Chapter 71
Chapter 71
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 71
Chapter Title: Military System Reform (2)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
A while back, King Yeongjo had even tried to appoint me to some lowly position like clerk at the Military Armory.
Fortunately, the wise folks of Mokcheon and Jiksan had voluntarily blocked the county magistrate's farewell procession, earning me a proper reward in the form of a post at the Hongmungwan.
But that didn't mean I had no interest in Joseon's military affairs.
I was deeply invested. As a hero in another world, reforming a pre-modern army was something I had to do at least once.
Just not the kind of reform that makes the military "stronger" for war.
New weapons and such were out of the question from the start. Does upgrading civil servants' computers suddenly make a country boom?
Stuff like general staff offices, mission-type command systems, or that horrific 88mm nonsense from those fascist Duvalant bastards—none of it was needed.
If you lose two games of billiards in a row, you just quit and settle up. I can't fathom why Germans love war so much.
That's all the fascist obsession with using armies for war talking.
The Joseon army's purpose wasn't war, and its design philosophy focused elsewhere entirely.
Who would we even fight? The massacre lord Qianlong, revving up the Junggar genocide? From then on, Joseon would slide into archaeology territory, becoming some "mysterious lost ancient race."
The Joseon army had a mission far more important than savage killing.
Economics.
Without an army right now, Joseon's economy—not defense—would collapse first.
Just like how North Korea can't build a single road or mine without its People's Army.
It's not because Joseon is primitive.
Whether it's the U.S. military stealing oil, the British peddling opium, or the Belgians collecting hands, armies have always been about making money.
Joseon, as a moral state, takes a slightly more humanitarian approach than those barbarians.
That's why the Guard-the-Throne Faction in the late Joseon era kept saying essence matters more than form. Grab the "essence," and the petty stuff like salaries or supplies follows naturally.
So what is that essence?
People.
That's why clerk at the Military Armory and junior administrator at the Ministry of Military Affairs are completely different posts.
The Armory only deals with weapons—the superficial stuff. But the junior administrator at the Ministry holds personnel authority, letting them influence people, the root of the military economy.
As the old saying goes, extraordinary feats require extraordinary people.
That said, the junior administrator's personnel power wasn't that impressive these days.
In the past, the selection clerks from the Ministry of Personnel and Ministry of Military Affairs truly lived up to their name, weighing and deciding all court appointments. But Yeongjo smashed that system.
Claiming factional strife over those powerful posts, about ten years ago he stripped away most of their authority.
It shows just how immense Yeongjo's power was, shattering 200 years of tradition since King Jungjong in an instant.
That's when the Censorate started flattering the king, and historians couldn't even record half the corruption. Before, selection clerks (with their Censorate recommendation power) ruled the roost; now the king did.
Politics driven by scholar-officials' pure discourse was dead. Only the absolute monarch laughed atop the corpses of the Sarim faction.
But I wasn't disappointed.
We'd find a way. Like always.
It wasn't like the old days of enslaving the Censorate or firing prime ministers at will, but becoming a selection clerk was still a must-pass step to premiership.
And while external clout had weakened, internal personnel authority over subordinates remained effectively with the clerks.
For the Ministry of Military Affairs, that meant most military officers below camp commanders.
Lately, I went to my rising star supporter, my older brother Kim Seonhaeng.
Kim Seonhaeng had risen from Right Deputy Minister to Left Deputy Minister. I couldn't guess what tricks this mild-mannered, timid-seeming guy had pulled.
His old post handled the Ministry of Justice, so he'd helped me big time with the Yi Yangje memorial incident.
And he'd do it again. The Left Deputy handled "military" affairs.
He was practically born to help me.
"Then please take good care of that matter."
"Yoon Pildeok topped the selection exams back in the day, and as Gwon county magistrate... well, 'according to your undercover investigation,' he built a solid record. No reason to hesitate. I'll definitely recommend bringing him back from Hunkuk. His Majesty will approve."
Kim Seonhaeng subtly emphasized my undercover bit, hinting at some deal with Yoon Pildeok.
Unfair.
I never planned to fill the central army's backbone with my few military buddies.
It was an insult to my sincerity in trekking to Hamgyong to scout talent for Joseon's army.
To avenge that insult, I whacked him with an expensive Chinese fur hat. Only after that stinging blow did he drop his suspicions.
Once the paperwork passed, I chatted a bit—finishing business and leaving would look like bribery—then casually broached the topic.
"A Southerner from some faction just got a junior secretary post at the Royal Secretariat, right?"
Chae Je-gong.
Unlike my lateral move, he'd jumped four ranks.
Not the type to get mad over that. Subordinate post anyway. And Joseon promotions weren't like Korean civil service, crawling up one rung at a time, so not a big deal.
The problem was what Chae Je-gong was blabbing.
"Yeah. Said he's close to you. Met on your undercover trip?"
Our relationship wasn't bad. I'd sold Chae Je-gong to An Jeong-bok too.
But getting sold like that still stung a bit.
I'd decided to accept Chae into the Kim Unhaeng faction, but as a subordinate, not an equal.
This was serious. Mess up, and instead of him propping me up, I'd be aiding a Southern revival.
Total reversal. Nip it in the bud.
So I decided to give Chae a light check.
I used a classic Korean office tactic.
The complex socio-cultural vibe of "He's really not great, but in this small world, rumors spread and I don't want grudges, so I won't badmouth him"—via expression and tone.
"Secretary Chae is an admirable scholar. But young and inexperienced, he needs guidance from his direct superior—you, brother. Lead him well, like our Great King teaches the Little King."
Kim Seonhaeng paused, getting it.
As a scholar, instead of yelling "scholars can't act like beasts like the king," he nodded.
"I'll keep a close eye."
Knew it. You hate seeing Southerners rise too, so when I nudge, it's perfect, right?
And Chae started visiting me, griping about tough office life over drinks.
No friends in court as a Southerner. Train him as an assistant, and he'll be easy to puppet later.
"No, Chunsik. Hear me out. Is this really right? I brought the major proposal because it outweighed his priorities, but then he blocks it and later gripes I didn't bring something equally urgent on time, recommending severe reprimand? If not for your face, I'd have thrown off my hat and retired right there!"
Don't talk like I'm doing you favors as kin? Gyeongho Southerners trust only you, I've pumped in plenty of cash—you can't betray.
Of course, separately, I warmly patted him.
"The Left Deputy isn't like that usually—must be urgent circumstances or a misunderstanding. Take it slow, forget it. Rough patches on the official road are a dime a dozen. Endure for greater glory."
Offering our house's premium liquor showed my friendship clear enough.
Chae was sharp enough not to need spelling out. He just shed soju-like tears.
"If I make it big later, I'll never forget your kindness, Chunsik."
Of course.
Forget, and you're no human. Bloodline Affinity target.
This 'friendship fee' now? Collect tenfold later.
And the first step of true military reform soon arrived.
Yeongjo officially ordered the Equal Service Agency to enact the Equal Service Regulations.
Debates on equal service laws dated back centuries, and Yeongjo had decreed it long ago.
But endless pilot tests and debates left it adrift—enough to frustrate anyone.
Can't blame him for snapping if ministers push vague policies like "Cut military cloth quotas for popularity, draw up some convoluted replacement plan."
Guys like Park Mun-su keep pulling wise stones for equivalent exchange magic, so Yeongjo thinks it's normal. Damn Norons.
Ministers were annoyed too. Summer heat piled on, making Year 28's reform a misery index nightmare.
Why is equal service law firming military reform?
Told you: In Joseon, economy and military are the same category.
Salt pans and ships? Mostly military-owned. Vast nationwide military farms? Under army control. Even the makeshift Selected Military Cloth levy replacing household quotas? Tied to the Ministry.
All core equal service issues. That's why a Ministry of Military junior like me doubles as Boundary Council clerk, who in turn doubles at the Agency.
You might wonder how one person juggles so much.
You're right. They can't.
Even with Joseon's small government ideal, filling per National Code would collapse it.
So for special projects, high ministers pick temporary clerk teams—personal staff-cum-secretaries.
I pulled strings to slot Hong Daeyong (newly assigned to the Office of Diplomatic Correspondence) as one. No time otherwise.
While rookie official Hong burned out on crushing Ministry work, I promised to return before he turned to ash and crossed the Han.
Regrettably, Gangnam University's An Jeong-bok was in rough shape too.
Always frail, now mental issues stacked on.
He was tearing his hair out over Go Bonghwan's forced memorization drills: exam samples and variants.
"This... this isn't scholarship..."
Muttering nonstop about going back, but nowhere to go—I seemed invisible even to me.
A drink snapped An Jeong-bok awake. I pulled out my ace early.
"You seem drained, so take this to bolster your vital energy."
"I-isn't this ginseng?"
Not calling it bellflower meant he was fully out of it.
"It is. A northern contact brought it as a gift on the way to Seoul. Better for you than a young stud like me."
True. Yoon Pildeok, back at Training Guard as marksman thanks to me, sent extra from Hamgyong as thanks.
That was courtesy; real payback was his unit's exclusive rental deal with my Chunsik Ranch's prime horses. No need to mention.
Hadn't heard An die young.
But not memorizing Silhak scholars' lifespans, I feared my investment withering early. Plus errands.
"Eat ginseng on an empty morning stomach like now. Chew root to leaf slow till it liquifies."
"Now?"
"Yes. Right now."
An chewed it on the spot under my insistence.
Not aspirin—no instant effect. But the bitter tang and scent revived his mind.
Recalling its value, An paled.
"Why give something so precious to me..."
Joseon folks (king aside) know shame—love that.
"You've been bored with just exam prep. Time to enact the statecraft you mentioned last time."
Regulations text was short, but review docs vast—like modern laws.
Remapping unregistered fields and fishery taxes nationwide? Baseline.
Policy proposals? Nightmare.
Why cut or expand which camps? Where skim how many seom of rice? Who pays how much military cloth, basis?
I had data. But linking it into a king-pleasing draft? Problem.
Truth: I suck at Ministry work.
Ever see congressmen Excel? That's aides' job. Congressmen's mission: wield the hammer in plenary to ram results through.
That's why I feed Silhak scholars.
Training orthodoxy for success is endgame, but wasting talents? Shame.
Your Practical Learning—I'll use most practically.
Let's do "righteous utility."
Current Ministry Panseo: Lee Cheon-bo, fresh from Vice Minister.
But Equal Service senior still Geumchungbusa Hong Gye-hui.
Without him steering from start to finish, nothing moved. So he skips work after submitting resignation to the crown prince—no worries.
Fellow senior Jo Yeong-guk consulted Hong first, then reported to king.
Frankly, annoying.
A well-run bureaucracy works regardless of who's sitting.
But Jo seemed Hong's messenger boy.
"Hong Gye-hui says..." or "As Park Mun-su and Hong discussed before, unregistered fields go to..."—after repeats, "Why are you senior?" vibes hit.
Annoyance spread to Hong himself.
Avoiding suspicion verbally, but proxy-reporting felt rude.
Lee Geum—er, Igeum? Wait, Prince of Yixing? Talented ruler's flaw: smart but emotionally swayable.
Now, barely hearing key state matters.
Hong risked crown-prince-level reputation drop.
But Kim Unhaeng saved him again.
Igeum perked at the name midway.
"Who?"
"Ministry junior Kim Unhaeng. His clerk calc on the draft seems overreaching at first, but meticulously done—boldly reporting."
"What'd Kim Unhaeng say?"
Jo puzzled—why repeat? King's age, maybe. He recited again.
Igeum frowned.
"What?"
Face-saving Jo quickly added Kim's arrogance warranted stern rebuke.
But Igeum didn't.
No other rooms had answers. Yeongjo's self-reliance pinnacle, equal service—no clear solution from go.
None.
Halve key revenue, find perfect makeup? Thief logic.
In reality, burdens shifted to locals/army, accelerating Three Tax abuses—one top cause.
Folk praise "virtuous king," curse "vile officials"—Yeongjo's intent.
If genius revenue fix existed, predecessors used it.
Cut spending. Kim Unhaeng's plan leaned there—radical though.
Igeum clung to that hope. Situation desperate.
Politics: intent matters. Hear Kim's full story direct.
"Summon Kim Unhaeng for audience."
Author's Note
1. "Fascist Duvalant" is North Korea's term for Nazi Germany. Lee Cheon-bo here moves from yesterday's footnote's Left State Councillor to Vice Minister in text—same guy.
2. Exam passers first get probationary posts at Office of Diplomatic Correspondence, National Academy, Royal Lecture Office—in that order. Top course was Correspondence for premiership shot. Provincial or low-family? Exam tough, Correspondence impossible dream. Hong Daeyong and Gangnam students got Correspondence slots.
3. Kim Seonhaeng's shift from Right to Left Deputy, Hong skipping so Jo relays his views—historical. But Hong skipped not over memorials, likely offense from policy clashes.
4. Regulations basics set at initial proclamation, but no specifics. By story's summer Year 28, just promulgated—"So where's the makeup cash for cut quotas? How keep local armies?" Answer: "Figure it out yourselves."