Chapter 225
Chapter 225
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 225
Chapter Title: Declaration of Expedition (2)
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BC and AD—these terms were used in Joseon even before the Gregorian calendar arrived.
Of course, the pinnacle of records [紀元] couldn't possibly refer to some Jewish king.
In Joseon, only one monarch qualified for such a title.
In the third year of the Chongzhen era after the Imperial Ming [皇明崇禎紀元後三乙酉年, 1765], on the fifteenth day of the third month, Kim Unhaeng entered the Daedong Pavilion, holding a rolled scroll of white silk propped up.
This was no secret private audience like usual.
At Kim Unhaeng's request to Left Minister Hong Gyehui—who was old enough to be his uncle—this Pyongyang-based Northern Expedition Task Force had been assembled, with the king's left and right seated prominently.
More than half were high officials outranking Kim Unhaeng in grade.
Yet the assembled ministers said nothing beyond confirming the king's presence according to standard court procedure, simply waiting for Kim Unhaeng.
The star of this gathering was unmistakably Kim Unhaeng.
King Yi Hwon seemed to think the same.
Taking the silk from Kim Unhaeng, Yi Hwon unrolled it without hesitation. This was the polar opposite of Yeongjo, who had been so shocked by Kim Yakhaeng's petition that he'd canceled all submissions that day.
Yi Hwon handed the memorial neither to the Royal Scribe nor the Historian. Instead, he proclaimed it himself in a resounding voice with his own jade tone.
Nothing could be more explicit: Kim Unhaeng's will was the king's will.
Bloodline obligations fall to those who inherit the bloodline. That was Joseon.
By declaring the Northern Expedition as the true legitimacy of the Joseon king, Kim Unhaeng had placed Yi Hwon's throne on bedrock.
No one could proclaim a fiercer will for the North than Yi Hwon, who had gloriously toppled the Samjeondo Stele. You couldn't rebuild a nonexistent monument to smash it again.
And five generations? That was plenty "traditional."
Over 120 years of accumulated grudges had framed even Joseon's militarization and trade-state shift not as "reform," but as "tradition."
The "progressive sage kings" moderns know were mostly hailed as such even in premodern times. Creating new institutions or pioneering ventures wasn't dismissed as "recent."
The Book of Documents, this era's statecraft manual, balanced progressive and conservative views: preserve the good from old governance, thoughtfully adapt the unfit.
No one dared say, "Wait, when did Kim Unhaeng master history and classics like that?"
He hadn't even summoned anyone who might question it to Pyongyang. And with the king's voice trembling with emotion at every phrase, no one wanted to shatter the mood and end up like the Samjeondo Stele.
Above all, they believed. For those who'd followed Kim Unhaeng to this point—the Chundangdae (and its satellite parties)—he'd surely insert this endorsement ad:
The ad for Kim Unhaeng's network of ministers continued for a while.
Nothing to be ashamed of. Embedding one's faction in a direct royal petition to warn rivals and prepare for long absence was an ancient tactic even Zhuge Liang used.
And Yi Hwon, who'd read more declarations than anyone here, fell right for it. That's why Kim Unhaeng insisted on Zhuge Liang's format despite Park Jiwon's protests.
Yi Hwon now saw Hong Bonghan and Park Jiwon as Bi and Dongyun, Han Jungnyang and Kim Seong-eung as generals like Sangchong. No room for petty tyrants like Huang He in his court.
Thus, Yi Hwon's voice reading the finale roared like a tidal wave.
Yi Hwon slammed the memorial down with tear-streaked momentum.
Then bellowed:
"Promote Pyeongan Governor and Military Commander Kim Unhaeng to Jeong 2-pum Grand Marshal of the Eight Provinces, additionally granting him the duties of Supreme Commander of Joseon Forces!"
Prostrated, Kim Unhaeng closed one eye.
Zoom Out: Extreme Scale Reduction
⚡ Northern Limit:Four Garrisons & Six Commands🗺️ Southern Limit:Jeju → Ryukyu → Kyushu(Liberation Detachment earning steadily)
Multiple markers flashing brightly
Kim Unhaeng, busy pulling and pushing the map inside his closed eyelid, had no chance to say more than "Your grace overwhelms this servant."
As the veteran ministers nodded at the young man's humility, the king wiped his tears. Right Minister Seo Myeong-eung seized the pause:
"Only now do I grasp the saying: 'One who reads the declaration without tears is no loyal subject.'"
Yi Hwon couldn't formally accept it as emperor. Kim Unhaeng's was nominally just a memorial. Seo knew that.
But pointing it out was as foolish as job-exam buddies asking "No studying today?" after bar-hopping into a motel.
Here, ride the mood. Only then could Noron be checked in this national mega-project. Seo Myeong-eung, unmentioned in Kim's ad, smoothly inserted his popup:
"The tens of thousands amassed at Samhwa County await only the royal edict. Seize the so-called envoy and execute him at once, then issue the northbound command to the army."
Had envoy Wang Dan-myeong—boating on the Daedong with Hong Daeyong—heard, he'd have toppled into the water in shock.
But the king shook his head, defying expectations.
"No. The Right Minister's zeal pleases me greatly, but we advance not north."
Now wasn't the time to charge. Time to unveil the grand Qing operation plan, known only to Kim Unhaeng, the king, and a few generals.
Some ministers had caught on.
Given the costs and chaos of army movements, pulling the Northern Expedition from standby just to fool the envoy was too inefficient.
Likewise assembling the Liberation Detachment in Hwanghae and Pyeongan against Qing—where it'd be least useful. It painted one undeniable picture.
A landing across the Yellow Sea.
Seo Myeong-eung shot Kim Unhaeng a Won Gyun stare.
Understandably. Landings bordered on fantasy—even in the 21st century.
Joseon's long history boasted one success: the Lord of Terror. And even Shandong or Liaodong were farther than Tsushima.
Sure, Qing crossed farther to conquer Kyushu.
But America winning a two-front war doesn't make it advisable.
Even then, humanity's master compromised with Joseon, using Jeju as a waystation. Landings were that tough.
The king permitting debate, Seo aired opposition:
"Even with full treasuries and ample donations, sustaining supplies across the sea is untenable."
Kim Unhaeng stepping in would've been awkward. Left Minister Hong Gyehui blocked instead:
"Aren't Englanders landing tens of thousands south, tormenting the people? Even old wokou raided China routinely from farther Japan."
"Those two barbarian hordes are bandits at root, not states. Even Southerners' English histories say the Nordic pirate chief [Norman Duke 'Bastard' William] seized the isle outright. How can banditry equal warfare? Robbing a castle is easy; assaulting and taking it..."
Seo trailed off, catching Hong Gyehui's subtle glance.
You know those Liberation gifts you enjoyed came from them, right?
Right. Joseon's navy were pirates.
Nearly admitting it, Seo hurriedly pivoted:
"B-but Shandong hosts the emperor's 300,000. Sea-weary and outnumbered, how to face them?"
Only then did Kim Unhaeng raise his head.
"As expected of the wise Right Minister—such profound insight."
All ministers shivered. Kim Unhaeng and the king wore identical expressions.
"Jin Han must think the same."
Seo gaped around blankly. The slur equating his head to Jurchen wits was baffling.
Anyway, Joseon folk didn't see themselves as pirates.
That was English, Japanese, Jurchen behavior. Joseon merely sold morals to this end-of-century world and collected payment.
But that required scholarly proof of full rites and culture in the East Sea.
And lately, "numbers" proved it rigorously.
Western geometry trended, but tongue-and-lip coliseums won "fastest."
Post-Samjeondo blast, feverish Seoul debated legitimacy—even dogs barked it—like newsboard comments.
Hyper-urgent, high turnover. No one heeded slow abstract brainfarts.
Leading was ginseng magnate An Jeongbok.
"Right. Pre-Han Zhongyuan? Savage wilds where daughters-in-law ate fathers-in-law, dads boiled kids. Skip it. From then: Guangwudi's Han ancestry dubious, so Chang'an/Luoyang Hans [Former/Later] count separate. No Zhongyuan dynasty lasts 300+ years?"
None. Surrounding scholars nodded.
An pressed passionately:
"But Joseon? Over 370 already. 'Virtuous states flourish, vicious perish' needs no proof anew. Where lies Heaven's Mandate? Like food: clean cool poison lasts a year; filthy steamy soup sours in hours."
Bean paste in soy, fish in salt, meat under eaves—for longevity.
Heaven's Mandate belonged in Joseon.
Zhongyuan? They'd refuse it. Morals spoiled there fast—an polluted zone, per their own histories.
Ideal excuse for a militarily incapable Joseon regime, dissolving post-North anxieties.
Joseon was "alien" from Zhongyuan eyes. Aliens fretted Sinicization, resisting variously.
But An's moral-expiry thesis meant no shrimp-wave peril. Just take ginseng and goods. Manchuria's sparse pop fit perfectly.
Then, An's Western botanist pal Daniel Solander [ginseng expert] rushed in panting.
"Wh-where's the king now? Hasn't returned?"
"No, His Majesty remains in Pyongyang."
Solander paled further.
"Th-then who's rounding up every European in sight? If rioters, suppress them quick!"
Military registrar An Jeongbok reeled. He dashed to superior kinsman, Military Vice-Minister Chae Je-gong.
Westerners underpinned Southerners' brand split. Sudden attacks on them hit Southerners.
But Chae Je-gong, who surely knew, just wryly smiled.
"Kim Chunsik's orders. Royal edict."
"Royal edict? Barbarians or not, fighting Jurchens is same grind. Doesn't that fool know 'use the enemy to fight the enemy'?"
"Watch it—he's Supreme Commander now. And Kim Chunsik isn't killing them. Wants to ally, like you said."
"Pardon? Sounds crazier by the minute. How ally while rounding them up?"
"Not all got nabbed."
Europeans had guts too—not all cooperated eagerly.
More raged at servant treatment in savage lands, griped, tried escapes or riots.
Overt acts? Punishable. Grumbling alone? Tough.
But Joseon's moralist justice tracked the surly habitually—now sweeping them up.
Conversely, those cozy with high officials or agencies walked free. Networks and social skills mattered.
"So this herbalist could come to me."
"Yep. Now calm the Europeans before they panic. Nabbed ones won't die."
"Not die—then where to?"
Chae didn't hide his own disbelief:
"Release 'em."
Genius An grasped it then.
Don't ask where released.
That was Kim Chunsik's scheme core.