Chapter 199

Oh Yung-gyeom, selected as the Chief Envoy for this diplomatic mission, was a member of the Westerners faction. Throughout his career, he had opposed the deposition of the Queen Mother, associated with the Southerners, and remained in constant friction with the ruling Great Northerners. In the political climate of Gwanghaegun’s reign, this effectively meant he was destined for a life of grueling, thankless labor—the pinnacle of which was the Tongsinsa mission to Japan.

In an era of rudimentary navigation, setting out to sea from Joseon was practically synonymous with preparing for death. Oh Yung-gyeom had already nearly perished twice during previous missions to Japan and as an envoy to the Ming Dynasty. This voyage was no different. As he desperately navigated the treacherous waves, a single thought consumed him: I must survive at all costs!

The Westerners had been all but uprooted from the court, and the Southerners, with whom he shared close ties, were in no better state. As the most senior figure left among them, Oh Yung-gyeom had to persevere for the sake of his faction and his family. Yet, something was amiss with the younger generation of scholars accompanying him.

“Lord Deputy! The court has united in its resolve to save the followers of the Heavenly Learning,” one young scholar exclaimed, his eyes shining with fervor. “Is this not a beautiful manifestation of righteousness?”

“Is… that so?” Oh Yung-gyeom replied cautiously.

“But of course! The sublime words left by the saints are on the verge of extinction in the land of Japan!”

Oh Yung-gyeom rubbed his temples. Are these ‘sages’ truly the ones I know? This was the direct result of Oitotan’s concentrated efforts to proselytize the literati. While the Unnamed Church’s mission among the commoners proceeded in its usual fashion, Oitotan had paid special attention to the nobility. He had launched an “aggressive” campaign to win over the Westerners and Southerners—those who would eventually side with the Continental Covenant for their own political survival. He moved quickly to co-opt any who might have initially protested, fearing they might later turn the Covenant and Christianity into public enemies for the sake of their own political resurrection.

Though Oh Yung-gyeom was unaware of the specific machinations, he noted with despair that the rumors of the “Heavenly Learning” spreading in the capital had culminated in the total “occupation” of his subordinates. He was certain of it now: the Westerners were finished. Perhaps the Southerners as well.

He should have realized something was afoot when several “literati” from the Continental Covenant were included in the mission. If even a single thing went wrong here, they would all be slaughtered. If he allowed these Christian followers to cause trouble in Japan, where the religion was banned, the consequences would be lethal.

If these factionalists spread strange doctrines during the mission… ‘Behead Oh Yung-gyeom!’

On the other hand, if he failed to secure the safety of the Japanese Christians as the Continental Covenant requested because he was too busy trying to control his men…

‘The leader of the Westerners, who once opposed the deposition of the Queen Mother, has finally ruined our diplomacy with the Covenant… Behead Oh Yung-gyeom!’

A hellish dilemma danced before his eyes, sending beads of cold sweat down his brow. This must succeed. He had to fulfill the Covenant’s request without souring relations with Japan. He hurriedly consulted with the Covenant “scholars” he had brought along.

“So, what is your plan?” he asked, unable to hide his anxiety. “Do you intend to overturn the ban that prevents them from believing in the Jesus Sect?”

“Not at all,” one replied calmly. “They are currently disturbing the nation like the Yellow Turban rebels of old. How could we possibly stop the Shogunate from preventing that?”

Oh Yung-gyeom didn’t bother to ask if they weren’t exactly the “Zhang Jue” of this particular situation. Instead, he simply looked puzzled.

“Just provide us with the opportunity to meet the Great Lord of Japan,” they said.

Given his precarious political position, Oh Yung-gyeom couldn’t press them further. He suppressed his unease and remained silent until they entered Tokyo. Finally, after being received with lavish hospitality, they came face-to-face with Tokugawa Iemitsu.

Oh Yung-gyeom skillfully pressured Iemitsu, demanding an apology for the false claims that Joseon was a vassal state. When the evidence was presented, Iemitsu cautiously backed down and offered his regrets. With Joseon holding the diplomatic upper hand, Oh Yung-gyeom brought the Covenant priests before the Shogun.

Iemitsu scowled. “It seems Joseon is unaware that we have issued an edict banning the Kirishitan.”

“We have come only to ease your anxieties, Lord Shogun,” the Covenant priests said, prostrating themselves. “We harbor no ill intent.”

“Ease my anxieties?”

“Yes. We shall ensure those Kirishitans are no longer a headache for you.”

Iemitsu stroked his chin, intrigued by the proposal. The reason for the ban on Christianity—specifically Catholicism—in Japan was clear: it caused division. There were plenty of precedents where daimyos in Kyushu had converted and built powerful forces using European weapons. Furthermore, the Japanese knew all too well what happened when a religion established itself as an independent power. During the Warring States period, various Buddhist sects had acted as daimyos, hindering the unification of the nation.

If a rebellion broke out after allowing Christianity? If they declared independence? The country could be torn apart once more. Furthermore, the missionaries were practically spies for Portugal—vanguards of invasion.

“We shall organize a list of the believers and submit it to the Shogunate,” the priests proposed. “Furthermore, there will be no burning of shrines or temples. If you wish, we will ensure the followers adhere to the laws regarding the prohibition of meat.”

The offer was tempting. It was impossible to uproot the Kirishitans entirely, even if the missionaries were expelled. A full-scale rebellion would be a nightmare to deal with. Thus, if they could be tamed by providing them with the right leaders who were subservient to the state, the danger would be mitigated.

“We shall not engage in aggressive proselytizing,” they added. “We desire only the peace and prosperity of Japan.”

If they break their promise, I can simply behead them and expel their ships then, Iemitsu thought. He relayed the matter to his father, the retired Shogun Hidetada, who sent back a positive response.

“Very well,” Iemitsu declared. “We shall formally permit your ‘Unnamed Sect’ to operate.”

Thus, the Unnamed Sect became the only Christian denomination permitted to proselytize in Japan. Missionaries from the Continental Covenant were dispatched to various regions to lead local churches. As the Kirishitans became more moderate, the Shogunate felt a sense of relief. They believed the Christians were now under their control.

However, they had overlooked something critical.

“Wait… not eating meat and visiting temples like everyone else? Is that not idolatry?” one Japanese believer asked. “I would rather be martyred…”

“No,” a Covenant priest replied firmly. “You must survive. We have come to save you, not to lead you to your death.”

The flexibility and tolerance of the Unnamed Church’s doctrine made it difficult to detect its followers. They were indistinguishable from ordinary Buddhists. As long as they attended Sunday service—or even just offered private prayers due to “unavoidable circumstances”—they could be considered believers. The Covenant priests were far more pragmatic than the Jesuits.

In actual history, most Kakure Kirishitans were already known to the Shogunate; it was impossible not to notice a suspicious village where no one visited temples or shrines and everyone ate meat. But now, there was no need for such obvious behavior.

“Hmm… if the Kirishitans gather together, might they not start a rebellion?” the Shogunate officials worried.

“We shall handle that,” the missionaries replied. Instead of gathering the believers in one place, they scattered them across the country, where they slowly began to spread their faith to those around them. Those who gathered in small groups rather than attending a formal chapel were omitted from the official list.

The number of believers not included in the Shogunate’s records began to skyrocket. The local temples and shrines believed the “barbarian threat” had finally vanished, unaware that their own followers were converting one by one. Quietly, like water blending into water, the Unnamed Church spread throughout Japan.

Information gathered at small prayer meetings flowed back to the official chapels, where it was shared among the priests and eventually collected in Hirado. From there, it reached the ears of Kim Lee-sang. Hundreds of thousands of eyes and ears now belonged to the Continental Covenant. In this era, missionaries were spies, and believers were human intelligence assets.

The Japanese “firewall” that had sought isolation was being neutralized.

Naturally, there were other variables. Hasekura Tsunenaga, who had previously been shipwrecked in Virginia and had even visited the Vatican, was a devout Catholic. Unlike in actual history, he had survived the Shogunate’s purges thanks to the news Nemo had provided. Surprised by the sudden legalization of Christianity, he visited his lord, Date Masamune.

“Wait… so, from the Continental Covenant…”

“Only the monks dispatched from the Covenant will be permitted,” Masamune replied. “I’m told there is no reason for you to argue with them. Here, one of them is present. Why don’t you have a word?”

“It is a pleasure to meet you,” the priest said.

Hasekura Tsunenaga was not discouraged. He did not despair at the news that the Catholic Church was still banned, for he saw a meaningful smile on his lord’s face.

“What do you think?” Date Masamune asked.

“Pardon?”

“As I seek to gain power in the future… what do you think of this nation called the Continental Covenant?”

Hasekura Tsunenaga froze. When he had traveled to the Vatican, he hadn’t gone on behalf of the Edo Shogunate; he had moved under his lord’s command. His lord was curious to see if he could obtain “something” from the Covenant—something that would give him an advantage over the Shogunate.

Like those who use a VPN to bypass government surveillance and access foreign servers, the Christians and ambitious figures within an isolating Japan were lifting their heads through the “Joseon VPN.” Information liberalization was drawing near.

***

“Wait! Everyone! These men are heretics!” a Jesuit priest cried out. “Do not be swayed by their teachings!”

“The Lord said, ‘Render therefore unto Caesar the things which are Caesar’s; and unto God the things that are God’s,'” a Covenant priest countered. “You invited persecution by burning temples and spying for Portugal. Are you not the heretic for violating the Lord’s word?”

“Be silent! You bastard child of Luther and Calvin! You Protestant heretic!”

The Jesuit had been hiding from the Shogunate’s ban, only to return and find his church seized by a heretic backed by the Dutch (or so he thought). “Cursed Protestant! Enemy of the holy and universal church! Hound of Luther and Calvin!”

“How am I a hound of Luther and Calvin? I maintain my celibacy and honor the saints. Are you not the hound, managing the Portuguese smuggling network in this region?”

“I said be silent!”

What infuriated the Jesuit even more was that the number of believers had increased exponentially since he’d been gone. As he foamed at the mouth and hurled curses, the Covenant missionary simply ignored him and moved off with the believers. Soon, Shogunate soldiers arrived and surrounded the Jesuit, dragging him away as he continued to scream.

As the Unnamed Church took control of local church communities, hidden Jesuit missionaries were forced to reveal themselves. This only increased the Shogunate’s trust in the Unnamed Church.

Conversely, Portugal was in a state of panic. Their representatives rushed to Edo and prostrated themselves before the Shogun. “Your Highness, please reconsider! If you release our missionaries, we will repay you with infinite gold—”

“We have already issued the ban,” the Shogun replied coldly. “And you have been secretly sending missionaries all this time. It is only natural that we detain and expel them.”

“See? They are not to be trusted,” a Dutchman added, whispering to the Shogun. “Unlike these thick-faced men, we of the Netherlands have always treated you with faithfulness.”

“Indeed,” a Covenant priest added. “The Jesuit friars sent by Portugal are the vanguards of invasion. If left alone, the Catholic Church will grow like the Ikko-ikki that once challenged Oda Nobunaga’s unification…”

The Portuguese could only watch in impotent rage, for the words were true. Their smuggling routes and intelligence networks were being dismantled. Furthermore, they had long used new weapons and luxuries to entice daimyos and their subjects into converting. As Saint Francis Xavier himself had noted, trade and mission were inseparable. The Catholic Church in Japan had grown by tempting the nobility with Western goods and establishing “church territories.”

The Shogunate didn’t care what the Portuguese said. It was far safer to back the “exemplary” and “compliant” Unnamed Church.

“We shall control the volume of goods passing through Nagasaki!” the Shogun declared.

“You… you cannot…!”

“We can.”

The Shogunate made a rational decision to reduce trade with Portugal, which was inseparable from the Catholic mission. Portugal and Spain wept, while the Netherlands and the Continental Covenant laughed. But there was only one true winner.

***

At first glance, a steamship seems far superior to a sailing vessel. It is not dependent on the wind and possesses far more power. However, there was a reason sailing ships remained active well into the nineteenth century: steamships require a regular supply of fuel. The British Empire ruled the nineteenth century because it established coaling stations and telegraph lines across the globe, controlling the world’s logistics.

Even without such a grand example, it was clear that the Continental Covenant needed maritime bases in East Asia. Of course, Kim Lee-sang and the Covenant didn’t need to seize inhabited islands like the imperial powers of the later era; there were still many empty islands in the world. They sent ships to a small island near Hokkaido and an uninhabited island south of Japan to build warehouses and fortifications.

“Coal, you say?”

“Yes. Joseon has much high-quality coal. Open the mines so we may purchase it.”

“Hmm.”

“Using it will save your forests from being cut down.”

They decided to source the coal from Joseon. The Joseon court was concerned about its dwindling forests and was relieved to have another item to export to the Covenant. Regardless, Yi Hon, the reformist monarch who had effectively become a “VPN operator,” was satisfied. The Continental Covenant was shattering the isolationism of Japan and Ming through Joseon.