Chapter 217
Chapter 217
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 217
Chapter Title: Imprinting the Rhythm of Rebellion (3)
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Kim Unhaeng sent a messenger to General Myeongbok of the Seonggyeong Garrison, laying it all out bluntly.
"His Majesty our King wishes to offer formal congratulations to the Emperor. If the imperial envoy hastens here, the Emperor's grace and our vassal loyalty will align perfectly without a hitch."
In truth, Joseon never performed such formal rites to the Qing Dynasty. They only did it grudgingly when an envoy happened to arrive around Lunar New Year.
And the Qing knew that full well.
So General Myeongbok was less delighted than flustered. It was the kind of bewilderment a bully feels when the nerd he's been shoving suddenly confesses love.
"Why the sudden change of heart from Joseon?"
It was exactly the question Kim Unhaeng had been waiting for.
By now, the letter from Robert Clive—entrusted to the江南 rebels, urging Joseon not to worry and to release the hostages since they'd soon force the Emperor's surrender—had arrived via the Hangzhou-Jeju route. With all the pieces in place, Kim Unhaeng could paint the full picture.
"We all know why the envoy's coming. That sly England twists black and white with fake proclamations and inverts right and wrong. His Majesty will see through it with his sage wisdom, but the common folk might grow uneasy. That's why we must show our true loyalty all the more."
General Myeongbok accepted the explanation. It wasn't because his name meant "bright fortune"—Kim Unhaeng's words rang true.
Joseon had never allied with Britain. Sure, the enemy of my enemy is my friend, but Joseons weren't dumb enough to French-kiss an Alien just because it killed a Predator. And it was undoubtedly true that Joseon was eager to prove that point to the Qing.
"It's embarrassing to say it myself, but folks around here call me the 'Yue Fei of the East Sea.' I may lack Yue Fei's talents, but I've been slandered by Jin Hui-like villains multiple times, so I feel our nation's grievances deep in my bones. I earnestly hope your enlightened envoy makes it all clear."
Nothing an outsider couldn't say.
Luckily, with correspondence flying back and forth, Myeongbok didn't have to show Kim Unhaeng his sour face.
Myeongbok felt relieved that the Governor of Pyeongan wasn't all that sharp. He forwarded his intelligence to the Emperor.
The report—that Joseon feared a false accusation—pleased the Qianlong Emperor. In a slightly buoyant mood, he selected candidates for the envoy.
King Yi Hwon hadn't left the capital without a plan either.
He hadn't known his sister's condition had turned odd lately, but for a king, the risk of rebellion wasn't a variable—it was a constant.
As he'd said, most of the Hoon'guk and Jangyongyeong were on rotation training in Pyeongan Province. Hwon was taking the Royal Guard and Guard of the Eastern Palace with him.
Excluding the scattered forces of the Bureau of Artillery in Bukhansanseong Fortress and Ganghwa Island—who couldn't mobilize anyway—that left the capital stripped of its entire main central army.
Provincial troops were negligible to begin with, and the Liberation Brigade cared nothing for internal politics unless it meant looting Hanseong. Same principle as why the modern British navy never staged a brigade-sized coup.
No people, no problem.
No army, no rebellion.
But his ministers were burning up inside. They couldn't fathom why Hwon overlooked his father in Namhansanseong Fortress.
A king's name could summon royalist troops from thin air. The Three Principles of Governance had buried that truth for years, but Joseon's military had never truly been bound to the material world.
Yet bringing it up would be tantamount to accusing Hwon of forcibly imprisoning his father. So no one dared mention it.
Whether he sensed their thoughts or not, Hwon said calmly,
"If word gets out I'm going to receive the Qing envoy, someone might petition citing loyalty and propriety. Since it's not my real intent anyway, have the Royal Secretariat announce I'm heading to the frontier to oversee military discipline. That'll reassure the families of the frontier guards."
The Royal Secretariat's press release went out. Influentials in Hanseong, including the Pyeongan officials, cautiously thrilled at this hint of a northern expedition.
In an undercurrent of heat more like molten lava than wildfire, King Yi Hwon departed Seoul before the envoy was even decided in Beijing.
In the rebellion Kim Unhaeng had effectively orchestrated, the flashpoints were obviously the capital palace and Namhansanseong Fortress.
Yet Kim Unhaeng's daughter Kim Suksukyeong was in the palace, and his son Kim I-hwan was at the fortress.
Still, he'd stayed cool enough to whittle sadae figurines because Se-hwa remained in Seoul.
Unlike Kim Unhaeng, Se-hwa hadn't returned to Pyongyang since last New Year's.
Kim I-hwan, Lee Jae-un, Hiraga Gennai, and Kaoru only knew fragments or had their own guesses. Only Se-hwa had received the full briefing from Kim Unhaeng (minus the status window talk).
Se-hwa watched her third child, Yi-chan, toddle across the courtyard. It was that toddler trance, lost in the simple joy of planting one foot after the other.
Her gaze softened.
She started to call Jangbok but switched to her lifelong maid Unnyeon instead. For the person she needed to task now, sending a woman fit the "inner-outer" protocols.
Hiraga Gennai, captain of Chunsik Unit 1, rushed to Kim I-hwan at Se-hwa's command and spoke in Japanese for secrecy.
"The Lady of the Inner Quarters says the rebels will soon abandon the capital."
This wasn't from Kaoru.
Se-hwa had compiled intel from Pyeongan officials tied to the Jangdong Kim clan, plus Three Flowers Hall, Chunsik Delivery, and Chunsik Ranch networks. Mentioning Kim Unhaeng had even won over the Noryangjin Park clan willingly.
Weapons were hidden meticulously by Jeong Hu-gyeom's crew and weren't standard merchant fare anyway, so they'd been excluded.
But in war, weapons were just a sliver of logistics. Rice, dried sides, sieves, fabric for flags and trimmed poles, firewood, hat strings, spare clothes—the list was endless.
Se-hwa had sifted the flows for anomalies.
The clincher: multiple people renting several ferries at once, plus iron bars and hammers.
This season, the Han River was starting to freeze, crippling both boats and foot traffic. Even Chunsik Fleet was grounded.
Sudden rentals like that screamed intent. Hiraga Gennai—Japan's top intellect, even if he'd only whittled adult toys lately—saw it clear as day.
"This means a lot of people must cross the river 'no matter what.' After that, the young master says to adapt as needed."
Kim I-hwan nodded, gazing calmly at the morning glory field.
He knew Japanese too. Thanks to his father forcing "family secrets" mastery on him, despite getting his own via skills.
"Got it."
"Does the young master need to head to the fortress? Even with us Chunsik Unit..."
"If Mother needed me, she'd have said so. Relax. But Father ordered constant updates since he's so thorough, so tell Master Sikni-dang (Lee Jae-un) to send pigeons to Pyongyang..."
Kim I-hwan trailed off and shook his head. Carrier pigeons were fast but easily intercepted.
"No. No need to rush Father so far away. Back-and-forth chatter might tip off those traitors."
"Then what should we do?"
"Keep silent until they make their move. I'll report to Father face-to-face when he returns. You head back to Mother and focus on her guard."
It was the proper stance for such a crisis. No faulting Kim I-hwan's urge to prove himself as rightful heir.
Kim Unhaeng—who'd have to summon the status window for negotiations in that delicate window after Jeong Hu-gyeom's rebellion solidified but before the northern campaign—would've disowned his son if he knew. But without spilling quest details, all Dad had were "call often, kiddo" clichés. Kids never listen.
Kim I-hwan flashed a smile like his father's at Hiraga.
"We've got an hour or two, right? Come on, help me pick greens and grate radish."
It was a baffling order, but Hiraga followed without question.
A vassal's duty was absolute loyalty to his lord, no matter how grotesque the deed—that was samurai ethic. All the more for a lord who'd brought him more gains than anywhere in Japan.
And someone like Hiraga knew exactly what foraging and grating meant. He tied on the cloth Kim I-hwan handed him and joined in.
Yi Hwon didn't repeat his father's abuses.
He'd reversed even the well-meant scoldings—like urging study—so Crown Prince Yi Jeong could study Western learning, but it was the right call for now.
Leaving the capital, Hwon didn't even mention a regency. State affairs would be handled from Pyongyang, with Seoul-only matters finalized by bureaucrats under the Chief State Councillor's lead. Palace and royal house fell to Queen Hong, naturally.
So the Crown Prince had no need to rush in, kowtow, and beg forgiveness. He lounged instead.
The eunuch from Crown Princess Kim Suksukyeong arrived just as boredom peaked.
"Crown Princess requests Your Highness's presence."
The Crown Prince lit up and hurried over. Kim Suksukyeong smiled at her young husband.
"Your Highness. With Father off on campaign, how heartbroken and worried you must be? I dared invite you to share this burning grief."
The undutiful prince—who felt neither—was left staring blankly at his wife. She beamed.
"Times like these make family bonds feel all the more precious. Don't you miss Grand Prince Yongdu after so long?"
"Eh, not really..."
"Your brotherly love runs so deep. Call for him quick. Pitching stones and Go board are all set. You there—Wash Horse?"
"Yes, sir. Standing by. Fetching Grand Prince Yongdu at once."
The voice outside belonged to a full-blown geezer.
But you couldn't knock him for it—not when he was once the kingpin of Joseon's underworld.
Pyochulju—rewarded with a dignified late-life post after years serving Dog-Beating Stick Kim, freed from ranch duty—swung the iron staff that named him.
"That Kim Chunsik won't let anyone slack off for free."
Forty years since his last Eastern Palace stint, but Pyochulju's edge hadn't dulled. He was a veteran gamer from the classic Go shell genre.
He'd thought infiltrating Hong Mo-jeok's ship on Ganghwa years back was his final hurrah. But life's unpredictable.
Hong Gugyeong said in a jittery voice,
"Calling in Grand Prince Yongdu right before the uprising—did word leak? We should've hidden him sooner!"
Jeong Hu-gyeom shut him down cold.
"No jinx talk. Hide the prince early? Everyone would've sniffed it out. We're not crowning him anyway. Once the Supreme King is free, it'll all fall into place!"
Jeong Hu-gyeom's crew hadn't coordinated with Yongdu or Supreme King Yi Geum beforehand. Too risky with constant surveillance.
Besides, this wasn't the era of Tajo or Sejo with lingering warlord clans. Rebel-crowned royals in Joseon were usually passive.
The script: total ignorance, then forcibly dragged to the throne. Sure, they hilariously fumbled against color demons yet shrugged off poison like wuxia protags (aphrodisiacs don't count), but their feelings didn't matter.
Still, Hong Gugyeong bristled. Treating Yongdu Grand Prince Yi San as backup irked him, Yi San's would-be lover.
"The Supreme King's days are numbered— if anything happens to the Grand Prince, even a successful coup won't last years."
Jeong Hu-gyeom soothed him for now.
"Who said anything bad? This works out. Excuse of visiting him gets us close."
"Y-you think?"
"Exactly. So quit dawdling and move. I'm heading straight to Namhansanseong."
As Hong left, Jeong Hu-gyeom hastily led his righteous army across the Han.
He tried shaking off the ominous premonition bubbling up.
As Kim Unhaeng assessed, rebels were eternal power-positivity bros. A bright thought soon hit.
His background made building a huge force early impossible (which kept it secret). Plan: secure Supreme King first, seize palace, then recruit.
Anyone quick on the uptake would join him. Like Gold Taeyang's clan, blocked from office after an inner palace massacre rap, or the Cheongpung Kim branch with the weird kid, or Gyeongju Kims whose selection hopes fizzled, dooming their sister to non-queen status.
Lost in fantasies of divvying titles to "coup merits," Jeong was like a modern lotto winner plotting post-jackpot life. Time flew.
Reality hit at the ruins of Kim Unhaeng-shattered Namhansanseong.
It looked like the aftermath of stone, wood, and earth legions clashing in bloody battle. Not his first ruin, but Jeong scowled anew.
'Can't even clean up the Supreme King's quarters properly.'
Kim Unhaeng truly wasn't loyal. But here, that worked in their favor.
His son—looking every bit as shallow and sly as Dad—emerged grinning at the head of troops to greet Jeong.
As Jeong pondered tensely, Kim I-hwan smoothly took charge.
"I know why you're here. Told the Supreme King everything. Your weary troops after the long march—let's eat first and talk."
With time ticking, "food first?" was off-limits. He'd griped it en route a dozen times already.
Treason troops knew zilch, as always. Starve march-weary men without reason, and they'd mutiny before rebelling.
Reminding himself his righteous army tripled I-hwan's, Jeong relented.
Soon, Jangdong Kim clan's full-course secret feast appeared.
No meager broth from cow-feet soup—real condensed-juice beef steaks, plus snacks and popcorn from Kaoru's house. Troops spread mats where the command post once stood, guzzling sake in glee.
"They say Jangdong Kims channel I Yin—Shang's chef prime minister—and it's true! Never knew beef tasted like this."
"What's this green? Not aster, not wild lettuce, but weirdly bitter-sweet."
"Who cares. First time seeing sesame oil so generous. Big-league stuff!"
A bit apart, Kim I-hwan poured Jeong a drink, playing classic sycophant.
"Supreme King comes out soon. But first, swear a few godly oaths..."
Jeong fully relaxed. Pathetic lineage, pathetic heir. Best idea: stall the King's entrance for talks?
Should've done it way earlier, before mobilizing.
To cut time-wasting, Jeong said briskly,
"Forget old grudges—Jangdong Kim clan gets eternal wealth and glory."
Seeing I-hwan's face light up, Jeong sneered inwardly. Empty promises cost nothing.
Soon Yi Geum emerged from long seclusion.
Majestic as Jeong envisioned. Maybe the Chunsik armor—lightning aura crackled around him.
The great old king gazed down at Jeong approvingly. His languid voice moved Jeong like a dream.
"I know your loyalty full well. Give it all, body be damned."
Jeong led the merged troops—including I-hwan's—toward Seoul. There, Hong Gugyeong had successfully raided the palace, securing Yongdu and capturing the Crown Prince.
Chundang fell to the pre-made "kill list," jailed one by one. Days later, word came: Kim Unhaeng surrendered in Pyongyang, capturing the Filial King.
Amid bows from a hundred officials, Jeong strode as haughty prime minister to the throne room. Hands once hacking fish heads now gripped state power tight.
Yet someone approached with head held high—even Prime Minister couldn't straighten.
Kim I-hwan. Jeong opened his mouth to berate the insolence, listing his lofty titles.
But I-hwan silently raised a hand. Then committed the unthinkable for a scholar.
Jeong caressed his burning cheek. Kim I-hwan grinned.
"Feeling with it now?"
Jeong shot up, scanning around.
No gore, no screams of pain. But the scene was pure carnage.
Most troops frolicked naked in midwinter chill. Some hugged knees, giggling and muttering. Not a spear or sword in sight.
'What? What the hell?'
Longdong Kim sorcery? Kim I-hwan said,
"Supreme King graced you—how dare you sprawl so rudely. On your feet."
Jeong whipped his head around, neck cracking.
There stood the real Supreme King Yi Geum—not hallucination.
But his expression wasn't warm pride anymore.
Yi Geum looked down at Jeong like an only son.
Author's Notes
1. Midai-dokoro originally meant the principal wife of top powers like generals or ministers, but settled to mean the shogun's (Sei-i Taishogun) wife.
2. Pyochulju last appeared in Chapter 126's 'Ganghwa Triangle Zone' part, ambushing the Dutch ship. Birth/death unknown, but in real history, he'd likely be dead by now.
3. Stripping, giggling, dancing, hallucinations, etc., match symptoms reported from British troops mass-poisoned by white snakeroot in Jamestown.