Chapter 233
Chapter 233
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 233
Chapter Title: Ah, Chongzhen (3)
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Not in the primordial era, but in the 17th year of the Chongzhen reign, a war broke out between the Heavenly Clan and the Demon Clan.
In that conflict, the Heavenly Clan was defeated, and when malevolent extraterrestrial beings connected neural parasites to all of humanity, corrupting their minds, there was one race that refused to give up resistance even as they overthrew their own king.
They say three years of nursing one's parents through illness makes one a filial son. Yet this nation had enshrined the spirit of a foreign monarch for over 120 years. The more the Jurchens oppressed them, the more they raged, gradually expanding their rites from the Wanli to the Chongzhen era, and even to Hongwu, ever heightening their loyalty.
It was Joseon, a land where stripping away its spirit left nothing but poverty.
This was different from Japan, Burma, Dai Viet, or Nepal. Those nations were too far from the Qing heartland and had no prior ties to the Jurchens. Moreover, their relations with Ming were distant or outright hostile.
But Joseon, ever since King Sejong—the crusher of Japan and Manchuria—had been the guardian of the Eastern reaches of the Son of Heaven. It had always stood at the foremost front of the great Jurchen extermination lines, taking upon itself the blade of annihilation.
It doesn't matter that its descendants' incompetence caused that blade to be folded and reforged nine times until it snapped clean off. What matters is that, unlike Japan, which strutted relying on its seas, or Nepal, which relied on the Himalayas, Joseon faced the core of Qing's military might head-on and never submitted.
Defending something when you're strong isn't loyalty. True loyalty is holding fast while taking the beatings.
Why have the great causes of "Oppose Qing, Restore Ming" continually failed until now?
Because the great cause wasn't on the continent. No "Oppose Qing, Restore Ming" attempted from the continent could ever succeed.
Scholars from the People's Republic of China, which blew away about a millennium's worth of museum acquisitions during the Ten Years' Cultural Revolution, come to Korea to study the Stone Altar Grand Sacrifice at the Confucian shrines to reconstruct lost ancient rites.
When the main server crashes, the backup shelter becomes the new headquarters.
And it was precisely that Joseon now guaranteeing the Second Ming Empire.
In this era where the righteousness of the martial world had burrowed even into the imperial core, the only ones who could vouch for Ming's legitimacy were the Koreans.
"Joseon has come to repay the debt of enfeoffment to Ming!"
That cry, issued by Kim Eungseok and echoed in Chinese by Maengchan, electrified not just the two White Lotus sects but every Chinese around the palace.
Joseon's declaration of repaying the enfeoffment specifically to the Heavenly Lord meant Jupiter was indisputably a descendant of the Hongwu and Chongzhen Emperors.
Because Joseon alone officially performed sacrifices to the Ming emperors.
To a Confucian, inheritance rights are synonymous with sacrificial rites, just as to a Christian, the Pope's coronation signifies the Roman Emperor. Modern people obsess over innate race or DNA, but rational premoderns valued what the person actually did far more.
Moreover, the liberators who had severed their neural parasites alongside Joseon were now savagely attacking Westerners.
This was a gratifying scene that resolved both of the Han Chinese's dilemmas at once.
Did this emperor—who resembled Sun Quan in the face and knew nothing of his roots—truly have legitimacy?
Yes. Joseon guaranteed it.
Even if opposing Qing, was it right to ally with Aliens just because you hated Predators?
No. That's why Joseon was beating them down right now.
All the answers were crystal clear.
Not just the Heaven-Earth Society in Jiangnan or the Brotherhood in Shandong—even Chinese employed by European forces or captured as slaves shed tears.
"Righteousness was across the sea, in Haedong!"
They had to show something here, or the great nation's face would be lost. To Chinese, face matters more than life. Soon, people everywhere began rising up, shouting to smash the foreign devils' heads with great swords.
The name "Joseon" lent an immensely heavy legitimacy to this grand farce about Jupiter.
To add a note, it was heavy as shackles.
He wasn't a Confucian, but the behind-the-scenes Drene grasped the facts from another angle.
"Why attack here, instead of the Heavenly Lord's French main camp, granaries, or powder magazines?"
Of course, Britons and Dutchmen don't attend Catholic Mass. Frankly, aside from Drene himself, there were no major figures here.
Of course, Drene couldn't imagine he'd incurred the wrath of so many Chinese—unless he were Washington.
"They've come to kidnap the Emperor!"
He'd pegged Jupiter as a chew toy discarded by Europeans, so this realization came a bit late.
Seizing the gap, one Heaven-Earth Society agent charged at Drene. Pretending to be a hired errand boy, his dagger draw was razor-sharp.
Being wartime, Drene had attended Mass with his saber, but drawing it would be too slow. He leaped aside to shield the emperor, ignored the priest's dumbfounded face, and snatched a candlestick from the altar.
Then he smashed it into the assassin's head.
Being a Mass for the emperor, the ritual candlestick was large and ornate. Clang! The iron heft surpassing an iron mace, combined with Drene's strength, dropped the assassin like a sack.
Drene immediately hurled the candlestick and drew his sword.
"Draw weapons! Surround the Emperor and priests!"
The French officers at the Mass moved in perfect unison, vaulting pews with swords bared.
In this moment, even the united Confucians raged at the insolence of drawing blades before the emperor without the Nine Enfeoffments' privileges.
"How dare you not withdraw from His Majesty!"
Maengchan, charging at the fore, bit his lip. They couldn't lose the rightful Ming heir that Chun-sik the Daoist had insisted must be saved.
Meanwhile, Drene smirked sharply, sensing his hunch was right. He scanned around and barked quickly.
"Main force is coming soon. Not too many rioters. Surround the Emperor front, back, left, right—no gaps—hold firm."
At that moment, with Washington out intercepting Qing troops, Drene commanded the French army guarding the Heavenly Lord's interior. Five hundred more soldiers would arrive shortly.
The officers ringed Jupiter as ordered. The bulwark formed by Knight of the Rock Wall Drene was ironclad—save for the fact that a child under ten was hostage inside.
But Drene's plan had a fatal flaw.
Front, back, left, right were airtight. Yet he overlooked another direction.
This Jianqing Palace wasn't a European Gothic structure. There were gaps between roof and rafters. From one, a shadow leaped down.
"What...!"
Descending with Sword-and-Man-Unity momentum like a blade, the woman drove her sword tip straight into Drene's shoulder.
Stabbing from above behind the collarbone hits no bone until the pelvis. The terrifying power of her weight drove Osamrang's sword until the crossguard nearly kissed Drene's shoulder before halting.
Drene collapsed without even a scream, like he'd strapped a sword to his back.
With the expedition commander reduced to a scabbard, the officers panicked.
Osamrang didn't miss the opening, thrusting her second sword into another's throat. It was as if Taizu Hongwu's spirit had descended.
Well, just as 21st-century revelations showed Britain's Arthur was female, academia holds that great warrior-kings were all beauties. Recharged with mana from the emotional reunion with Maengchan, arranged by Kim Chunsik, Osamrang's spirit now stood unshaken.
And Maengchan was the same.
"Now!"
Maengchan burst forward faster than his own roar.
The lead French officer swung his saber down. In this era when swords were still weapons, not ornaments, a solid hit could shear off a man's jaw whole.
Yet Chinese spearmanship flows supplely in reverse. Maengchan's thrust—so soft and swift it barely seemed an attack—brushed the saber's tip, blade, and hilt thrice in an instant.
The saber's arc veered. Before the officer could discern the feint from truth, Maengchan's spear pierced his chest.
The Kim Unhaeng Brotherhood raised weapons as one.
"Ooooh!"
"Follow the disciple of Chun-sik the Daoist!"
Momentum surging, the Chinese surged like a tide.
True to European respect for children (Christians), the French officers deemed this blood-and-gore scene educationally disastrous for Jupiter.
Jupiter was indeed mid-hiccup fit, drenched head to toe in blood, on the verge of hysterics. The French swiftly raised both hands, turning the slaughter into an all-ages scene.
Only then did Jeju Manho Kim Eungseok of the Joseon army stroll in leisurely, pocketing the silver candlestick Drene had swung earlier. Barbarians might not know, but this reenacted the beautiful tale of the Wanli Emperor granting a silver ingot box to the war-refugee progenitor.
Then he said in English:
"Waiting for your remaining rabble is futile. Our hundred thousand great army has already entered the harbor—you'll all be captured."
Many British nobles spoke French, but few French nobles spoke English. Amid shock and terror, none understood.
Thus, Kim Eungseok's bluff went undetected.
Of course, landing even a few thousand of Joseon's 30,000-ton fleet would have ended it far quicker.
But sophisticated divided command was beyond this Liberation Vanguard. The South Sea Fleet troops at Tianzhu Harbor merely followed red flags, indiscriminately assaulting nearby British and seizing ships one by one.
Still, it let them wrap up the sea side faster with focus.
Marines spat on hands, gripped ropes, bit daggers in teeth, and leaped ship to ship. Riding smaller vessels than the British, the Joseon Liberation Vanguard were seasoned in sprinting unstable decks.
Mostly barefoot, but sailors' soles transcend primate leather. Trampling barnacles with calluses, the marines sneered at frantically reloading British.
"Idiot, why not drag out an imperial cannon, stuff in grapeshot, chain shot, powder, and your dickhead too!"
That savage jeer held even as one or two fell to shots. Before most muskets primed, the vanguard closed, slashing throats and bellies with daggers, snatching guns.
Not to fire, of course—just needed long clubs spears. Watching the rampaging marines, Captain John Amherst ground his teeth.
"How do they have so many pirates?"
Captain Dudley Digges skipped pointless debates about Britain's pirates outnumbering when counting home waters. He hustled Amherst along.
"To my ship! Small frigates seem off the hit list for now!"
Not so much agreement as no alternative, Amherst followed. Dudley led to his small frigate, Kennington.
From the mast, Han Jung-ryang watched, exhaling tobacco smoke.
"Just as planned. Remaining foes crammed into that little ship. Signal our boarding troops to blast her."
As Dudley first noted, most British guns were unloaded or powder soaked by sea wind.
But a ship-of-the-line's broadside—even one-tenth firing—was plenty. Too many guns.
No one fretted about point-blank blasts wrecking barrels or allied ships.
Wasn't theirs anyway.
Joseon troops, who copied British flintlock matches outright, felt the glee of crash-testing someone else's car as they yanked fuses.
Meanwhile, outside Tianzhu, George Washington had just bloodied the Zhili Army vanguard—20,000 cavalry.
Washington favored defeating in detail. Qing, knowing European capabilities, expected evasion until main force arrived.
Thus, Washington planned luring them to pincers with Tianzhu's holding French.
But the enemy bit the lure too aggressively. No chance to peek and retreat—cavalry charged relentlessly (infantry baiting cavalry had flaws from the start).
Not mere cavalry grain shortage haste.
Don't peg the Qing vanguard leader as the "guaranteed-loser-in-every-war" Wang Xibang stereotype.
Fucha Fuhang entrusted the van to Manchu Double-Hwang Banner elite cavalry captain, Ming Rui of the Guard.
In history's Qing-Burmese War, he led the victory at the Goteyik Gorge—Burma's Twin Spirits analog. Vowing no repeat of Meng Huo, the Southern Barbarian Beast King and Lady Zhu Rong rose—only for this battle to (like Joseon) blast open the highway to the capital.
That war hadn't happened yet, but Ming Rui raged against Western barbarians instead. Washington struggled hard.
Diamond formations and musket volleys were tough counters.
Manpower alone 4:1; mounted, mass difference 30:1+.
Ming Rui commanded deftly: Endangered "mounted-shooting Jurchen cavalry" crossfiring, while medium horse whipped like lashes at the square.
Had Washington fewer guns prepped, it'd collapse fast. Square's artillery-barrages plus infantry shredded the single-arm Qing.
Thankfully, Washington wasn't one to cling to side quests.
After one clash, he decided.
"We've drawn Qing deep enough. Mission accomplished—withdraw. Use final Guan'er'ou line for max bleed, then fleet to Formosa."
As Washington initially urged, the European coalition planned only token land resistance—not die defending Jupiter here.
Tianjin raid glory for British main force's face was plenty. Washington dispatched heralds to Tianzhu during tacit regroup truce.
The herald returned with a familiar face.
Washington felt ill omen.
"Mud Devourer! Weren't you with British fleet? Why here?"
Yi Jaeun smiled at Washington. You're fucked.
"Heard you're pulling troops to fight Qing with Tianzhu folk—so I came specially to stop you."
Ancient envoy tone. Orientals would sense bad news quick; Washington struggled.
"Stop me?"
"Tianzhu's risen—Ming folk fed up with you Heavenly Lord puppets seized it. Return, and you're arrested, gibbeted."
Washington's eyes bulged.
Full arrest/execution of French/Dutch, British fleet remnants crumbled, two frigates sunk—above all, nine ships-of-the-line captured. Washington bellowed.
"Lies!"
Yi Jaeun unflinched at drawn saber.
"What gain from such lie? You Westerners use telescopes—haven't checked Tianzhu? Thin smoke rising."
True. Washington froze.
Like his master, Yi Jaeun unleashed his three-inch tongue.
"Think. Advance: outnumbered by 100k Qing, defeat. Retreat to Tianzhu: crime. Like Ma Chao pinned 'twixt Zhang Lu and Liu Bei at Yangping Pass—unable to go either way. But you've slaughtered/displaced hundreds of thousands in Jiangnan, torched homes/fields—who to blame?"
Then thrust Kim Unhaeng's devil contract.
"Rest easy. As you know, Joseon army arrived timely at harbor—stopped mutual idiot slaughter, brokered eternal peace."
Great Father Washington shone insight.
Joseon's doing!
Too late to voice. Would die.
As Washington mulled silent, Yi Jaeun offered expected terms.
"Surrender all arms to Joseon now, return Tianzhu—no harm. General, pity your far-traveled troops; decide before Jurchen hordes arrive."
Author's Notes
1. "Smash the Jap devils' heads with great swords" was a Chinese army song from the Sino-Japanese War. They actually used large dadao swords in melee, called "Anti-Japanese Greatswords."
2. In real history, when White Lotus was crushed to the end, Osamrang climbed the roof against encircling troops, dual-wielding until death. This scene bases on that.
3. Unlike Goteyik, Twin Spirits wasn't a path-to-capital battle.
4. Ming Rui was indeed Guard captain then, but also concurrently Ili General, so historically in Junggar. He smashed Burma in 1767 after; despite merits, ended in suicide.
5. Romance of the Three Kingdoms' Ma Chao, sent by Zhang Lu against Liu Bei, falls to Zhuge Liang's ploy—stranded, surrenders to Liu Bei.