Chapter 221
Chapter 221
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 221
Chapter Title: Gods and Kings(2)
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Thinking of Europe brings science to mind as well. The European coalition forces' approach was an impeccable scientific endeavor.
Just as they had in India, they conducted "thorough research" into Chinese customs and culture, then pushed forward with "practical policies" based on that knowledge.
They excellently fulfilled the Chinese emphasis on "family registers." In East Asian inheritance systems, adopted sons hold exactly the same rights as biological ones.
Christian? The Qing Emperor follows Tibetan Buddhism. The founding emperor of the Ming dynasty dabbled in Buddhism with the White Lotus elements. What's the problem?
The backlash from Confucian scholars was something the European forces had anticipated from the start. They would rebel against the Qing Emperor anyway, as fellow "heathens," so it wasn't much of a risk.
The Europeans displayed absolute academic confidence. Jupiter I's legitimacy felt utterly natural.
About as natural as a robotic penguin doll modern zoologists send into a penguin colony.
The local gentry, who prided themselves on being more intelligent than birds, were outraged.
"I knew those merchants would run wild and sell out the country like this!"
"What? Sun Quan's style? Pairing with foreign devils has just doubled their ignorance! Picking up a few lines from novels and calling that worthy of emulation? As if there aren't better lords to follow!"
"They should've at least looked north to Shi Le or Ran Min—how can they serve that foreign emperor?"
They grumbled indignantly among themselves. They only grumbled because doing anything more in this Heaven-and-Earth realm would land them in a European-style "military tribunal" on the spot.
Europe's proud modern judicial tradition extracts rational evidence and logical judgments to arrive at the desired verdict. This meshed perfectly with the rapidly imposed military government in Zhili.
Of course, European soldiers committing daily murders, assaults, rapes, and lootings went unprosecuted. The people of Zhili, having tasted this astonishingly advanced European governance, quickly began to miss the Jurchens.
Scholars might not throw punches well, but they wielded brushes masterfully. Just three days after Jupiter's ascension, they crafted a plausible slogan.
"Aid the Qing and exterminate the foreigners!"
They didn't charge bare-handed into gunfire like the Boxers. Scholars are wise through study. Even Dong Chun-gong might've tried with five stars, but most of Jiangnan's Dong Chun-gong practitioners were now with the Heaven and Earth Society.
Instead, they swiftly escaped or mobilized family connections. The Heaven and Earth Society weren't some separate faction—they were neighbors who'd always lived mixed in the villages. The Society had initially sought alliances with scholars anyway, making intel easy to obtain.
Especially now, with scholar numbers massively inflated from usual. Emperor Qianlong's foresight in freely handing out jinshi titles after repelling the Dutch East India Company's first fleet shone through.
The coalition controlled Taiwan, Zhili, and the southeastern Chinese seas.
Most of Jiangnan remained under Qing control. Viceroy Li Shiyao of Liangjiang was greatly shocked upon hearing the news.
"I wondered how Zhili fell so easily—sure enough, traitors plotting rebellion from within!"
Indeed. It was all due to internal subversives. Never his own incompetence or mistakes.
'We absolutely cannot let that happen.'
With communication severed north-south by the Shandong White Lotus rebellion, the Emperor had entrusted full authority over Jiangnan to Li Shiyao.
There was no better man than Li Shiyao, the empire's hero who'd once defeated the British. Former Zhejiang governor Zhang Yugong, now promoted to Viceroy of Liangguang, had joined as deputy commander of the Four Provinces' Naval Forces under him.
However, granting Li Shiyao such power wasn't because he was fool enough to revel in promotion without thought. Emperor Qianlong attached responsibilities fitting the authority.
The proclamation of Fuca Fuhang's 300,000-strong army marching south reached Li Shiyao before Joseon, naturally.
Such a massive force couldn't be solely for heretics.
It was a threat: if Jiangnan looked unfavorable to the Emperor when Fuca Fuhang crushed the White Lotus and arrived, Li Shiyao and all subordinates would be turned to pillars of salt.
Li Shiyao indiscriminately gathered soldiers from the Red Banners, Green Standard Army, Eight Banners—whatever he could seize.
On the other hand, he issued orders to thoroughly root out the vile spies selling the country to the foreign invaders.
The rebels likened Jupiter the Emperor to Sun Quan, but Li Shiyao's current authority dwarfed even Wu's emperor, who needed Ho ancestor's permission for defensive wars. Within days, a bloody storm swept Hangzhou, Shanghai, Guangzhou, and other metropolises.
The consequences for a local thug calling in the mafia because the Yakuza squeezed him were obvious.
Among them, George Washington, top dog in the Virginia slave trade, was mafia elite.
Even from Britain's view, they couldn't tolerate France swaggering any longer.
When the French won the skirmish they'd expected heavy losses from, Admiral Henry Porter and Colonel George Washington grew anxious. No need to overly fear such trivial Chinese troops.
Washington secretly summoned Heaven and Earth Society cadre Gao Shanwei, keeping it from other nations' generals.
Then he spoke smoothly.
"From now on, we'll head east to Fuzhou, Ningbo, Hangzhou, and ultimately strike Shanghai. Drop Shanghai, and the Yangtze is fish in a barrel. We can even reclaim the old capital Nanjing."
Gao Shanwei wasn't impressed by Washington's American frontier spirit. In his raspy voice, he said,
"You pride yourselves on big ships, so striking from the sea would be better. No matter how fierce Western armies, Jiangnan still holds hundreds of thousands of troops."
Washington didn't snap at the savage presuming to advise strategy. He'd been waiting for those words.
"I know. But port cities are hard to seize without attacking from both land and sea. That's why we need you. In this Zhili and Formosa, and the cities I listed—your friends are still there, right? With inside help, it'll be easy."
"What guarantee do you have of victory after victory? If this sloppy plan sparks a revolt gone wrong, we'll be slaughtered without aid!"
And the Heaven and Earth Society's hidden assets everywhere—their lifeline as "allies"—would be thoroughly destroyed. Slavery awaited next.
As always.
Washington knew well how to handle slaves.
Washington stood. Leaning down to the seated Gao Shanwei, he brought his face close.
"I've never seen such brazenness. So, whose war is this? As expected of a slave—hoping others reclaim even your freedom without risk?"
Words from the icon of liberty and independence even Kim Unhaeng knew. Even without the soldiers behind Washington, Gao Shanwei couldn't budge.
Washington spotted the slave's whipped expression on Gao Shanwei and smiled faintly.
"You won't pretend not to know the blood sown by the Lord's soldiers crossing oceans for the Great Ming Emperor and his people. Well then, I count on you."
Gao Shanwei could only groan.
Installing the Jiaqing Emperor wasn't entirely out of left field.
Most Heaven and Earth rebels had realistic reasons to become penguins now.
Too late to cut losses in shock at Western atrocities—the Qing wouldn't spare them. They rationalized: "He's roughly like Hongwu Emperor in origins."
Thus, upon hearing Gao Shanwei's dilemma, comrades' discussions veered strangely.
They began seeing themselves as champions fighting for Great Ming's plight, squeezed between Britain and Qing.
Amid such comrades, Gao Shanwei spoke gravely.
"Just endure a bit longer. We've resolved to restore the Ming, so our lives are forfeit anyway. Thinking on it, not all bad. If the English open all ports, a path might open."
"What do you mean?"
"Tianxia's now in vile Jurchen hands, and Western pirates like Dong Zhuo eye it. Just like regional heroes vied to rescue Emperor Xian from Dong Zhuo."
Gao Shanwei wasn't exactly scholarly. But for his audience, apt citation.
"Then we must find a Liu Xuande here. Amid northern bandits and southern Japanese claiming Heaven's Mandate, where alone upheld righteousness purely for a century since Chongzhen's Jia-shen year? Where lies the Little China?"
Countless queue-less heads (just shaved the front) turned. Gao Shanwei steepled fingers under his nose.
As if not monopolizing the connection, but truly for legitimacy, he said,
"Right. Joseon."
'Paradise for believers, hell for nonbelievers.'
Such slogans are called eight-character true words.
Even the coalition crowning a Christian emperor doesn't know. Only one man in that eastern land where it'll develop knows the spell.
But copyrights matter for religions selling easy salvation—a fact the White Lotus knew well.
White Lotus followers screamed each time a comrade's head exploded from bullets or guts spilled from saber gashes.
"True Vacuum Home, Wusheng Laomu!"
The born must die. To avoid perishing, cease existing. The Eternal Goddess, unborn thus immortal, leads them to colorless void. Sinless homeland.
Such "rapture" scale scoffed at Western barbarian scriptures' 144,000.
What god so stingy would anyone serve? Wusheng Laomu ultimately saves her 9.2 billion imperial fetal children. No cultish number-snatching mudfight—grace for all.
Having eaten Kim family great rejuvenation pills, fire harms not. Smoke obscures, but costly Joseon-bought guns doubtless topple Jurchens relentlessly.
Emboldened faithful surged like locust swarms, heedless of obstacles.
But leaders needed higher thought than locusts.
Lead of the Eighteen Dharma Protectors, Meng Chan, ground his teeth surveying the slaughterhouse battlefield.
As premodern martial artist, Meng Chan's true specialty wasn't bare hands but weapons. His spear and blade, swung with full might, claimed countless Qing lives.
Yet comrades' lives drained faster than bullets and arrows. A stark shift from before.
'They tidied up so quickly...?'
Initially, White Lotus held advantage.
But Fuca Fuhang's horde flipped the tide instantly. Martial artists plotting中原 bloodbath swept by imperial wrath.
Fuca Fuhang wasn't brilliant, but solid general. As Li Shiyao thought, he knew not to squander 300,000 wildly on White Lotus suppression.
No adventuring. He ignored rebel spies' false surrenders, unawed by desperate numerical charges.
Just steadily pressed, harvesting followers like crops. Armies need no stratagems, but generals avoiding them are rare—can't disparage Fuca Fuhang.
Meng Chan's worries deepened accordingly.
But wrong place. Distracted briefly, he nearly died.
A Red Banner soldier's spear in red hood grazed Meng Chan's side. All-in strike unbalanced him, staggering forward.
In battle frenzy, he'd smash the exposed nape painlessly.
But adrenaline waned—pain surged. As Meng retreated a step, the soldier caught breath and stance.
Next instant, twin blades struck from behind.
One slit throat, the other pierced Mingmen acupoint. Knees buckled under cervical and lumbar crush; Oh Samrang vaulted over, back-to-back with Meng in flawless guard.
Only then did she speak.
"Why stand dazed!"
"Hm. Stray thoughts. But why abandon your post for here?"
Unlike Meng's hope, Oh Samrang didn't say "to save you."
"Situation's dire—retreat the army first. Already signaled other Dharma Protectors."
Meng scanned anew. Confirmed shared strategic sight with other Protectors.
Meng clenched fist.
Indeed, must visit Joseon once more.
Drugs or guns nice, but intel paramount.
Rumor Emperor sending envoy to Joseon—if they submit and send fleet to Shandong, true dilemma. Unlike Qing, White Lotus's long maritime transshipment with Joseon gave vague sense of their naval power.
'Wait, fleet?'
Meng delved into thought, forgetting Oh Samrang's warning.
As true miracle of Chun-sik Zhenren shows, Tao originated east.
Xu Fu taking boys and girls to Penglai wasn't mere health scam. Those 3,000 and Xu Fu at least escaped Qin Shi Huang's late tyranny and chaos.
The tantalizing hunch faded. Dillydallying invited more foes.
Oh Samrang swiftly beheaded the front soldier. But not alone this time.
"Heretics lack judgment—even women rampage wildly!"
Too far for blade. Hissing, Meng seized the dead soldier's spear.
Meng carried no gun—why need weapons weaker than fists? Cannon-like thrust half-smashed the soldier targeting Oh Samrang's head.
"You alright?"
Panting, Oh Samrang said,
"Keep daydreaming like that, no high master survives."
Meng flushed, about to apologize. She added,
"You missed the retreat flag earlier too. Watched worried, came to fetch you. Don't make me die too—withdraw together now."
Meng forgot all continental and White Lotus futures.
At that moment, Joseon King Yi Hwon solemnly held mourning rites for the Qing Emperor in Pyongyang.
Historic in myriad ways.
Paid respects at Gija Tomb in Pyongyang, reaffirming Joseon's civilizational roots, then in mingfu robes like Ming days, prostrated north with officials.
Rites impeccable—even strictest scholars couldn't nitpick. Chun-dang scholars Kim Unhaeng handpicked and summoned to Pyongyang were Noron Neo-Confucian essence.
Envoy Wang Danwang felt more queasy than pleased.
Wang Danwang, young official risen recently via Qianlong's courtier shift.
Huashen's friendship helped, but no reason to doubt his talent.
Modern Koreans mythologize exams, but networks guarantee fairness akin to tests—at least historically widespread for eras tests couldn't match. Dutch East India Company didn't hire via exams.
Plus, Wang Danwang had economic expertise.
To promote native currency, he'd ignored imperial edict accepting famine relief grain as silver. Pre-modern barter intolerable.
Substantial "donations" to himself minor. Matched ledgers by raising warehouse floors, piling rice atop—wisely dodged.
Outdated fixation on physical goods anyway. Moderns trade vast sums on screen numbers. His overzealous patriotism foiled him—caught donating amassed wealth as military funds for promotion. Loyalists often suffer.
Thus astute, Wang Danwang suspected Joseon's altered attitude.
'One king's mind changes. But not all courtiers agree. These attendees' ranks aren't low...'
Too sophisticated, vast a nation for collective deception. Scholars' pride rejects childish theater. Is a state's government street-thug rabble?
'Then this young Joseon king wields experience bending all officials...'
Wang Danwang sought answers. Needed trustworthy source.
Ignoring the devout mourning beside, he turned to the man gripping sleeves watching: Joseon Pyeongan Governor Kim Unhaeng.
Not just known pro-Qing—Wang felt inexplicable kinship.
Yet Kim Unhaeng's wistful gaze seemed fixed not on the rite, but elsewhere.
And indeed it was.