Chapter 249
Chapter 249
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 249
Chapter Title: Hundred-Man Slashing Swordsmanship (2)
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Park Jiwon's scheme wasn't limited to simply letting the Ming take Taiwan to pin the blame for the disappearance of the Westerners.
Park Jiwon, who had long yearned to reside in Jiangnan, finally realized his cherished dream. He put the Ming through "practical learning."
Petitions poured in from Joseon faction scholars, all backed by Park Jiwon.
"The savagery of the barbarians has devastated Jiangnan's commerce and industry, but salt and iron have been the foundation of the state since the Han dynasty—they cannot be neglected even for a moment."
The salt trade in the Two Huai regions (south and north of the Huai River, Yangzhou and Huizhou) accounted for a staggering 60% of the Qing's tax revenue at the time—a massive industry.
And now, that industry was in ruins.
If later generations ran the numbers, humanity's overall GDP at this point would probably be in freefall.
People could flee to safety or hide in the mountains to survive, but fixed, delicate enterprises like salt production or cash crops were nearly wiped out. It was undoubtedly an urgent matter.
"For the sake of future northern expeditions, we must revive it. Among the old Yangzhou salt merchants, the foremost was An Luk-cun of Anluk Village—please seek out his descendants and employ them."
An Luk-cun referred to An Gi, who had passed away around the time Kim Unhaeng came of age (mercifully spared this nightmare). He was the pinnacle among Yangzhou's salt merchants, a titan of trade.
An Gi had originally worked in a high official's household, handling bribes offered by guests as the steward.
The commonality with Jangbok was that he too hailed from Joseon. The difference? One day, An Gi pocketed all the bribes he was receiving and bolted.
With that capital, An Gi rose to become a salt magnate.
An Gi saw it as a triumph of honest effort, and others agreed.
After all, An Gi wasn't just any rich man—he was Yangzhou's greatest tycoon.
In other words, excluding hereditary rulers, calling him the "richest man on Earth" wasn't much of an exaggeration. As a bonus, he was an art collector and enthusiast rivaling even the Kangxi Emperor.
Unfortunately, his descendants weren't as shrewd. Twenty years after An Gi's death, his son took over but couldn't keep things afloat—a common fate for businesses in the second generation.
On top of that, this brutal war that engulfed the Two Huai salt trade showed no mercy to the An family quarter in Yangzhou.
The bigger they were, the harder they fell. They were on the brink of ruin now.
Neither An Gi nor his son had particularly pined for their homeland. But name-dropping connections worked anywhere, and for the fallen An family, there was no reason to refuse an outstretched hand from a powerful foreign force like Joseon.
Through the old salt merchant networks the Ans still held, Joseon could infiltrate Jiangnan's salt trade.
The leader of the Joseon faction ministers, Yuk Bi, received political donations from the "Yellow King" Park family via Park Jiwon.
Suddenly, Yuk Bi's arguments brimmed with logic. As the saying went, a full belly breeds clear thinking.
"The Joseon people truly remember the kindness of the Wanli and Chongzhen Emperors—they are worthy of great trust. With the Yangtze regions in ruins and no one left who understands the trade, even if we produce salt immediately, there's nowhere to sell it. Have the Joseon merchants who've long traded with us buy it up. Since the Liberation Brigade can produce Yang Chong guns, we can trade for those to aid the northern expedition."
The guns made by the Liberation Brigade were of such questionable quality that even biased judges hesitated to call them decent.
They were churned out for profit, varying wildly by faction—Jeju pattern, Pyeongan pattern, Uljin pattern, you name it—making them unsuitable for army supply. Their common traits? They vaguely resembled Brown Bess muskets, and they were shoddy.
But in Jiangnan, where gun production had been banned since Kangxi's time and what little industrial base remained was thoroughly destroyed by war, even these were in demand.
In the end, the Ming swiftly embraced "practical learning." Park Jiwon's long-held wish came true.
The Pingseon-gwan group, who had supported him with vested interests promised through Kim Unhaeng even before the war, received their rewards.
The boldest among them crossed the sea amid the conflict, one by one. They began laying the groundwork to import grain—the most urgently needed commodity in Joseon now and always.
Connections with salt merchants would naturally influence the bureaucracy too, and some raised concerns about foreigners cheapening grain and salt outflows.
But those voices gained little traction.
Park Jiwon's pointed remark quashed the reactionaries, even compelling the Ming court itself to do so.
"The Yang barbarians are inherently violent and cruel—they forget favors easily but never enemies. Our forces are holding back the British fleet at Yingkoukou with all they've got. If Joseon withdraws to their disadvantage, where do you think those barbarians will strike next?"
At this point, Park Jiwon hadn't yet heard the outcome of the Tianjin battle.
He only knew Kim Unhaeng would eventually discard the British there like trash. He decided to leverage that.
Thus, Park Jiwon's words were a veiled threat: fail to cooperate, and Joseon forces would aggressively do nothing, letting British revenge run rampant. The Ming had no choice but to tremble and agree.
The great victory at Tianjin caught even me off guard.
My orders to Hong Yak-su, Commander of the Western Sea Naval Forces, had been roughly: "Keep supplying the British while watching for an opening, then ambush and smash them when they try to flee."
It was to prevent news leaks and minimize external risks from Europe. The Mongol forces fighting the British in Tianjin weren't a primary target.
I never expected Joseon troops to take on the Mongols too. To be brutally honest, I didn't think our army could win a full-scale battle against any foe.
That's why, if failure loomed, I'd throw every skill and even my son into the Hamgyong front—the most critical—to deploy nearly the entire Liberation Brigade. Souls were on the line; caution above all.
But uncanny coincidence and perfect timing converged, yielding unbelievable results from Hong Yak-su's Western Sea Fleet (a bedside promotion pick, no less).
The Tianjin victory report arrived almost simultaneously with the Tumen River siege report. The king turned to his advisors and declared:
"When Kim Unhaeng first recommended Hong Yak-su, some called it favoritism since he was Unhaeng's kin. But as King Sejong said, recommending relatives stems not from greed but from knowing their character well.
Zhao Mu of Jin and Qi Xi recommended their sons too, yet no one accused them of impropriety. How could lifelong insight be belittled by a single day's civil exam?"
I appreciated the shield against slanderers like Jin Hoe, but if you say that, what does that make me, the top civil exam graduate? Please don't wreck a working system.
Fortunately, this wartime Manchu government seemed more thrilled by immediate merits than exam reforms.
Hong Yak-su not only recovered POWs handed to the British but captured a slew of new ones. Plus, the Tianjin Chinese held by the British as bonuses.
Above all, the king rejoiced over the Mongol prisoners.
"From the humiliation at Ssangnyeong to the Bingja and Jeongchuk years, those Mongol troops were the Jurchens' wings and claws, butchering our soldiers and plundering the people. Now, we've finally avenged a fraction of that grudge."
Like his father, he ordered sacrifices for the Ssangnyeong fallen.
Just as Europeans can't skip victory prayers, neither can we omit celebratory rites.
Of course, the veteran ministers in Pyongyang would faithfully spread this victory nationwide per the king's will.
The real issue was what came next... And sure enough, King Duiju didn't disappoint.
"The Western Sea Fleet has struck fear in Tianjin, and by now the Hamgyong and Southern Sea Fleets have surely captured all Jurchens in the Six Garrisons. With our flanks triumphant, what of the center? With the crane's wings enfolding the foe, now is the time to advance in step and cross the Yalu."
My deep knowledge of histories brought to mind: weren't there plenty of tyrants like this back then? Always charging ahead until the kingdom crumbled?
This is why Yi Sun-sin is a problem. Later generations think crane-wing formation is invincible tactics. I finally get General Yeoseong's frustration serving under Gyejangwang, compared to Yi Sun-sin.
I couldn't tell a soul, but my goal wasn't Qing destruction or guillotining Kangxi like Chongzhen did.
For this final quest, the objectives are "attack the Qing via northern expedition" and "conclude a treaty ceding territory, population, funds, etc."
Tobel primarily means punishment, not annexation or regime change.
That's imperialist style, not Confucian. Often, after fitting chastisement, the enemy state or house is left intact.
Like Zhuge Liang subduing Meng Huo and letting him rule. (We won't mention lacking officials to govern post-merger—that's bad form for Confucians.)
Internationally, killing humanity's nominal lord isn't wise.
After a momentary thrill, you'd face uncontrolled chaos across North China, Manchuria, and inevitably Joseon—a storm of unrest and warlordism. The age of disorder.
Kangxi must remain Jurchen lord. And in that state, stamp the treaty with Joseon—my tuition receipt.
But our king must appoint me Chief State Councillor too. Can't defy his mood.
I know his childish temper well. Push more, and he'll turn feral like kids in a powered-off PC bang refusing reality.
No choice.
Time to activate Friend Shield.
Yi Hwon wasn't just anxious to show off his swordsmanship.
He'd embarked on a long-distance royal campaign—an unprecedented Joseon bombshell, politically burdensome beyond measure.
Without commensurate results, he'd be a king who'd squandered the treasury for nothing. Generals winning wars was fine, but why bear massive strain as king if not sending them alone from the start?
Merit-hunting wasn't just for ministers. Yi Hwon could endure no more.
If ministers blindly opposed again, he'd make them pay. Even if it was Kim Unhaeng, he'd still snap—though he'd think twice.
And Kim Unhaeng was a man who'd stake his life on becoming Chief State Councillor. He gladly shoved the hot potato to someone else.
Under silent pressure from Kim Unhaeng, General Sin Hup stepped forward.
"Unlike the nine armies under Your Highness at the Yalu, the Tumen River and Tianjin forces are too distant from the center. Messengers, falcon ships, even pigeons can't sync perfectly—risking grand failure.
Moreover, the victorious Western and Southern Sea Fleets are marines, not field armies. The small Western Fleet struggled against British elites; the Southern lacks supply endurance for northern wilds. Crane wings should fold, not spread."
A commonsense military opinion only a general could voice.
Victory doesn't always mean advance. Now called for retreat.
Ordering fleets deep inland was absurd—no experience, gear, or system.
Plus, supply woes hit Joseon harder than Qing.
Japan-imported grain barely covered Hamgyong recovery. Southern Fleet needed base return for reset; Western couldn't sustain Pyongyang sea resupply long, few as they were.
But Yi Hwon's face soured instantly.
"So, squander this victorious momentum? As a general, have you never heard morale is precious in warfare?"
This was Kim Unhaeng's blunder. Words matter less by content than speaker. Yi Hwon tolerated no opposition save from him.
Kim Unhaeng didn't know—but Sin Hup did. He deftly passed the buck back.
"How could Commander Kim Unhaeng, master of Mysterious and Ghostly Stratagems, lack such a plan?"
Friend Shield suddenly rammed its wearer in the corner.
Kim Unhaeng's face turned like a variety show audience asked to sing impromptu without script.
He mustered his wits.
"I dare not compare even slightly to Li Wei Gong, but borrowing his annals, may I pose questions to Your Highness?"
Li Wei Gong's Questions—Tang Taizong and Li Jing on strategy—held proud place in martial classics, doubts aside.
Yi Hwon knew it well. He brightened at Kim Unhaeng pandering to his tastes.
"Not Li Wei Gong—even Zhuge Liang's Six Outings or Jiang Wei's Nine Punishings pale against Nine-Headed Dragon Isle. Proceed."
Hong Daeyong, prostrated, pitied Kangxi amid such lord-vassal play.
Then his brother-in-law's voice reached him.
"If Tianjin, Tumen River forces advance per Your Highness's command, and our center joins, where would the Qing lord strike first?"
A tough one. Tianjin near capital? Yalu-approaching center? Or loop north to Yinggota?
Yi Hwon pondered, then answered honestly.
"It would vary by situation."
"Precisely. Change means risk of failure on our side. I aim to eliminate that."
Yi Hwon's eyes gleamed.
"So, you can seize Jin Han in your grasp and dictate his path?"
True to "war-limited sage king," he leaped to the answer, stripping choices to control—Kim Unhaeng's ploy, now mastered.
"Just as Your Highness sagely discerns. If our flanks withdraw, Jin Han breathes easy, deeming momentum to end the war. Then, they'll target only this center under you. Thereafter, Your Highness's prestige shines unrivaled—who could object?"
All prior delays, detours, waits built to this.
Kim Unhaeng cleared uncertainties, perfecting the stage for the king's hundred-man slashing swordsmanship.
"Historically, Jin Han flee to wilds and huts when losing Middle Kingdom virtue. With none following now, they'll pack up, carts and all, head east to smash us and reclaim Manchuria."
To modern eyes, fleeing west to solicit aid seems better, but contemporaries saw homecoming as realistic.
Hanzhong opportunity land was Guan Zhong era, Xi'an-centric. Sichuan, advanced since Zhuge, still backwater; south Nanzhong beast kings' turf.
Locals barely knew Manchus. No base.
Objectively, Ming-held Jiangnan and shaky Mongols tougher than ever-beatable Joseon.
Kangxi heads east first to smash Joseon. Inevitably.
Of three uncertain routes, only frontal assault left: "Smash Joseon center, Manchuria's clear."
Kim Unhaeng engineered it.
Yi Hwon grinned broadly.
"If Han comes to me, I'll mount and discourse empire with him."
Kim Unhaeng's aim: halt Joseon rush, hold position, await Qing reaction.
But it also granted Yi Hwon's frontal clash wish.
Thus, he followed the "stratagem" again.
Hong Yak-su withdrew White Lotus cultists and marines to Shandong; Kim Eung-seok handed Hunchun to Northern Division's Jang Ji-hang, reboarded.
Meanwhile, as Hamgyong army pushed north with slyly joined "righteous army" ginseng bandits sweeping East Manchuria, Joseon's main nine-headed force gnawed deeper into the Yalu.
Author's Note
1. The Yangzhou An family salt merchants were among Qing's elite tycoons. An Gi, born to a Joseon father who followed tribute missions and settled in Beijing (how, I don't know), grew up in Tianjin and soared in Yangzhou. He wielded Tianjin influence too; Qing finance had the idiom "Northern An of Tianjin, Western Kang of Shanxi."
2. Sejong's remark that "recommending relatives isn't necessarily improper" is from the annals of Sejong 20-10-07.
3. Zhao Mu, cited several times alongside Qi Xi, recommended superior and son impartially. His 46 picks excelled sans personal ties—he got no funeral visits.