Chapter 226
Chapter 226
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 226
Chapter Title: Liberator (1)
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At this moment, George Washington's momentum in successively capturing the port cities of southeastern China was truly a sight to behold, living up to his nickname of "Village Predator" without shame.
However, no matter how formidable Washington was, he couldn't help but hesitate before the massive army of 120,000 that Four Directions Naval Forces Commander Isiyo had mobilized to defend Hangzhou, Ningbo, and the Shanghai region.
Admiral Henry Potter pinpointed the reason exactly.
"They call it 120,000, but their actual fighting force is lucky if it's half that. And the same goes for us."
Over the past two months, the shape of the British army's front line resembled the crust around the edge of a pie.
And now, that crust had stretched over 120 miles—far too long.
They had advanced along the coast as much as possible to minimize defensive burdens (since the navy could handle that), but even that had its limits. The British had to leave some troops in every captured city, putting them in an even tighter spot than the Qing forces.
Isiyo's position was right on the outer edge of the British offensive's endpoint. It was blatantly obvious they planned to wait until the Europeans overextended like a leg stretched straight out, then smash it and break it.
When Washington first faced this situation, he tried to employ the "family heirloom tactic."
He sent an envoy to Isiyo proposing peace negotiations.
Of course, if the foolish Chinese took the bait, he planned to slaughter them all and then crush the disorganized rabble left leaderless. It was a technique his great-grandfather John Washington had used against the Indians.
Unfortunately, this was already a ploy that had been used centuries earlier by Goryeo's Yun Gwan against the Jurchens.
Isiyo, the Jurchen emperor's grand general, wasn't about to fall for it twice. Besides, from the Qing perspective, the barbarians were the ones over there.
Isiyo showcased the cosmopolitan nature of the multi-ethnic Great Qing Empire.
A Han Chinese himself, he saw through Washington's scheme using Jurchen wisdom, then responded in Mongolian fashion. All that came back was the hair of some poor soldier tied to the envoy's horse tail.
There was some grumbling about needlessly sacrificing a soldier in a remote place where reinforcements were hard to come by. It wasn't enough to shake command authority, but the mocking looks from other nations' generals—especially the French behind them—were all too blatant.
As that humiliation resurfaced in his mind, Washington lifted his teacup to hide his expression, which he imagined must be badly twisted by now.
In that state, Washington spoke.
"By Jupiter Emperor's order, couldn't we gather more troops? If we conscript 50,000 to 60,000 from the occupied territories and throw them at that Chinese (Qing) defensive line, victory might be in sight."
Zhu is read as "Zhu" in Chinese too. So the nickname "Jupiter" isn't language play unique to Korean.
Washington's odd way of referring to the Ming emperor—neither European nor Chinese style—was a pun, if you could call it that. But it was far darker, Anglo-American black humor, more insidious than what Koreans might imagine.
Greek and Roman god names were typically given to black slaves at the time. French chaplains wouldn't have intended it, but the enslaved genius Washington quickly spotted the irony between the imperial city's "Zhu" and the baptismal name "Peter."
But that mockery was the problem.
An emperor ridiculed even by the British wouldn't be accepted by the far more educated people of Jiangnan.
Aside from the Heaven and Earth Society cooperating through gritted teeth, the "Great Ming State's" forces weren't expanding as rapidly as hoped.
Admiral Henry Potter smacked his lips.
"No good. The Chinese aren't cooperating voluntarily as expected. Gathering that many is an issue, and even if we do, we lack the administrative power to control them."
"I just can't figure out why. We've given the native Chinese the emperor they wanted, haven't we? If it's because he's not of noble blood, wasn't the previous founding emperor (Zhu Yuanzhang) a commoner too? Could the French be up to some sabotage?"
"Who knows. But no need to worry too much. Even the dumbest natives will flock to our side once they see us smash the Chinese army at Ningbo right in front of them."
"That's exactly why we need to bolster the Quanzhou government's (Great Ming State's) authority—to achieve that smash. What a chicken-or-egg situation."
From situational awareness to root cause analysis to solutions, nothing was on point—a total mess.
As the two sank into "rational anguish," a representative of the nation of reason jumped in.
"Colonel Clive? What's up?"
Expeditionary force diplomat Robert Clive spread his arms wide with the confidence unique to bearers of good news.
"We've finally heard back from Joseon!"
Kim Unhaeng had ignored contacts via Japan, even "processing shipwrecks" for British ships sent directly to Joseon in impatience. Now he had finally replied.
The response came via Park Jiwon, the Jeju magistrate who had ghostwritten the declaration of war and returned. It then went through broker Kim Man-deok and the Heaven and Earth Society on a grand adventure before reaching the British.
Admiral Henry Potter took the letter, baffled by the script that looked like a magic spell.
"Joseon script?"
"It's English. Probably to prevent leaks, but written in Russian cursive, making it harder to decipher than Egyptian hieroglyphs."
Washington, his hopes ignited, eagerly asked.
"So, Joseon agrees to help? According to the Dutch, Joseon has enough naval power to detain every European fleet nearby. That'd be a huge boost."
But Clive looked at Washington with pity.
"Joseon has no reason to help us. We have nothing to offer them. If anything, we're the ones with hostages giving them leverage."
"What are you talking about? If we crush China, won't Joseon be free from subjugation to the Chinese emperor?"
"I'm glad I can inform you that your thinking aligns perfectly with the Joseon mindset."
With British-style sarcasm twisting Washington's face, Clive relayed the letter's contents.
"Just like you said, Colonel Washington, Joseon states: 'If the British can reach a Chinese port sufficiently close to Joseon, Joseon will deploy ships to deliver the British prisoners.'"
"Why can't we go to Joseon and pick them up ourselves?"
"Looks like you don't get it. From Joseon's view, that'd mean jumping into the war on Europe's side without collateral. Joseon is demanding that the European expeditionary force defeat China and clarify maritime dominance between China and Joseon."
Unable to stomach the repeated fool treatment, Washington slammed down his teacup—roughly, but carefully enough not to crack the plundered Chinese porcelain. Some tea spilled, but there was plenty here, so no big loss.
"So the grand achievement we've brought is to play by the barbarians' rules? Let me be clear: even the Indians wouldn't fall for a ploy like this..."
"Enough with the Indian war stories—you sound like a street thug bragging about orchard raids. Listen, I fought in the far grander Carnatic Wars. Know why I don't boast like you? Because the French from back then are right here beside us! Why can't you see your reckless talk keeps creating needless rifts? You thoughtless Virginia hick!"
Washington nearly threw down his gauntlet. If Colonel Clive hadn't immediately turned to his superior, Admiral Henry Potter, he surely would have.
"Admiral Potter. Isn't your combat troops' mission to crush China anyway? I've just provided a way to rack up extra merit on what you were going to do regardless. I trust the commanding admiral's judgment will be fair."
Admiral Henry Potter nodded coldly.
"You're right."
But his judgment was indeed fair.
"We'll have to conscript Chinese as Colonel Washington first proposed."
Washington wasn't about to play the fool a third time. He spoke cautiously.
"Even if it strains our administration? Shall we send an envoy to Quanzhou's Jupiter Emperor?"
"No."
If realistic means fail, use magic. Henry Potter slung his baton over his shoulder like a wizard's wand.
"Dump all the opium we brought from India. Round up every addict swarming this southern region. Give them the drug, and they'll charge into the front lines without hesitation, even under hails of bullets."
No one objected. Everyone present was British.
Washington steeled his resolve and stood.
With enough bullet sponges, his Virginia "Riflemen Regiment" could shine. They were the continent's pride, sharpshooters who hit targets at 200 yards.
Emperor Qianlong had long been fed up with his incompetent, corrupt ministers.
So lately, he rarely met his grand secretaries. He only received his trusted favorites in the secret inner palace throne room.
The prime example was, of course, the young Heshen. Qianlong questioned him.
"What of the troops from the four provinces dispatched to subdue the English barbarians?"
Heshen bowed politely and replied.
"Your Majesty's valiant soldiers, bearing your edict, advance along the four routes. Soon, we shall proclaim a triumphant victory report to all under Heaven."
It might sound like Heshen's superpower—"the ability to deliver desired reports"—making him seem like a sycophant, but that's a misunderstanding.
Monopolizing tasks, filtering appropriately, and sparing superiors needless worries is the purpose of bureaucracy and the hallmark of a capable middle manager. All great ministers in history had this skill.
So Qianlong was pleased. Words on paper indeed. You have to pick people by their faces.
The beautiful youth Heshen sighed quietly once out of sight.
He hadn't dared lie in the imperial presence. But strictly speaking, the victory report talk was more wishful thinking than fact.
Min Jie's 120,000 "anvil" seemed to be holding (per reports) under Isiyo.
But the emperor's personally ordered four-province "hammer" was unmistakably turning into a toy mallet.
The 300,000-strong army pacifying Shandong didn't materialize from thin air. Without the funds ruthlessly funneled to the center via Heshen, it couldn't be sustained—meaning local finances were now in ruins.
Of course, those scraps had gone to Hongqi's army. But whether Hongqi would actively meet demands was secondary; anyone could see they couldn't be maintained long-term.
Should he split the capital garrison and send parts south to clash with the British?
Absurd. If the Shandong rebels then set foot in the capital region, who would take responsibility for the emperor's displeasure?
Heshen pressed his forehead against the oncoming headache. Too harsh a burden for a boy not yet twenty.
But as boys that age often do, a good friend solved his worry for him.
Rifling through reports, Heshen nearly jumped from his seat at the good news from his friend Wang Danmang.
"Joseon is sending ships!"
Joseon had been abjectly servile, rivaling even King Injo.
Offering Jeju as a staging ground for conquest relays, reporting the White Lotus Rebellion (albeit late), withdrawing troops the moment an envoy arrived—truly a nation ruled by pro-Qing powerbroker Kim Unhaeng.
Even the Qing couldn't demand troops from them.
Not out of shame for the Jurchens, but because if even Joseon abandoned them, the world would turn against Qing.
Of course, Qing wouldn't lose to the world, but cracking Emperor Qianlong's ideology of ruling humanity was intolerable.
Heshen scrutinized Wang Danmang's letter again.
Unmistakably his friend's handwriting. The content was a report only a corrupt official like Wang Danmang could write.
Wang boasted that after his "tutelage" of Joseon—like Seqje treating King Hyojong—Joseon promised a "voluntary dispatch" to Shandong to apologize for the late prior report.
Less Su Qin and Zhang Yi possessing Wang, more Joseon scared of the 300,000 army—but Wang's naive brag had unexpected plausibility. Heshen himself might have tried such pressure in this situation.
Heshen rose with a lighter heart.
Now he could split some capital garrison troops to suppress the English pirates. The four provinces' crumbling "hammer" would become a non-issue from the start.
No need to report such minor patches. Lowly officials should handle that without bothering His Majesty.
Neither Heshen nor Qianlong were fools.
They didn't suspect Joseon because, regardless of true intentions, Joseon physically couldn't invade Qing.
Manchuria was sealed by the Three Great Generals, and even if Joseon went mad for a massive landing, Shandong (per Xu Mingying) was a warzone with 300,000 troops rampaging.
Liaodong in between was even less worth mentioning. No fool in Joseon would risk sea transport to land in unknown Liaodong. Better to cross the Yalu and punch through the Eastern Eight Garrisons.
Of course, that's what Wang Danmang thought.
Until yesterday.
"Puhaa!"
In a secret spot in Pyongyang Castle, something was yanked from a large wooden tub of water by a brutish hand.
It was a human face. Fortunately still attached to a body, allowing ragged breaths.
Grand Commander of the Eight Provinces and Supreme Commander of Joseon Forces Kim Unhaeng laughed behind his fan.
"With that long ponytail on your head, it was all too easy. Eoji, isn't it comfortable for you too?"
"Yes. Like a... water bucket."
"Exactly! Just like a water bucket. You're so clever."
"Hehe."
Wang Danmang, ponytail gripped by Eoji, wanted to join the jovial mood. Dripping wet, the Great Qing envoy forced a fawning smile.
"I... I wrote exactly as you asked. I won't breathe a word of this, and I'll keep my men's mouths shut too..."
"It seems the envoy doesn't know yet."
Kim Unhaeng snapped his fan shut. Then he bowed at the waist to Wang Danmang.
"Since this unworthy one took charge of national duties, not a single foreigner has left this land without my permission."
Kim Unhaeng's ironclad seclusion declaration sent shivers to Wang Danmang's nerve endings.
At Kim Unhaeng's gesture, Eoji hoisted Wang bodily and dunked him back in the tub.
In Wang's terrified eyes loomed a device stacked with iron plates. Hong Daeyong—whom he'd thought a true friend—whistled as he tinkered with it.
The improved Chun-sik Armor MK2, refined by his son Kim I-hwan, sparked with even fiercer current.
The private funds (Pyongan Governor's warehouse stores) I'd sunk into Wang Danmang so far were incalculable.
All had to be recouped. Most he'd shipped back while playing governor here, so not material wealth.
Equivalent information.
Dunking wires in the tub, Wang spilled intel on Beijing's key figures and military deployments like a fountain.
Not inhumane torture. Just electrotherapy bath. Even Margaret Thatcher, UK's top leader from a scientifically advanced modern nation, enjoyed it for health and beauty—so fitting treatment for a Great Qing envoy.
Emperor Qianlong erred by sending a "resident" on whims without proper modern diplomatic experience.
Without multi-layered encrypted oversight, you can't fully trust an envoy's reports when he doesn't return.
Otherwise, guys like me hack the terminal. Like now.
A few questions revealed security at the level of a local drug pusher: "scheduled reports" and "simple codes/signals."
Qing's Joseon diplomacy was now mine to command.
Who knew a world without phones could be this convenient? If anyone invents the telegraph here, I'll erase them.
Of course, I monopolize the info.
So after deciding to detain the envoy, I formed an interrogation room—South Yeongdong Great Torture Chamber... no, National Security Ministry cell in Pyongyang—using only Hong Daeyong, Eoji, and Jangbok, no Royal Secret Police.
"Leave the rest to you, brother. Grind your bones to dust, and the next declaration of war will surely include your name."
Hong Daeyong nodded resolutely.
"Not befitting a scholar, but for the country, no choice."
Leaving Wang's screams behind in the Security Ministry, I met my next guest.
Meng Chan, who after disastrous routs in Shandong had come begging Joseon for aid.
Lucky timing. If he'd arrived before I issued the declaration, the tub would have held him instead of the envoy.
I gave him a warm, benevolent smile.
"Have you given it thought?"
Meng Chan, still not grasping his place, bit his lip and replied.
"Then our brothers are guaranteed to live?"
"Of course. Didn't I show you the truth of water-fire immunity back then? The enlightened lie not."
I whispered to him.
"As long as you swear to become Joseon troops and keep it, I will surely save you all."
Author's Note
1. Yun Gwan of Goryeo, famed for the Nine Fortresses of the Northeast, invited Jurchen chieftains to a feast under pretense of peace, then slaughtered them all. Goryeo and the Jurchens had ongoing skirmishes before, but Goryeo's results were poor, so they resorted to trickery. As a one-use skill, after building the nine fortresses, they had no follow-up and lost them back.
This "(luring native leaders—who often rely more on exceptional individuals than systems—under false pretenses, assassinating them, then steamrolling)" was a tactic every so-called "civilized nation" tried. Washington's family example in the story, and the Dutch poisoning threatening Indonesian independence leaders under negotiation pretext.
2. At the time, Europeans deliberately named black slaves after Roman gods or emperors. For mockery, of course. In the story, Jupiter as example: Jupiter, the slave (technically freed, but "voluntarily" serving) in Edgar Allan Poe's [The Gold-Bug], owned by Legrand.
3. Throwing down a gauntlet means challenging to a duel. As you know, duels were a common dispute resolution in Europe until the 20th century.
4. Per a 1989 [Vanity Fair] report, Margaret Thatcher received "treatment only the world's most influential women get" from an Indian woman for health and beauty. Soaking in water with 0.3 amp current. Cost over 600 pounds at the time.
5. Zhuge Liang's declarations: pre- and post-. The commonly quoted "qu guo jin chui sai hou hui" is from the post-declaration.