Chapter 220
Chapter 220
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 220
Chapter Title: Gods and Kings(1)
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While Joseon's forces gathered in Pyeongan Province, the White Lotus Sect rose in Shandong, and British troops landed in Jiangnan... And one man's self-staged rebellion was thwarted—the Qianlong Emperor hadn't been sitting idle over the winter.
He hadn't confided in any of his ministers, but deep down, the Qianlong Emperor admitted that his Ten Great Victories thus far had significant flaws.
This was tremendous progress. Improvement could only come through acknowledgment of one's mistakes.
That was why the Qianlong Emperor had embraced Heshen, his trusted aide, despite the stigma of backdoor politics.
Once the purges swept away the sycophants, new loyalists showered him with silver. The flood of bribes stirred up by Heshen raged fiercely, sweeping up hidden wealth from every province and funneling it to the center.
In Kim Unhaeng's case, that money had been scattered back out as bribes or salaries. Unintentionally, it recirculated to the provinces through the Pingseon-gwan class, who supplied goods to high officials and Chunsik Group employees.
But Heshen had no need for such measures—and certainly shouldn't resort to them.
If he was to offer bribes to anyone, it could only be the emperor.
As each province suffered temporary fiscal strangulation, an enormous hoard of silver amassed in the capital.
And the scraps of manpower and wealth left behind in the provinces were thoroughly devoured by the Red Banner rabble, controlled by that 'central power.'
Rather than simply saying 'the emperor's power is strengthened,' it was more accurate to say, 'local rebellions or invasions can no longer weaken the emperor's power.'
Better to amputate a rotting limb that couldn't even move.
And the time to unleash that power was now.
Not just because rebels were rampaging in Shandong, right under Beijing's nose—but because he had decided to dispatch an envoy to Joseon.
Joseon was surely watching Beijing's moves closely. Failing to display proper majesty here would doom the empire, win or lose.
However, the Qianlong Emperor didn't consider this a 'counterattack' by the Qing Empire. That term was for equals.
In war, the 'just cause'—the alpha and omega—was all about 'distinguishing rank.' A crucial task that couldn't be neglected.
The deputy entrusted with this grave mission needed a matching 'rank.'
The Qianlong Emperor summoned his brother-in-law, General Fuca Fuheng.
In the original history, this era's greatest commander had shouldered much of the Ten Great Victories by conquering the Golden River? Salt River (Miao Rebellion) and Burma.
A 'Yellow Banner family' registered in the same banner as the emperor. In the current crumbling Great Qing, where the Grand Council and ministers were mere shells, he was second only to the emperor.
The Qianlong Emperor raised his hand imperiously before the prostrate Fuca Fuheng.
Yet he said nothing of the 300,000-strong army he would entrust to him.
Not a word about the grand strategies and tactics to deploy them.
Freshly produced tens of thousands of catties of gunpowder, tens of thousands of matchlocks and cannons—no need to beg Joseon like during the Three Rebellions—provisions, horses, and military supplies numbering in the 'tens of millions of taels of silver' due to their sheer weight and volume... all paled in comparison.
A master doesn't haggle with slaves over details. What kind of fool master instructs a serf to fan the flies while fussing over the broom's worn bristles or how to sprinkle water?
The Qianlong Emperor, master of humanity, showed the path for mankind—not walked alongside them.
To a god who was the end, not the means, 'let there be light' sufficed.
And so, the Qianlong Emperor did just that.
"Exterminate them utterly."
The envoys plastered frozen Yalu River with edicts proclaiming the 'Southern Expedition of a Million Heavenly Troops' and prepared to cross.
Normally, Qing bureaucrats hated even letting Joseon copy imperial edicts.
Problems from Joseon not recognizing verbal orders as official? Not their concern (since they'd been told orally). But public disclosure meant any quibbles over wording or interpretation fell on them.
Like 21st-century civil servants avoiding documenting citizen complaints.
For Qing officials to spam edicts like this, aggressively 'communicating' with a vassal? Their intent was obvious.
Applying Chinese math: 'a million heavenly troops' meant about 100,000 actually.
Even 100,000 wasn't a number Joseon could scoff at. If it were an eastern rather than southern expedition, Joseon would fall even in victory.
Yet neither I nor the king worried.
No longer in Seoul, openly practicing the White Man's Severing Swordsmanship, the Rear Prison King thrust his blade into the wooden dummy before him. A normal person would've had their sword snap—or unlucky, their wrist broken—but the king's blade deftly pierced the mock heart.
Veins bulging on his arms, the great sword astonishingly cleaved the dummy in two and soared upward. No matter how you sliced it, he belonged in the Bronze Age as a king.
The Barbarian King Sado Seja declared,
"Barking dogs don't bite. The more they inflate their numbers with empty boasts, the more they reveal they don't want to come to Joseon. It's a plea to be left alone."
"Your Highness's insight is truly profound."
But our Rear Prison King's vaunted military prowess had its limits.
"If we're following the strategy you proposed for the Northern Expedition, we must first receive the envoys properly, no?"
"Indeed."
Feigning a pause, the king soon launched into a rambling nonsense.
"From ancient times, banquets with courtesans and dancers have welcomed envoys. Here in Pyongyang, it's even more indispensable. Why not make it grand, leaving no room for the envoys to poke around? And to do that, shouldn't we rehearse in advance?"
True to his vows, a king of men. Insatiable greed, repeating the same mistakes.
I waited until he sheathed his sword before replying.
"Excessive spending will make the envoys suspect Joseon's wealth and strength. I've already made the rough preparations, so Your Highness needn't trouble yourself with such lowly affairs. Simply display serene majesty and virtue. They won't dare act out."
Not because my provincial funds—my money—would be heavily tapped for the banquet. Joseon officials must offer frugality as routine counsel.
Sure enough, the Rear Prison King couldn't hide his shame before my orthodox Neo-Confucianism.
"I... Is that so? I thought at least you'd understand my heart... Well, your candid advice rings true, so I accept it."
Thank goodness no historians were around. Wouldn't want to be lumped in with his ilk.
And the preparations were real.
Nearly two months had passed since the envoy announcement.
In that time, I'd been run ragged. My failure to spot my son's betrayal owed partly to that.
Troops massed in Pyeongan were herded into abandoned fortress fields far from the Uiju road. Couldn't let the envoys see them.
Of course, not all forces could mouse-click relocate. Plenty of unavoidable garrisons remained.
Those soldiers cleared nearby civilians out entirely, stuffing them into the homes as fake residents. Like North Korean tour guides—all actors.
Chase people from homes in winter? Who cares—no Songdeokbi quest here.
Honestly, initial attempts sparked civilian uprisings clashing with troops. That woke me up fast.
Who knew that'd cause a rebellion? Turns out, per Yeon-i, some local elites spread vicious rumors.
'The officials are seizing homes! Believe their 'return in spring' promise? Naive—government always beats and evicts returnees. Heard Kim Chunsik already stole tons of houses in Seoul!'
As if smears could tarnish my spotless reputation.
As expected, remnants of old cavalry commander Kim Seong-u's network. I pinned the fabricated 'home seizures' on their plot and beheaded a few.
Then posted proclamations revealing the truth.
'As you know, His Majesty visits soon—how could officials act rashly? If you doubt me, trust His Highness's stern majesty.'
The governor-citizen hotline worked. Probably helped by the traitors' heads on display.
Convinced them it was just a temporary swap during the off-season, with camp labor gigs, and compromised.
I profited by confiscating the executed elites' assets. By the envoys' customary Uiju stay, cleanup would be spotless.
Summarizing essentials of the operation, the Rear Prison King seemed to snap out of his revelry.
Stroking his beard with a slightly serious face, the king said,
"Then I'll leave the envoys to you, Kim Chunsik. But... any news from Shandong or Jiangnan?"
"I'm no general, lacking military insight, but with a million troops rising from Zhili, the sect rebels in Shandong won't hold long."
Up to here, even our 'military genius' king could've guessed. I paused, gauging how much to tell the expectant king.
Recent nonsense about Joseon as an ally, Robert Clive's chummy letters—I knew the British Jiangnan ops roughly.
But best not forge state ties with Britain yet. At least until the envoys left.
I chose words carefully.
"And per Korean merchants sailing Hangzhou-Jeju, in Jiangnan... the English seem up to something utterly bizarre."
Jiangnan's problem was lack of military power.
Unlike the White Lotus Sect, Jiangnan rebels weren't long-prepared and trained.
Ample capital and manpower, but converting to 'military force' demanded organizational expertise.
They lacked it. Mostly merchants or gangsters—such groups were just 'Prosperity Societies,' not warlords or states.
And true to form, internal squabbles abounded.
Recruiting scholars? Existing cadres bristled at haughty literati; scholars fled or rediscovered Qing loyalty, sick of thug power grabs.
The Heaven and Earth Society had no choice but to ally with the British.
They leveraged 'merchant prowess.' Smuggling ferries from Joseon via Park Jiwon to seize Jinjiang County (next to Shanghai), prime canal junction.
This lured British alliance—Clive noted their inland canal assault lacked means.
Thus, the European coalition landing opposite Taiwan at Zhenjiang embraced Heaven and Earth Society's dazed wealth and populace, roaring in joy.
That roar manifested as cannon and gunfire.
One Red Banner branch conducting 'Heavenly Mandate Rites' near Zhenjiang got literally struck by lightning amid chaotic looting.
After brutal bombardment, 500 French marines under Duregne behind knightly cliffs skewered them. 10,000 Red Banners scattered without counterattack.
Blame shattered command from looting? Insult to Duregne, father of French marines.
Admiral Porter and Colonel Washington smacked lips as their French attrition plan backfired.
Officially, a coalition victory. Interpreter James Flint offered expert analysis.
"Picking up some Euro bastard and adopting him as a Ming descendant? Clever ploy to deny any faction legitimacy monopoly amid infighting—but a boon for us."
The European coalition had no intent to aid anti-Qing struggle benevolently. Ideally, reverse: seize the 'Ming Emperor' for a puppet regime, plundering southern China's riches.
Like the East India Company later interning the Mughal emperor in Delhi's Red Fort—premiered here.
Not trusting his British blood. Nationalism's era hadn't dawned.
As Go Sanhwi told Park Jiwon, the new emperor's mixed features proved exceptionalism, not alienness. Folks questioned Sun Quan as exceptional fool, not Westerners in Sun Jian's house.
James Flint emphasized power balance over blood.
"No one monopolizing power is illusionary. No one guards a communal warehouse diligently. Plus, no dominant faction means we can snatch it easily now."
Robert Clive agreed. Local lord co-optation won impossible Plassey for him.
"Timing's perfect. We just smashed the Red Banners—rebels won't dare object."
Not from gratitude; object, and British outdo Red Banner atrocities tenfold.
But overly optimistic puppet-mastering millions via one emperor? Jiangnan brimmed with 2,000 years of Confucian-honed scholars.
Flint noted,
"Traditionally, Chinese emperors hold secular and spiritual authority, backed by Voltaire's philosopher class. Rebels alienated local elites now, but fear of Europeans might unite them."
Clive glanced at Henry Porter, Duregne, George Washington et al.
All wore 'Professor, too fast' faces.
Clive summarized for Flint:
"Strip spiritual authority, emphasize secular; make intellectuals shun merchant-thug rebels, forcing reliance on us. Divide and rule?"
"Exactly. Cull defecting intellectuals—wartime allows 'various means.'"
No objections; Flint expected none, flowing on.
"But to ensure 'division,' excise only spiritual authority from the emperor—botch it, and secular vanishes too. Needs finesse."
Then Duregne, vanguard victor boosting fame, made a French 'fanatic state' remark—Voltaire again.
"Got an idea. Emperor's in our hands—baptize him Christian."
Not expecting devout European ally.
Baptism's 'washing' rite symbolized old faith severance—like modern cults urging family cuts.
French proposal meant Catholic, but Anglican Washington et al. didn't fiercely resist.
To British, religion was tool. Henry VIII's church birthed from lust, not piety.
Religious blocs as power spheres? Long past. Britain ruled Catholic Philippines nonchalantly.
And Anglican head was the king—tricky for Chinese emperor.
Generals nodded.
"Leave to Jesuits and Paris Foreign Mission priests, steeped in local knowledge."
France's Catholic armies lacked guns? Never chaplains. Baptism smooth.
Zhou boy 'sainted' by Heaven and Earth Society got 'name' from Europeans.
Priests named him after Peter's 'rock' for China's faith fallow fields.
Thrice denying Ming lineage, politics, war? Fitting.
Pierre in French.
Peter in English.
Great Ming Second Empire's first emperor, Emperor Zhou Peter, revived post-grand 'baptism' as Han-Christian monarch.
A unifying divider.