Hyang concealed his private reservations and continued speaking. “Is this not a vessel designed primarily to engage and destroy enemies with hit-and-run tactics? We also plan to arm it with self-propelled projectiles, specifically torpedoes, which I believe will provide more than sufficient firepower.”

“Even so, it feels somewhat lacking,” Hyeon said.

“The design conceived by His Majesty the Emperor is the foundation for this project.”

“My design had far more cannons than that…” Hyeon muttered, still brimming with disappointment, but he soon accepted the reality of the situation. “I suppose you can’t expect to be full from the first spoonful. If we use this ship as a starting point and make steady improvements, won’t we eventually achieve a fine result?”

“That would be the best approach,” Hyang agreed.

A short time later, the launching ceremony commenced. It was a formal affair where Hyeon read a ritual prayer for a safe launch and a successful operational future, culminating in the climactic moment the prototype vessel was set safely afloat upon the sea. Once the ceremony concluded, Hyeon addressed the officials and personnel gathered at the site. “If it were up to me, I would love to throw a grand feast to celebrate. However, given the importance of this project and the many watchful eyes and ears upon us, I regret that we cannot. Instead, I shall provide bonuses and additional leave time as a substitute.”

“Your Majesty’s grace is boundless!”

The resulting cheer from those expressing their gratitude was louder and more thunderous than ever before. Hearing the roar, bystanders began to whisper among themselves.

“My, what loud voices.”

“It’s for bonuses and time off. Wouldn’t you be shouting just as loud?”

“Ah, right…”

***

The prototype ship, christened the Sea Seal, soon began a series of various sea trials. The naval commanders who observed the Sea Seal‘s performance, however, could not hide their lingering disappointment.

“She is remarkably swift, truly… but if only she could carry just a few more cannons, it would be the icing on the cake.”

“The power of the quick-firing guns is impressive, but a total of ten guns feels far too few.”

“Technically, it’s five mounts, since they’re paired in twos.”

Every time they heard such assessments from the naval commanders, the faces of the artillery specialists and the ship designers flushed, veins bulging in their temples.

“They have no idea what kind of cannons those rapid-fire guns are!”

“Icing on the cake? It would be Painting a snake and adding feet! A detrimental addition, more like!”

***

The rapid-fire cannons mounted on the Sea Seal were prototypes for the Empire’s fourth-generation artillery. The gun barrels, constructed from composite materials including advanced steel, wrought iron, and steel cables, were capable of withstanding significantly higher pressures. The breechblock mechanism had also been improved, making it much easier and faster to open and close the breech.

And that was not all. The recoil mechanism, first introduced with the third-generation guns, had evolved into a second-generation system, thanks largely to the availability of chicle and new lubricants derived from the petroleum refining process. A new gasket, which utilized both chicle and copper, provided a far superior seal compared to the previous gaskets that used only copper plates. This new lubricant was also capable of withstanding much higher temperatures than the castor bean powder used before.

With these improvements to both the cannon and the recoil mechanism, the new rapid-fire gun could hurl its 3-chi (approx. 10cm) caliber projectile much farther and at a higher velocity. However, the component that truly earned this new artillery the “rapid-fire” designation was the rotating turret in which it was housed.

The turret, armored on its roof and all four sides with 2-chi-thick (approx. 6cm) steel plates, was equipped with an integrated hoist system for supplying projectiles and propellant charges. This hoist ran directly down into the ammunition magazine located beneath the turret. This system allowed shells and charges to be fed continuously from the magazine—which was itself protected by a robust barrier acting as both a firewall and an armor plate—enabling the turret’s gun crew to maintain a high rate of fire.

Of course, this system was not without its problems. First, just like the third-generation ammunition, a fixed projectile that combined a brass casing and a warhead into a single unit was extremely heavy. To solve this, the new artillery used separate-loading ammunition, with the propellant charge and the projectile loaded individually. Furthermore, the propellant charge itself was packed into a casing made of thick, rolled oil paper (also called as influential person), leaving only the base plate containing the primer. This was a desperate, tearful effort to reduce weight while simultaneously saving every last pun possible to escape the relentless pressure from the Ministry of Finance.

The second problem was the ammunition hoist. Its power source was manual human labor. Although pulleys were used to increase efficiency, there was a clear limit to what could be achieved as long as it relied on manpower. Yet, despite these various limitations, the power of the new rapid-fire cannon was exceptional.

It boasted power and range comparable to the 4-chi (approx. 12cm) third-generation cannons mounted on the second decks of the Challenger-class battleships and in the broadside batteries of the Assault Turtle Ships. It was decidedly superior to the third-generation cannons of the same caliber mounted on the Hae-eung Class. And finally, it completely outclassed the second-generation naval guns that France had acquired in Corsica, successfully replicated, and was now installing on the Hae-eung Class ships being transferred to other countries.

The Sea Seal‘s hull was equally formidable. Although its armor plating was thinner than that of the Assault Turtle Ship, it used improved steel armor, granting it respectable defensive capabilities. The engine was no different. Its steam turbine, which ran on light oil refined from petroleum, was more compact than existing coal-fired engines yet produced slightly more power.

This combination of a more powerful engine in a hull slightly smaller than the Hae-eung Class gave the Sea Seal superior maneuverability that left the Hae-eung in its wake. Other advantages gained from using light oil as fuel included a longer cruising range and better all-weather operational capability.

Taking all these performance metrics into account, the Sea Seal completely outmatched the Hae-eung Class. It could move even faster than the Hae-eung, which was already renowned for its speed, allowing it to dictate the engagement and batter its predecessor from a superior range.

In the right hands, it could even potentially challenge a Challenger-class. This was precisely why the Imperial Navy commanders couldn’t shake their disappointment.

“If only we could have mounted just ten more guns…”

Hearing the Imperial Navy’s persistent complaints, Hyeon clicked his tongue. “Tsk. I understand the generals’ frustration, but adding more cannons would mean redesigning the entire engine and hull from the ground up. That would be a case of ‘too much is as bad as too little.'”

Hyang, however, was far more blunt. “A saury must be a saury, and a cutlassfish must be a cutlassfish. You are asking us to turn a saury into a cutlassfish. Does that make any sense to you? Are you suggesting we strip the Sea Seal‘s armor down to paper just to mount a few more guns?!”

Starting with the Challenger and Hae-eung classes, Hyang had actively applied the ‘vital part’ called concentrated armor zone, or citadel, concept to the Imperial Navy’s warship designs. This design philosophy had been passed down to all the Imperial Navy’s designers, as well as to Hyeon.

To them, the commanders’ whining sounded like a demand to sacrifice the Sea Seal‘s greatest strengths. With even Hyang stepping in to rebuke them, the Imperial Navy commanders finally fell silent. Seeing their expressions, Hyeon softened the tone and added,

“The Sea Seal-class’s perceived lack of firepower will be supplemented by the self-propelled torpedoes. Therefore, generals, lay your concerns to rest.”

“We obey your command!”

Despite their formal assent, the commanders’ grumbling continued in private.

“Those self-propelled torpedoes… they’re the bigger problem.”

The self-propelled torpedo, a weapon whose development had been initiated by Leonardo da Vinci, still had a long way to go. The component holding it back most severely was its propulsion system. Leonardo’s prototype was propelled by burning gunpowder, much like a Singijeon. In other words, it was essentially a large Sanhwa Singijeon (a type of large rocket arrow) fired underwater instead of into the sky.

This was precisely the reason the Imperial Navy commanders were so wary of it. While many of the Empire’s researchers and artisans, starting with Hyang, had managed to develop progressively safer gunpowder, it remained an inherently dangerous substance. On land, Sanhwa Singijeon launchers were spaced far apart for safety. The problem was that these torpedoes had to be crammed onto a ship, a much more confined space.

“The slightest malfunction with one of those things, and it’ll lead directly to the ship sinking. That’s the problem.”

This unresolved issue was why the naval commanders could not abandon their lingering obsession with mounting ‘many, more, and even more; powerful, more powerful, and even more powerful’ cannons on their ships. It was in the midst of this impasse that a path to solving the torpedo’s problem was discovered. Or rather, an event occurred that would allow the Empire’s science and technology to take another great leap forward.

***

After countless sea trials and simulated drills led to a series of modifications and improvements, the ‘Sea Seal-class destroyer’ finally began mass production. While not the Empire’s ‘first iron-hulled ship’, the Sea Seal held the distinction of being the ‘first mass-produced iron-hulled warship’.

The smooth construction of the Sea Seal-class required a massive supply of steel. The steel mills in Motherland, Northern Territories, and New Frontier racked their brains, searching for ways to increase their output.

“Simply throwing more iron ore and coal at the problem isn’t a sustainable solution.”

“There has to be a new method, something to improve efficiency.”

While the steel mills and research institutes were agonizing over this very problem, an urgent report was delivered to Hyeon and Hyang.

“A new research submission has been posted!”

At Crown Prince Woo’s report, Hyeon and Hyang exchanged smiles.

“The number of these submissions has certainly increased lately, hasn’t it?” Hyang remarked.

“Indeed, it has,” Hyeon agreed. “So, what is its difficulty rating?”

At Hyeon’s question, Woo’s face lit up. “It is rated The Foolish Old Man Moves Mountains, Top-Tier, Your Majesty!”

“What did you say?!”

At the news that a solution to a problem rated at the very highest difficulty had been found, both Hyang and Hyeon shot up from their seats, their hands outstretched.

“The report!”

“Here it is, Your Majesties!”

Taking the report, Hyang and Hyeon began to read it with intense concentration. As Hyang absorbed the contents, his face lit up with a brilliance he hadn’t shown in ages.

Finally!

The report was titled: Regarding the Gas that Promotes Combustion and Oxidation.

It was the discovery of oxygen.

Hyeon, having confirmed the document’s contents, turned to Hyang with a beaming smile. “To think, a The Foolish Old Man Moves Mountains Top-Tier problem has been solved… It seems the ‘war of attrition’ the Emperor Emeritus spoke of is finally bearing fruit.”

“So it would seem,” Hyang replied, his voice filled with satisfaction.

***

The very first research institute Hyang had established was the Industrial-Academic Research Institute.

“The Industrial-Academic Research Institute alone isn’t enough. It’s not as if I can personally oversee every single experiment.”

Driven by this reality, Hyang had gone on to establish more and more research institutes. However, the pool of talent within Joseon at the time was far too shallow, forcing him to eventually invite scholars from Europe. Even so, the results remained sluggish. Finally, Hyang had made a decisive resolution.

“I’m not going to die of old age, I’m going to die of a stress-induced ulcer! Fine! If that’s how it is, we’ll wage a war of attrition! We will buy time with sheer volume!”

Following this resolution, Hyang began to recruit foreign talent even more aggressively. Before long, the research institutes were teeming with scholars from Europe and the Middle East. Surveying this scene, Hyang had muttered to himself with a supremely confident expression.

‘This… this is the beauty of paying to win.’

Hyang’s “paying to win” strategy didn’t stop at just recruiting established talent. He used all sorts of financial grants and various rewards as bait to lure talented and ambitious young international students and Imperial citizens into becoming researchers at the institutes. These young men and women, having entered the institutes as researchers, would learn directly from the senior scholars while assisting them in their research.

It wasn’t long, however, before these junior researchers began to refer to themselves as ‘Academic Slaves (Hagno)’ or ‘Academic Maids (Hakbi)’.

“What’s the difference between our life and a common slave’s…?”

This was because every single part of the process was their responsibility: preparing and conducting the numerous experiments run by the scholars who were supposed to be teaching them, collecting all the resulting data, and then organizing that data into a format that their “masters” could analyze. They were only able to endure this grueling life thanks to the various grants and bonuses provided by the Imperial Household, and, of course, the immense honor and financial windfall that came when the results of their experiments were successfully registered as intellectual property.