Chapter 222
Chapter 222
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 222
Chapter Title: The Reason I Knelt (1)
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It's a bit of a tired point by now, but the deep-seated hatred Joseon people harbored toward the current Jurchen-dominated order might not click right away for modern folks.
"Wasn't Korea basically a vassal state to China throughout history anyway?"
That's not wrong. Even I didn't get the difference between being a Ming vassal or a Qing one until I came to Joseon.
But imagine if, during the Imjin War, Toyotomi Hideyoshi had conquered the entire peninsula and turned the Korean king into his puppet. Just thinking about it stirs up that primal outrage against barbarians, doesn't it?
In 21st-century terms, it's like how you might grudgingly accept U.S. hegemony, but swap the hegemon for China and suddenly you're raging.
Everyone knows diplomacy has no room for goodwill, no matter the era. The Ming sent troops during the Imjin War to use Joseon as a buffer—that was obvious. Same with the U.S. jumping into the Korean War to avoid losing the proxy fight ideologically—contemporaries knew it full well.
But intentions aside, those who "rebuild" you—like the Ming or America—are always preferable to the invaders—like the Qing or the CCP.
After King Jangmok, the Joseon mindset mirrored that of 21st-century Koreans reduced to just another Chinese province. It gives you a rough sense of why the Northern School never caught on.
Terms like loyalty, righteousness, excuses, and justifications aren't some impractical ideals.
Humans move on spite. And I'm the prime example.
That's why this farce of a Pyongyang mourning rite for the Qing emperor can even happen—pure spite against the Jurchen bastards, willing to do anything to stick it to them.
Why didn't it happen in real history?
Because the Qing were untouchably supreme back then.
If someone had proposed a "fake mourning rite to lure and strike the Qing," the king and I would've faced a brutal coup, ending up in the rice chest entanglement I once dreaded.
But now? It works.
Right now, all of Joseon is shorting the Jurchens.
Sure, it's what every short-seller says, but this time there's solid backing. Look at their current performance—just how much is that stock gonna tank?
And I've bet on the short too.
My collateral? My soul.
I could feel sidelong glances from the guy next to me—Wang Danmang or whatever his name was.
But I didn't meet the rude envoy's eyes. Unless he was passing out opium, he couldn't speak to me during this crucial ceremony anyway.
Besides, I was busy with something far more important than the envoy—or even our king.
Floating in front of me was a glowing rectangular data plate no one else could see.
I whispered at a volume like a breath.
"I'll choose now."
Sure enough, the voice didn't disappoint.
"Once the groundwork's laid, it gets boring. Think of it as fan service."
The Status Window tossed in some key details.
Now it's gone full Western barbarian.
I couldn't care less about tactics from a loser like Hannibal... How about Deng Ai the Mountain Climber? He actually won.
Anyway, puzzles over that skill can wait. Something more pressing right now.
Just as Joseon resents the Qing for jerking them around, I have zero intention of dancing to your tune.
I pieced together the Status Window's behavioral patterns from what I've observed.
One: Quests are flexible, adapting to 'circumstances.' Goals bend to reality; reality doesn't bend to goals.
Two: Skills apply only to me but can defy physics. Like quests, they're variable too.
Pairing historical figures with their associated abilities is basically packaging. Eulji Mundeok's blaze screamed last-minute hack job.
Three: Like the smuggling quest, quests carry intent—usually to drown me and collect my soul.
In short, quests and skills aren't pre-planned; they're whipped up on the fly based on intent and situation. That's why the Status Window got pissy whenever I flipped the board.
This is my showdown with those bastards. Skills and quests are negotiable—if I play the situation right.
I tempted the Status Window.
"Last tuition bomb sale, and it's kinda bland, don't you think?"
The Status Window treated me like a gum peddler barging into her restaurant mid-shift. She replied in a dubious tone.
Hook, line, and sinker. Can't refuse negotiation itself, huh.
Of course I do. I'll even boost your subscribers. But they wouldn't actually be running a YouTube channel... right?
I shook off the stray thought and focused.
"Yep. You gave side objectives before—I'll mimic that. Complete withdrawal of the European expeditionary force that landed in southern China. 'Complete' means back to pre-war status. How's that?"
Last time, when the Status Window was at peak high from me screwing them over, she said goals reflect what I truly desire deep down.
So this side objective fits too. With the uppity bourgeois advancing and the international chaos you caused, we gotta block Western barbarians and their toxic ideas.
My vast historical knowledge says the French Revolution's brewing soon. Time to seal the borders again.
After a brief silence, the Status Window asked:
"By now, you know I've figured out your system. Side objective rewards were skill draws via mage silver, right? I'm taking the risk, so front me some. Gimme one skill I want. Hell, take the remaining 100 too."
I named the skill. The Status Window hesitated long.
Just as I wondered if the connection dropped, her voice returned.
In that moment, I felt a pang of office-worker sympathy for the Status Window.
Her tone carried the exact frustration I feel toward that sociopath rice-chest king who dismisses my groveling with "I know your heart." Probably the field agent's objection got overruled by the bosses.
I almost offered her some comfort words—better relations for later.
But I couldn't. The mourning rite had just ended.
The imperial envoy isn't the emperor himself. But he represents him nominally.
That's why Joseon kings always laid on excessive honors. Yeongjo talked big about Shenyang war games but groveled personally when envoys came.
His son's words now fit the same mold.
"The Upper Imperial Envoy must be weary from the road to the elders. Use the Daedong Pavilion as your quarters. It's traditionally the envoy's guesthouse, but I'm embarrassed to have occupied it for my reception."
Of course, the envoy must decline here. From my read of Sin Sukju's integrity playbook, Wang Danmang wasn't clueless enough to miss that.
"Your Great King's grace is too much for me to bear. Though I carry the imperial edict, I'm but a humble subject—how could I overstep? Envoys have always been first received by the Pyeongan Governor, so I'll rightly stay at the modest guesthouse southeast of the governor's compound."
Even if it's theater, the ministers—led by the newly promoted Chief State Councillor Hong Gyehui, still sour from kowtowing to barbarians—didn't soften at the envoy's humility...
Same here. You hate a guy, everything he does annoys you.
Diplomats often must act arrogant by duty, envoys especially. Which makes this all the more suspicious.
As I racked my brain, the king issued another know-it-all decree (to us).
"Kim Unhaeng, Commander of the Fifth Division Army, your military renown must have spread to the mainland. They're probing for weaknesses through you. Kim Unhaeng, host the envoy properly without neglect."
Hong Gyehui and the others, hating the queue-heads, instantly praised the king's wisdom and dumped it all on me. I sighed and headed back to Seonhwa Hall.
I escorted Wang Danmang to the governor's compound, where colorful banners fluttered along the roadside and buildings.
True to the rice-chest king's words, he'd heard of me. Once seated, he spoke first.
"Prince Hong Yeom of Daluo Guo Gong Jun often spoke of Lord Kim. I'm deeply moved to meet you."
"My worthless name precedes me—embarrassing."
Aha. Now I get it.
Wang Danmang was the first envoy in history not to rampage along the Uiju road. No demanding courtesans pronto, no beating locals over skimpy gifts.
This unprecedented behavior threw the Pyeongan governor's office—including me—into chaos. No interest in girls, so eunuch? But then why skip bribes? Eunuchs don't get high posts anyway.
But no such thing as a bribe-free man exists, especially not in China.
Even Governor Park Mun-su took red ginseng. If bribes get refused, it's the quantity or type that sucked—not the bribes themselves.
And this guy blatantly hinted at what he wanted, via Prince Hong Yeom's name.
Unlike the king's forced "military fame" nonsense, I'm a civilian scholar. My forte is arts and letters, not warfare.
I couldn't send a servant for a "Joseon specialty," so I presented it myself. Yulong jade's common in Beijing, so I offered Huai River pervert doujinshi and sadaemohwa figurines.
But Wang Danmang's reaction wasn't what I expected.
"Uh, ahem! Th-that rumor was true too. But that's not my business here—no, hurry and remove those hideous things!"
His neck flushed beet red. Very convincing acting.
"Send them later separately?" Got it. I cleared them away with an apologetic look.
After catching his breath, Wang Danmang summoned an attendant and—surprisingly—set a box before me.
Opening it revealed a poem sheet. But what stole my gaze wasn't the emperor's crappy self-composed verse—it was the piercing gleam of high-purity silver ingots, practically drilling through the paper.
"Silver gift from the emperor. It's disproportionate, so accept without thanks."
The emperor? Why?
But my body was already bowing. Not 'cause I'm pro-Qing—no, pro-precious metals. Refuse and they might invade tomorrow. Pure patriotism.
Swallowing humiliation for my country, I spoke gravely.
"I've shown no loyalty to His Majesty—terrifying."
"Not some rote-loyalty hack reciting 'Heaven sends rain for crops, none demand repayment from Heaven.' The Son of Heaven's grace shines like sun and timely rain. Likewise, the myriad people serve not for silver."
I paved the way for him to get to the point. I could guess.
"My insight was shallow. Trading loyalty for reward suits crass merchants or overseas Western barbarians. Those bandits stirring chaos in some counties grasp no lofty principles."
Mentioning the Jiangnan rebels and European coalition brightened his face. He whispered:
"Exactly the talent His Majesty eyes. His intent shines clearer in the edict."
Sorry, but zero clarity. Lost between hint and explanation, it's some bastard child of official doc and poem. This the lost Korean hip-hop they talk about?
"Weighty state affair, my wisdom too scant to presume Heaven's will—forgive my questions."
Wang Danmang didn't snap. Even he thought the emperor's poetic comms were overkill.
"Per the edict, I'll stay in Joseon till the rebels are quelled. If barbarians like England or Japanese invade, heavenly troops will save you at once."
I know. It turned the court into a hornet's nest—declaring they'd "save" us (from rebel kings) if we misbehaved.
Took forever to calm that. Spit out the rest.
Wang Danmang did.
"But His Majesty knows surveying foreign lands is tough, so he ordered a trusted deputy to stay by my side, relaying closely to avoid misunderstandings. Obey well, and grace flows like rivers, harmony like seasons."
Be Joseon's spy aiding him, get silver rivers.
Ridiculous. You think Kim Unhaeng folds for bribes? Emperor's eye ain't shit.
I feigned awe at imperial grace first.
"Overwhelmed. But me at your side directly? Suspicion everywhere."
"Worried about that too. Got a plan?"
"Of course. I have a scheme."
A perfect candidate popped up the moment I first parsed his words. Chummy with Qing officials and scholars, sharp as hell.
After pocketing the emperor's gift unseen, I wrote a letter to Seoul.
Hong Daeyong, president of the Hanyang Foreigner Association—despite no official post—was swamped.
Lately, he'd roped two priests into his astronomy book project, leaving Hallerstein and Ko Kaisl mortified.
Hanyang buzzed with war vibes even foreigners like them sensed. Fellow Europeans peddled war smarts everywhere amid homesickness, yet this guy was oblivious?
Even post-plot against the crown prince, bad optics lingered for them.
And Hong Daeyong was uncle to the boy who'd crushed Princess Huawan's (rumored) rebellion with her son Jeong Hu-gyeom.
Opposite Beijing, they were now begging his cooperation.
So when Hong got a sudden letter and cursed Kim Chunsik while storming off, the Jesuits savored rare alone time.
Ko Kaisl, who'd built a flock proselytizing via the crown prince, spoke first.
"Brothers report a Christian kingdom risen in southern China. Shall we go?"
The European landings were top military secret, unknown beyond Joseon's elite.
Leak it, and Brits/Russians riot. The Austrian priests agreed on the risk.
Info's value is monopoly. Hallerstein murmured:
"Prester John's legend is ancient history. Puppet regime by the expeditionary force, obviously British-led. Better make Joseon Christian. Crown prince might convert if played right."
Ko Kaisl didn't call it hopeless. No gloom on this breather.
He just nodded.
"Easier to maneuver lately, yeah? Crown prince taking us outside the city walls soon?"
"Yeah. Not excursion or public preaching—technical advisory again."
"Why do Joseon folks always want warships and cannons, ignore God's word?"
"Standard missionary tale. Practical first. That's why we learn tech. This outing's blasting experiments—tied to Kim Chunsik, ex-Joseon army commander, now pushing northern mining."
Blasting's trickier than loading powder in guns.
Needs grasp of explosive momentum, physics, safety—demands expert techies.
Jesuit ignorance? Nonexistent. Ko Kaisl nodded.
"Fine. Where? Southeast?"
"River crossing, I think. What was it..."
Hallerstein furrowed, recalling the unfamiliar toponym.
"Samjeon Ferry, definitely."
Author's Notes
1. Deng Ai climbed the supposedly impregnable Jian'ge to successfully flank and conquer Shu as a Wei general.
2. Early in Yeongjo's reign, when an envoy fell ill, Yeongjo not only sent doctors but declared he'd visit personally. (Kim Unhaeng's 'groveling' is his spin; the envoy politely declined as too much.) Amid post-Gyeongjong instability (soon followed by Yi In-jwa's Rebellion), such shows stabilized the throne.
3. 'Jieun' means unrefined (high-purity) silver for currency, widespread in Ming as high-value ingots—not modern neat bars. See Water Margin for scenes tossing silver lumps for fancy meals.
4. Kim Unhaeng's Pyeongan mining push appeared in Ch. 206, 'Northern Archduke Kim Chunsik' part.
5. Gunpowder advanced with mining as much as military. 17thC Europe centered Hungary/Bohemia; Joseon used 'gwangpo' blasting kits around then.