Chapter 72
Chapter 72
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 72
Chapter Title: Military System Reform (3)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The compensation for losses caused by the Equal Service Levy was called the "supply stipend" at the time.
Various measures were devised to fund this stipend, including the military rice from the Training Command, fortifications, salt taxes, and more.
One of them was the Yeongnam Defense Rice Abolition.
As the name suggests, it was the rice paid in exchange for disbanding the defenses in Gyeongsang Province, the region south of the Sobaek Mountains.
In the 27th year of King Yeongjo's reign, following a proposal from Min Baek-sang—who was then the Governor of Gyeongsang Province and is now a disgraced criminal exiled there—it was decided to "permanently abolish" the seven naval stations in Gyeongsang to secure this funding.
It was such a radical measure that if Admiral Yi Sun-sin had come back to life, he might have turned his cannons toward Joseon itself.
They claimed careful deliberation due to the low risk of Japanese pirate invasions there, but disbanding the navy would skyrocket that area's ranking on the pirates' list of prime targets—a point they conveniently ignored in what amounted to "meta wishful thinking."
Of course, it wasn't complete foolishness without any foundation.
At that time, the west was far more unstable than the stable Tokugawa shogunate to the east.
Chinese illegal fishing boats kept invading the Yellow Sea fisheries (yes, 18th century, not 21st), and unidentified drifters kept washing up on the Honam coast, so more naval forces were needed there.
Whether Min Baek-sang truly considered that is uncertain.
Given how he had submitted a memorial on military rice provisions to Yeongjo, arguing that "not crushing the Soron faction means you admit to killing King Gyeongjong yourself," one could cynically view it as "if you're going to push such half-baked policies, disband the whole damn army."
And Kim Unhaeng was on board with that.
Even more aggressively.
The plan he proposed was shocking enough to stun the court, even with Min Baek-sang's precedent.
Disband at least 37 naval stations across the six provinces combined.
Except for elite core units like the palace guards and separate warriors, dissolve most of the miscellaneous reserves and field armies (in Hamgyeong Province, contrasting with the fortress defenders).
Even overhaul the role of the Border Garrison entirely—their official legal name was changing to "Vile Slave Army," stripping away any pretense of being a proper military force.
Excluding the Border Garrison, it was the ultimate technique of love and peace: wiping out over 60,000 troops in one go.
There were two reasons why Chief State Councillor loyalist Kim Unhaeng was gambling so boldly.
First, past experience showed that routine administrative reports didn't count as "remonstrance" in the system's eyes.
Second, since he was already risking it all to present an unconventional opinion, he was determined to squeeze every last drop of benefit from it.
Just before kneeling, I flicked my eyes around the room in a quick scan.
Sure enough. The chamber was packed tight with auras, no gaps at all. These must be the high officials of the Border Defense Council, the prime ministers, and the senior staff of the Equal Service Bureau.
King Yeongjo addressed me as I prostrated myself.
"Even the abolition of the seven Yeongnam stations faced strong opposition from the magistrates, colonels, and other station commanders at the time. Though unavoidable, I worry that bandits might breach the borders due to this measure—I've barely slept fretting over it."
Since I was face-down, he couldn't see my "this guy's full of crap the second he opens his mouth" expression. Phew. Good thing.
"Yet now you propose not just Yeongnam but ordering the provincial governors across all eight provinces to abolish at least five stations—or more. And per your words, we must halve even the palace guard troops. Is this a sane proposal to make?"
I couldn't hit him with the fact-bomb: "You think having troops there means they'll defend it? During the Japanese and Manchu invasions, did we get breached because there were no troops north and south?"
Not because it'd hurt Yeongjo's feelings—he knew it too.
First, I gave him the wording he'd want me to use in explaining to the ministers.
"To start, abolishing stations in Gyeongsang while sparing others contradicts the 'equal' (均) in Your Majesty's decree on uniformity."
In fact, reports from last year's salt tax collection showed massive disparities in provincial quotas, fueling public discontent.
The crude tax policy of squeezing the maximum without regard for people's circumstances was the problem.
People don't mind paying high taxes. They mind paying more than others.
Yeongjo nodded.
"Well said."
"Moreover, it's only natural that local commanders wouldn't support dissolving their own offices. Most will claim they can't due to the grave responsibilities entrusted by the state. But not all are like that."
"Not all?"
"Local commanders use their troops to boil salt, fish, and reclaim military farms. If we call the nation's land 'the people,' two or three out of ten are on those farms. That's why they say a commander's wealth rivals the Three Dukes. The Ministry of War can't ignore this."
"What concern exactly?"
Do I have to spell it out? This guy's a real jerk.
Hey, what your ancestor did in Hamgyeong Province is exactly that. When soldiers amass wealth and land, don't they become 'Grandfather Taijo'?
I phrased it as obliquely as possible.
"Naval salt taxes and garrison farms exempt their affiliated civilians from taxes, drawing even self-volunteers. When people and land become one man's property, how can we call it the nation's wealth?"
"Then how to make it the nation's?"
Now came the part about the benefits Yeongjo would reap.
"Transfer their rosters to the central Five Armies. Those fit for elite service come to Seoul; others pay good surplus rice. But since there are far more than in Yeongnam, to avoid excess issues, we should create two more camps."
The king's personal guard would expand massively.
No real combat troops, of course, but weakening the provinces makes the center stronger by comparison. And more revenue too.
Yeongjo knew these gains. He probably wanted demobilization already.
Otherwise, why summon me specifically to lend legitimacy?
National defense weakening?
Joseon forces, since that great Swift Lord Choi, rely on "mobile defense."
The era's trend is blitzkrieg. Obsessing over absolute territorial defense forfeits flexible response—unworthy of discussing war.
Even if Hanyang falls, no matter.
As long as the king escapes safely, Joseon always wins in the end.
History proves it.
So my petition for army dieting and mobility maximization was unhesitating.
I'd fine-tuned the logic with Practical Learning master An Jeong-bok beforehand, stripping out his weird Limiting Land Law or whatever mid-farm faction nonsense, boiling it down to essentials. I was confident.
And I slipped in my secondary goal for this demobilization.
"Examining each commoner's situation is the ultimate benevolence of Heaven. Many can't pay military rice or serve as elites in the capital—revive the old system and have them serve as transport troops in their province. Gyeongsang's already been revived, no?"
Yeongjo's policy style in one word: reactionary.
He sought to restore post-wars Joseon to its past glory.
One such was reviving Joseon's logistics slaves, the transport troops, abolished by Sukjong.
Treated as duty-only exemplars with no rights, backlash forced even Sukjong to disband them. But as the Training Command shows, transport benefits couldn't be ignored.
Yeongjo, indifferent to human rights, started with Gyeongsang.
The seven-station abolition was similar evidence of low Japanese threat perception then.
Such changes en masse cause side effects.
So I prepared a pilot region.
"Those transporting goods to court along the Han River rely on Gyeonggang merchants. But their monopolies on boats and crews let them hike rates, bully at inns and ferries—entrusting state affairs to reckless traders is a huge waste. Thus, revive transport troops first in Gyeonggi."
A proposal tailor-made for Yeongjo's heart.
Not just revival.
Gyeonggang merchants sparked free trade on the Han.
But "free trade" isn't all good.
It erodes the market guilds' traditional monopolies. Soon, their gold-decreed privileges would be dog barks.
Bad for Dog-Beating faction entrenched in guilds too.
Reviving Gyeonggi transport troops via demobilization restricts Gyeonggang logistics—incalculable blow.
Samhwangdang's transport ops at Songpa Ferry, led by Chae Isung, get massive spillover benefits.
How does Samhwangdang thrive while Gyeonggang crumbles?
Who redesigns the transport system revived after decades sans Sukjong? Me. Ministry of War Junior Secretary.
Not as good as total absence, but destroying Gyeonggang suffices. Plenty of crumbs to snatch in the gaps.
Yeongjo seemed pleased.
But the ministers weren't. Chief State Councillor Kim Jae-ro stepped up.
"This is misguided. Remove a thorny fence because it pricks fingers? If enacted, border risks become eggs stacked precariously, as Your Majesty warned. Punish overreaching Kim Unhaeng."
I get his backlash—mass demobilization reclaimed as "national property" means king's power surge, saebok's nightmare.
But uncle, you shouldn't say that. Tsk tsk. Should've tipped you off as fellow Noron?
Yeongjo's pent-up fury erupted.
"Didn't you defend Min Baek-sang, first proposer of cuts, as a sage? Kim Unhaeng merely refines the same plan. Differing words on one matter—what's your intent, Prime Minister?"
Like I'd plagiarize exiled Min Baek-sang for nothing?
This lets Yeongjo save Noron face by defending him.
My first official gamble, triple-quadruple safeties. Yeongjo couldn't refuse.
Kim Jae-ro caught on quick, glanced at me, apologized to the king, and withdrew.
Veteran two-time Chief Councillor indeed.
Yeah, uncle gets it now? Rest easy.
King can't strengthen power with this army.
Anyone with brains slips out. Demobilized trudging to Seoul? Mere oxygen-CO2 exchangers.
More such parasites better—they devour central budget.
Weakens provinces, but center doesn't strengthen. No worry unless Soron rebels with locals.
"Useless" as soldiers, not labor. Fit or not, they rotate garrison duty—plenty free time for side gigs.
Samhwangdang and Chun Food Ranch get massive cheap labor pool.
New 6th/7th Camps—with good showmanship—could siphon garrisoned troops for free labor.
But stopping here dilutes my officialdom gamble.
Time for Yeongjo's line.
"Equal service discussion ends. Ministers, withdraw. I have questions for Junior Secretary Kim Unhaeng."
Historians and clerks stayed, of course. No full private audience.
No matter. Modern-era historians are king's ball-ringers long degraded. Clerks' main gig is balls anyway.
With NPCs left, Yeongjo probed slyly.
"Your plan doesn't end here. Even non-War Ministry matters—speak. I've heard enough on cuts. All things have yin-yang, so surely measures to sharply increase revenue too?"
Would've been disaster unprepared.
I thought: minds aligned with Yeongjo?
Then shuddered.
No way. With that psychopath?
Anyway, he was right.
I reported only demobilization and transports. As War Junior Secretary, more on Equal Levy is overreach.
From now: no paper trail reports.
I steadied my breath.
This was core of An Jeong-bok talks.
With a dash of my modern "Westernization."
"If Your Majesty commands, I dare report."
What Kim Unhaeng secretly told King Yi Geum is little known.
Historians and clerks heard, but Yi Geum treated as opinion, issued gag order—and demobilization alone stirred court chaos uncontrollably.
Even Yi Geum couldn't implement all radical proposals at once.
So the openly approved demobilization went first.
Those sensing Kim Unhaeng's shadow weren't Seoulites.
It was his brother Kim Jeokhaeng, burning black-bodied and soul at distant saltpans on the Ming coast.
Blood ties are that mystical.
A month after Kim Unhaeng's audience, Kim Jeokhaeng—huddled like in three-year mourning by the salt kiln hut—lifted his head at unexpected news.
"New people arrived?"
"Yes, Superintendent. Ex-navy guys, they say."
Salt production, be it sun- or boiled-, is labor-intensive.
More hands: welcome.
With Yeongnam's seven stations gone, reallocating naval forced labor? Logical.
But why skip noble/wang clan saltworks for here?
Perplexed, Kim Jeokhaeng went out. A military officer, leading thirty-odd ex-sailors, swaggered seeking the superintendent.
"Is Superintendent Kim Chunbae not here?!"
Chunbae was Kim Jeokhaeng's courtesy name. With brother Chun-sik, it evoked "nurturing growth"—spring saplings shooting up, emulating orphaned scholar Baekchun Kim Wonhaeng's elegant style. Affectionate naming by Andong Kim elders.
"I'm Chunbae. What's up?"
The officer curtly said to work and feed these men here, handing a letter.
"Seoul dispatch. Wouldn't normally relay private, but specially..."
As protagonist's brother, Kim Jeokhaeng caught on, stuffing dried mackerel as postage. Salt and fishing often paired, like the tax name.
"Private" meant family/friend mail—worth it.
But next instant, slight regret.
Sender: brother Kim Unhaeng.
Of course, no "I told king, fiddled docs on Yeongnam disband to send manpower—make salt hard."
Yet seeing brother's name, Kim Jeokhaeng grasped nearly all.
Didn't know how, but brother conned someone (like he does) to divert them.
Money ghost capable of it. Letter had ritual brotherly greetings, plus kindly itemized his debt—with 10% compound interest.
Kim Jeokhaeng knew human decency, no complaints.
Who else lends at that relief-rate but one brother worldwide?
He just sadly crumpled the letter into his bosom.
That very day, fact of new central camps absorbing provincial surplus—Fortified Inner Camp and Fortified Outer Camp—still unknown to Kim Jeokhaeng or any on this Ming coast.
Author's Note
1. The complex debates and trial-errors of Equal Service Levy would fill books. In-story, simplified around military; actually, Joseon's late biggest economic issue entangled grain loans, salt/ship taxes, farms, even coin-military cloth price balance.
Equal Levy reform necessary, but method—stripping provinces to plug center—left locals double-taxing folk.
Center had pretext: provinces lacked authority for salt/ship taxes, farm abuses.
Problem: Joseon from founding assumed provinces self-reliant via such. Stripping needed alternatives; bureau reallocations too meager, no breakthroughs.
They racked brains, but admin level insufficient. Basic "how many cloth short per Equal Levy?" varied by tens of thousands by calc method...
2. Yeongjo did reassign Yeongnam troops to Royal Guard and Royal Navy in Equal Levy history. Seen as stealth central expansion or welfare absorbing surplus.
3. Kim Jeokhaeng's Chunbae is fictional; historical Kim wasn't Kim Yonggyeom's blood son but adopted. Obscure, but son Kim Igang (履鋼) rose to Cheongpung magistrate, known as Gangjae (剛哉) (born 1767, not yet). Wife—protagonist's sister-in-law—daughter of royal Wanrim-gun Yi Suin, unmentioned due to no role.
4. As known, Fortified Camps created late 18th by Jeongjo: elite picked guards, not surplus dumps—at first.