern expedition—modern national donation drives are the same way—but that's fine. Maybe build a dam on the Yalu?
But Park didn't summon servants to haul in the treasure carts. Come to think of it, Jangbok would've spotted such a procession, and he hadn't mentioned anything.
"It amounts to some 300,000 nyang in cash, too much to bring here. But we've set it aside for the court's immediate use, so if Your Excellency would graciously convey this to the throne, it would be the greatest favor."
I could only groan inwardly.
300,000 nyang?
Meaning this donation pact was offering funds rivaling three years of Joseon's ordinary expenditures...?
The king looked thrilled enough to faint.
No wonder. The alpha and omega of war—money—had been solved in one shot.
I knew Joseon's private sector had far more leeway than the state, but I hadn't imagined it could be mobilized like this.
Even I, Duke of the North, couldn't easily handle that sum at once. Then again, a top Korean conglomerate's annual net profit casually exceeds North Korea's GDP.
This was money too massive to skim off the top.
As Park said, the 300,000 nyang included plenty of metals and grain as hard assets.
Many mistake "one nyang" for a single coin—that's "one mun." A nyang is a string of 1,000 coins.
300,000 strings would sink a warship. And with bulk goods, you'd need a whole island for storage. No surprise if this federation-like donation pact controlled an islet or two, like Joseon's chamber of commerce.
Try diverting it for resale, and you'd get caught fast. Above all, messing with a group holding 300,000 nyang was suicide.
Oblivious to my pain, the king was ecstatic.
"I hear this man is a distant cousin of Magistrate of Asan Park Saseok, who already enjoys fame for boldly sailing grain ships undaunted by storms, rivaling the Liberation Squadron. From the likes of Jeju Governor Park Jiwon in his clan, we see their family spirit endures despite base lineage.
And Park Saseok's son Park Junwon is a disciple of Kim Unhaeng's brother Kim Yanghaeng, is he not? Kim Unhaeng has offered much saltpeter to the state in the past, fitting the ancient adage that gentlemen befriend their own kind. We must encourage such houses, so appoint the young Park Junwon as special commissioner to the munitions bureau, despite his youth."
Oh, damn. Zhu Xi preserve us.
Park Saseok might as well adopt his distant cousin tomorrow. And thanks to the king's forced Chunhyang play, my family got dragged in too.
Now with Banam Park and (I'd guessed as much) Jangdong Kim entangled, no Noron could breathe a word about the illegitimate exclusion law.
Even Small Noron Right Minister Seo Myeong-eung, eyeing it slyly with his "how dare a baseborn," wouldn't dare oppose the king's two greatest houses and the throne at once.
His scheme was obvious.
And sure enough, the rice-chest king suddenly morphed into a reformist crown prince for the future second son.
"Those market wardens led by the Park clan, who devoted themselves selflessly to the state this time, deserve reward. I've long pondered this. In a land of two million households, if we exclude illegitimate offspring and sons of widowed remarriers, who would remain?"
Long pondered my ass. He's winging it now, staking his collection on the moment.
"There was no eternal exclusion of illegitimate lines even in China originally. Moreover, let us discuss allowing all so-called middle-class folk to sit the literary exams. In chaotic times, we must seek talent far and wide."
The rice-chest king's strategically tacked-on closer silenced the court.
Anyone opposing illegitimate exclusion now was a northern expedition saboteur. King Jangmok's spirit would snap their spines.
I couldn't speak up either. Normally I might, but my posts—Observer of Pyongan and Senior Councilor of the Bureau of Military Supplies—made me a vanguard of "chaotic times" pacification. Even without Park's 5,000-nyang lip gloss, I'd stay mum.
Above all, the king's ploy had turned me into the hero who rallied baseborns for class unity and patriotism.
Before persuading the king, I'd face colleagues' glares: "We knew you hobnobbed with baseborn scum all along, you bastard." I'd have to explain myself first. Damn.
But reforms don't end with a word, of course.
That's when the elder statesmen, meant to rein in the king at such moments, stepped up.
Minister of Personnel Hong Gyehui—my uncle, in charge of that exclusion business—spoke.
"Your Highness's edict truly heeds ancient precedent, yet abruptly abolishing long-standing law would unleash clamor from the ignorant, like cicadas and frogs in cacophony. Even as we fulfill Your Highness's long-cherished wish and pacify chaos, stirring the court is unwise. Pray deliberate at length."
Veteran savvy doesn't fade.
Park Mun-su might snap, "Think we discriminate against baseborn writs out of ignorance? Fine, then your own baseborn princes challenge the crown prince too!" But that's why he died unfulfilled in history.
Best to retreat here.
This wasn't mercy for their donation merit—I'd done the math too, as had the ministers now. You couldn't snub a group donating 300,000 nyang without a plan.
Nor did the rice-chest king aim to achieve everything at once. He merely seized Hong Gyehui's tail and pivoted back to the northern expedition.
"Well said. But my command stands—let all officials heed it. Reward that donation pact by other means if need be, but as Our Minister reports, now we deliberate border defenses. With the people's zeal overflowing, how could a king slack even a moment? As decreed before, I shall inspect the Bureau of Military Supplies, so muster and report, from the Quartermaster General and Senior Councilor downward."
Whoever's in charge is in for it with the chairman this fired up.
Yeah. Me.
In truth, had Kim Unhaeng immersed himself in state affairs as a high official from the start, he might have detected the rise of the market warden collective sooner.
Fortunately, his overall picture remained intact.
On the contrary, resolving "how to feed, train, and fortify defenses for the army in Pyongan to some degree" made strategy formulation far smoother.
It was paradise for armchair theorists and basement strategists.
Detaching warships and marines from the Southern Sea Command to the Yellow Sea Command (Pyongan and Hwanghae), recruiting refugees from the three southern provinces to Seoul since no central army existed—wild schemes oblivious to cost swarmed the bureau.
The riders bucked atop this Liaodong rodeo of a northern expedition numbered four within Joseon.
The pure-hate-Yeojin king and his ministers.
Kim Unhaeng, cooperating for his own ulterior motives.
Domestic malcontents, as Kim Unhaeng predicted, watching the main force strip the south bare.
And the baseborn and middle-class, yearning to settle centuries of grievance and step into the light.
With four coxswains, even a ship of the line might sink. The northern expedition's charging bull had no one steering—who knew where it'd gore?
Moreover, this rodeo had external powers circling like cowboys whirling lassos, biding their moment.
The Qing, Britain, Japan, and the companies, rebels, and interest groups clashing within—old acquaintances from the last war.
For something fresh, consider George Washington of Virginia.
Washington gazed through the window at his native cedar forests.
He might not return for years; he wanted to etch this beauty in his memory.
Devoted slaves sawed lumber on one side while tending tobacco leaves on the other. White overseers, with civilized acuity, spotted lazy slaves and taught them with sharp whips.
A pastoral scene of liberty, earned by divine mandate.
And he could do the same in China.
Hardly baseless confidence.
He was the great founding father, George Washington.
For the land of equality where all "men" were free—America the slave nation—he had fought and won against France and Indians to protect America, or rather against the British king's taxes in the name of "justice."
A barely clothed Black slave girl handed him his handkerchief, tending his cufflinks and attire.
Washington stepped from his mansion, seemingly born of an English farmhouse and West Indies hovel. He surveyed the 500 Virginia militiamen awaiting in the yard.
Then he declared firmly.
"We now depart for the antipodes in honor of the king, the gospel of God, and our own rights. In the Lord's name, are we prepared for this glorious crusade?"
Thunderous cheers replied. Acclaim for their captain, who had adeptly tormented the homeland these past months to inflate their worth.
In the summer of 1764, "Americans" set sail for Joseon over a century ahead of history.
Author's Note
1. The term "Yellow King" first appeared in chapter 190 (side story), derived from the nickname for Hastur, the cosmic outer god in H.P. Lovecraft's novels.
2. Joseon did develop official publications in fields like agriculture, medicine, and weaving. However, without dedicated scholar groups and motivations, they rarely progressed beyond one-off state projects.
3. 100,000 nyang isn't the full annual budget; it's the minimum for ordinary government operations. In the early 19th century, revenues dipped below this due to prolonged famine, right before Hong Gyeongrae’s Rebellion.
4. Magistrate of Asan Park Saseok did receive honors for single-handedly delivering grain ships unscathed amid storms that sank all others—a true story. His son Park Junwon was Kim Yanghaeng’s disciple, and Park Junwon’s third daughter became King Jeongjo’s consort Subin Park, making her grandmother to King Sunjo.
The fictional market warden Park is set as their distant baseborn kin. Kim Unhaeng’s ignorance stems from the vast distance between Park Jiwon’s house and this one—even by Joseon standards. Their common ancestor is eight generations back. Baseborn often go unrecorded in genealogies, amplifying the disconnect.
5. The final depiction of Virginia, household slaves’ attire, and roles draws from French diplomat Chateaubriand’s 1791 account of his American visit.