Chapter 229
Chapter 229
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 229
Chapter Title: Blasphemer and Deceiver (1)
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Regardless of their formal religious affiliations, most modern Koreans harbor a Confucian dragon in their hearts.
You realize this when you hear its roar echoing from the depths of your unconscious upon encountering a scoundrel unfit for society.
The White Lotus Cult is no different. As An Jeongbok put it, having endured alongside the masses for longer than any Chinese dynasty—whose shelf life rarely exceeds three hundred years—the lines between believers and non-believers have grown blurry.
Nor is this unique to the East. As seen in the countless heresies Catholicism eradicated, religion cannot be detached from local communities or tribal societies; the very notion is flawed.
Thus, rulers seeking to eradicate religions have always resorted to the same method.
Fucha Fuheng was no exception.
Instead of investigating to identify the cultists who had fled into cities and villages amid his campaigns shattering White Lotus forces across Shandong, he simply commanded:
"Kill them all."
The Sage Emperor knows His people and will sort them out.
They needed to wrap this up quickly and march south to suppress the Yingkeli barbarians.
Judging that large-scale open warfare with the White Lotus Cult was over, Fucha Fuheng split his massive army of three hundred thousand into dozens of detachments.
He then dispatched them across vast Shandong, unleashing massacres without trials—only death sentences in heretical inquisitions.
Yet the drawback of such extermination campaigns mirrors that of carpet bombing: surprisingly low success rates.
Soldiers assigned to these tasks struggle to execute orders efficiently.
This wasn't some nation united in genocidal fervor like twentieth-century Germany or twenty-first-century Israel. If the Qing's national character boasted such mechanical efficiency, rebellions like the White Lotus uprising never would have happened.
Excluding Fucha Fuheng's personal troops, the rest of the army quickly unraveled once beyond headquarters' control.
Soldiers got stabbed mid-rape (a peril explaining why most animals finish in seconds), took bribes to overlook real cultists, or hunted heads in other villages to pad quotas—only to waste time against unexpected fierce resistance.
Even the personal troops soon grew discontent.
In ancient times, it was overt; in modern, disguised—but armies are rewarded not with money, but war crimes.
It started with officers subtly advising Fucha Fuheng, escalating to entire units deserting for rightful compensation.
Fucha Fuheng's direct troops never suffered defeat anywhere.
Nor did they starve or fall ill.
Yet if that army were one man, its vital energy—per Confucian chastity ideals—would be rapidly depleting.
Screams, flames, and blood flowed far more than before, but true culprits were caught even less than pre-war.
Paradoxically, the White Lotus core could finally catch their breath amid defeat and slaughter.
The campfire shadows draped over the gaunt face of O Samrang, one of the White Lotus Cult's Eighteen Protectors, hiding in a Shandong cave.
She clutched her twin swords.
Weapons are like life and dearer than family to a martial artist, but their cold touch offered her no solace now. What she truly longed to embrace was elsewhere.
And Yang O—another of the Eighteen Protectors and Shandong's top blade master—seemed to think he could substitute.
"Take a look at this."
O Samrang merely lifted her head to glance at Yang O.
She slowly took the paper he held.
She could read, but Yang O spoke loudly for all to hear:
"A government notice. It claims a hundred thousand Goryeo ironclad elite—famed for prowess since ancient times—have entered Shandong by imperial order to exterminate us."
King Yi Hwon, who could only spare ten thousand marines and militia, would rage, "What? Give me back my hundred thousand ironclads!" Continental exaggeration lived up to its name.
But Yang O's point lay elsewhere.
"Right after Maengchan crossed to Joseon begging reinforcements, this happened. Why would dormant Joseon suddenly dispatch such a massive force? They must be confident of merit. Maengchan sold out his comrades."
As murmurs stirred, O Samrang rasped:
"Watch your mouth. Don't spout baseless speculation."
As Kim Unhaeng had thought, the Eighteen Protectors were decentralized, taking no orders from each other. Yang O ignored her warning.
While she despaired, he had signaled his recruited allies to withdraw unseen.
Then he squatted beside her.
"How long will you wait? He's betrayed us. This place could be discovered anytime. Once people get angry, even a beauty like you might suffer before capture. Follow me. With a few experts in light gear, escaping Shandong is easy."
With considerable romantic experience by era standards, O Samrang wasn't flustered. She coldly countered:
"And then? Abandon those who trusted us to die?"
"Can we save them? Maengchan's already—"
Clang! Her sword met Yang O's great blade. Her lightning draw was imperceptibly fast, but he too was an Eighteen Protector.
Flames sparked in O Samrang's eyes.
"If survival was the goal, why rebel? We could've lived easy, fat, pillaging with the officials!"
Unlike O Samrang, obsessed with personal woes, Yang O—managing followers meanwhile— was better fed.
Protein doesn't lie. His weapon's weight advantage let him overpower her.
"You'll not listen willingly. I won't hurt you—just stay tied a bit."
O Samrang gritted her teeth. But her warrior-honed mind signaled imminent defeat.
Her arms bent. Yang O's shifting left foot positioned his right to kick her gut. Three moves—no, two...
Then a thunderous roar echoed from the cave mouth:
"Stop!"
The classic cry yielded classic results.
Seeing Maengchan appear like a lie at the entrance, Yang O panicked and tried disengaging.
But O Samrang's serpentine blade wouldn't release him. His hasty kick sent her tumbling with a choked gasp—but unbalanced him post full-force strike, freezing him for two or three seconds.
Enough for Maengchan.
As O Samrang rose stifling pain, Yang O's throat was already impaled on Maengchan's spear.
No time for joy or greeting.
From the mood, cave dwellers were Yang O's faction. She tried warning lone-seeming Maengchan.
But he showed no fear.
Only coldly scanning hesitant folk:
"Chun-sik the Taoist said only one of his kin remains here. This dullard finally grasps the meaning."
Before O Samrang probed, 'Goryeo ironclads' poured in.
Even Yang O knew their ferocity.
O Samrang conceded now. Horseless, their faces alone commanded respect.
Each exuded dead-end-life aura that'd scatter market thugs. Leading them, Shandong Commander Maengchan ordered in Joseon speech:
"Capture them all!"
White Lotus remnants not following Maengchan—unseen by Kim Unhaeng's 'Hannibal Barca tactics'—fell wholly to the Liberation Brigade.
Maengchan stood before O Samrang, jaw clenched, watching. Some marines muttered if Shandong Commander lusted only for women, but he felt no shame.
O Samrang, ignorant of Joseon tongue, asked anyway:
"What happened? How'd you find this place?"
No lover's warmth from Maengchan. Sternly:
"Solely Kim Chun-sik's guidance. He is resurrection and life; believers live though dead, eternal life for living believers. Worry no more."
O Samrang felt unease. In a way, Maengchan returned worse than betrayed—more deranged.
The 'Goryeo hundred thousand ironclads' White Lotus suppression went roughly thus.
Unlike Qing fumbling everywhere, Kim Unhaeng pinpointed remnants best.
Kim Unhaeng, commanding Joseon forces, met Fucha Fuheng—Gubeikou Commander leading Zhili troops—in ancient Qi city Linzi.
In the command tent, Kim Unhaeng feathered fan in hand, postured grandly:
"How's that, General?"
"Truly astonishing. I prided on Sun Tzu and Three Strategies, yet every spot you marked on the map from mere glance hosted real bandits... One who masters terrain truly sees a thousand li from his seat!"
Fucha Fuheng admired purely. Even Kim Unhaeng's sneer—'A Xiahou Dun wannabe versed in Six Arts and Three Strategies'—seemed mystic strategist smile.
"No boasting. Merely chasing your shattered rebels—how dare compare to heaven-sent valor?"
"His Majesty often mentioned you; now I see Kim Chun-sik's name no empty fame."
Kim Unhaeng wielded tactically-given ability politically.
White Lotus not heeding brainwashed Maengchan were needless to him. As with Yang O, they likely harbored ulterior motives.
He bundled them for Qing, proving loyalty.
Even bandits spared allied state's folk; Joseon petty-thief repute from envoys got reevaluated.
Meanwhile, 'Hannibal Barca ideological checks' passers vanished seaside—unknown to all.
Two reasons:
Survivors far trickier than dead. Pending execution needs watching till then.
Qing overwhelmed by Joseon-delivered masses.
Plus Qing massacres razed Shandong's lijia system and village networks.
Reporting yielded 'Oh, a village there?' then slaughter—who'd be so dumb?
But secrets don't stay forever.
Kim Unhaeng reminded Fucha Fuheng of bigger issues pre-distraction.
Directly? Purpose exposed. So opposite tack:
"Even with provisions, our poor nation buckles under costs—must end quick and return. How not squeeze every wit?"
Fucha aides darkened.
Joseon troops devoured like true hundred thousand.
East Sea glutton legend real? Same species, stomach variance limited; just 'not mine, why ration' humanity at play.
Especially liquor—era essential—guzzled. Unlike Qing sipping tiny cups, Joseon used bowls, never one-and-done.
Liberation Brigade even raided Qing depots drunk for more.
Kim Unhaeng lacked control or will. Lucky Han Zhongliang covered tracks well.
Qing units, bribe-paid and feud-averse, feigned belief in Han's 'White Lotus raids'.
Knowing cadres wished Joseon and cult vanished together. Unbeknownst, their wish granted.
Thus Kim Unhaeng's casual next words stabbed Qing hearts:
"Heard heavenly troops routed Yingkeli in Jiangnan too—so His Majesty's woes end soon; can't contain joy."
Fucha Fuheng startled.
Execs feign success publicly, share realities privately. He knew Yishi Yoru's simultaneous win-loss.
Jinghang Grand Canal second to Forbidden City. Lost, south-of-Yangtze no longer Emperor's.
Provisions shortages mounting.
Not just Joseon eating; three hundred thousand scattered, supply lines exponentially lengthened.
Sun Tzu noted: needs hinge on numbers and lines. Losses, transport consumption, commandeers' graft endless.
Conclusion: move somewhere, fast.
Thus Fucha Fuheng fell for Kim Unhaeng's ploy—thinking it his own genius.
Exactly as desired:
"Jiangnan real fire's not Yingkeli pirates, but Hanjian pretenders claiming Ming with fake Zhu. As long as they persist, traitors sell to foreigners endlessly—be it Yingkeli or elsewhere. Can't leave to Han alone post-win. We Manchus must pacify surely."
Qing viewed mid-China/Jiangnan like Britain India—not quelled by locals alone, Sepoy Mutiny example.
Even true Yishi win demanded Fucha south—why three hundred thousand formed.
Kim Unhaeng agreed readily:
"Indeed. Petty thief-chasing to underlings; your grand strategy outstrips this envoy's grasp."
Of course, Fucha didn't madhand Shandong wholly to Joseon before south (Kim Unhaeng regretted a bit).
He left fifty thousand—fivefold paper Joseon—scattered massacre-duty across Shandong, unsure monitoring needs. Reports-only, unassailable.
European Expeditionary Force alarmed on news.
Sole fluent Chinese interpreter James Flint sleeplessly gathered intel days.
Near collapse, he offered generals hope:
"Enemy's six hundred thousand propaganda exaggerated. Realistically, around two hundred thousand tops."
Rock knight Du Drene snarked:
"Two hundred thousand easier? Thought elephants, turns bulls—relief. Barehanded wrangling viable!"
Du Drene's ire simple: sent-to-die Washington returned alive, yet botched battles fully.
He eyed Washington:
"You, sole victor over Chinese, vowed Hangzhou-Ningbo falls—words, Colonel Washington?"
French-Indian War big-field commanders mostly British imports. Washington, guerrilla/auxiliary specialist, lacked grand strategy.
Fruitless, he went 'just more time/budget' mode:
"Soon over. Two hundred thousand behemoth won't reach quick. We'll seize canals, build defenses, force Emperor to negotiate. Block canals—even horde starves easier, sheer size."
Judgment not 'wrong'.
But not 'right'—ignored superiors strategically passable, but brass winds.
Admiral Henry Porter folded arms:
"Prepare abandon all holdings, withdraw fleet to Formosa."
"What? After sacrifices!"
Porter Virginia dorm 50-point-deduct face.
Losing fleet/troops here voids China win. War for profit, not kills.
Escalating British Expedition core bloodletting delights French/Dutch fools.
Post-Washington aid, Du Drene/David Bullen pushed land Alamo for British screw-over. Not theirs, endless bravado.
Disembarking marines wrong. British pirates fight sea.
To gutted Porter, Robert Clive's panting news tempted:
"Joseon replied on POWs/reinforcements!"
Author's Note
1. Yang O, real White Lotus cadre and Taoist blade master, first appeared in Chapter 207 'Seven Years' War: East Asia Expansion Pack'.
2. Joseons eating much rice is widely known, but debated. Some say rice-only due meat/side lacks; others baseless. Exaggerated vs tiny Japanese, opinions vary. Liquor though—contemporary records confirm heavy drinking.