In the 31st year of Sejong’s reign, which was also the first year of Hyang’s reign, Ryukyuan envoys once again entered Seoul just as autumn was beginning to take hold.

After settling into the Guest House for Foreign Envoys, they paid their respects to Hyang and continued their discussions with Heo Hu at the Ministry of Foreign Affairs building.

“Well then, what decision has your king reached?”

“Our king has stated thus: ‘The Empire’s proposal for a joint agricultural venture aligns with both nations’ interests and is most welcome. We also greatly welcome the Empire’s offer to provide military equipment. However, as we are but a small nation, the large quantity offered at discounted prices would be excessive[1].'”

Surprised by the envoy’s response, Heo Hu inquired further, “Then what quantity would be sufficient?”

The envoy swallowed before carefully asking, “If the joint agricultural venture is established, will Imperial troops be stationed in our country?”

“Most likely not. Though of course, we would need to reach an agreement with your country regarding the scale.”

“But surely there would be some minimum deployment?”

“We’re thinking of one cho (哨, division).”

“Wouldn’t one cho be too small?”

Smiling at the envoy’s concern, Heo Hu replied, “An Imperial cho consists not of 100 men, but 625.”

During this period, military units in Northeast Asia typically organized a cho as approximately 100 men.

However, as Joseon underwent military reforms, properly staffed units were consistently organized in multiples of five.

Starting with the minimum unit of o (伍, squad) consisting of five men, all higher organizational levels strictly followed the rule of multiplying by five.

Of course, second-line units in the rear typically organized in multiples of two or three. If war broke out and reinforcements arrived or new units were formed, existing soldiers would become senior members leading the replacements.

This operational system had proven its worth during the recent war with Ming.

The Ryukyuan envoy’s face brightened at Heo Hu’s response. “Ah! Then how about three cho?”

Stroking his beard, Heo Hu replied, “That matter should be discussed with our Ministry of Defense. But why do you ask?”

“Military preparations naturally require substantial resources, do they not? As a small nation, excessive military expenditure would burden our country.”

The envoy stopped there, but Heo Hu could read his true intentions.

So they want to rely on our shadow.

“Hmm…”

Understanding the envoy’s underlying meaning, Heo Hu made mental calculations.

We’re not in such a hurry to force weapons sales on Ryukyu, and Japan is being cautious of us, so this should work.

Having reached a conclusion, Heo Hu nodded.

“I understand your meaning. So, what quantity does your country desire?”

“The initial request of one thousand Eulshik firearms and ten Eulshik artillery pieces.”

“Pardon?”

Heo Hu let out a brief exclamation at the envoy’s response. The quantity now requested was barely one-fourth of what they had asked for during their second visit.

Though Heo Hu wanted to ask why, seeing the envoy’s expression clearly pleading ‘Please don’t ask the reason,’ he changed the subject.

“Very well. Let us discuss the joint agricultural venture next.”

“Yes.”

The subsequent discussions regarding the joint agricultural venture also considerably deviated from Heo Hu’s expectations.

Ryukyu recommended an area near Shuri Castle, where their royal palace was located, for the agricultural site.

“How about this Naha region? The gentle hills are good for farming, there’s a river for irrigation, and the harbor is conveniently close for ships to dock.”

“That seems fine. But is it acceptable to be so close to the royal palace?”

“Would the Empire ever betray our trust?”

“Well, that’s true, but…”

Heo Hu let his words trail off.

The location might be too good!

In the subsequent discussions, the main point of contention was the Empire’s insistence on directly managing wages for the agricultural workers.

“This is a policy we implement uniformly, including in Japan.”

“But our country’s situation differs from Japan’s.”

“The Empire’s policy remains consistent.”

Faced with Heo Hu’s firm response, the envoy had to concede.

“I understand.”

Heo Hu’s eyes sparkled at the envoy’s response.

Oh? They’re accepting this just like that? Without even consulting their king?

The rest of the talks proceeded smoothly.

“Now that we’ve settled the major issues, I shall seek His Majesty’s approval.”

“When might we expect the weapons delivery?”

“They will be supplied immediately after receiving approval and signing the agreement in Ryukyu.”

The Ryukyuan envoy rose, bowed, and earnestly requested, “Please entreat His Majesty to grant swift approval.”

“I shall do my best.”

After watching the Ryukyuan envoy leave with repeated bows, Heo Hu immediately rose and headed to a bookshelf.

“Now, where is that report on Ryukyu’s political situation…”

That evening, when Hyang received Heo Hu’s report in a meeting with key ministers and vice ministers, he pondered briefly before questioning Heo Hu.

“Is Ryukyu’s political situation still unstable? The quantity requested today seems only sufficient to arm the royal guard.”

Heo Hu responded promptly, “According to reports received by the Ministry of Foreign Affairs, it is exactly as Your Majesty suggests. Though King Shohashi ended the Sanzan period[2], there remain numerous nobles who show challenging attitudes toward royal authority.”

Hearing this, Hwang Hui spoke up, “Are they planning to use the strategy of ‘fox borrowing tiger’s might’[3]?”

Heo Hu nodded. “That seems most likely.”

Hwangbo In interjected, “If royal authority is so unstable, why did they previously request four thousand Eulshik firearms and thirty artillery pieces?”

Kim Jong-seo answered on Heo Hu’s behalf, “They likely planned to distribute them among pro-royal nobles. But now that our Imperial troops will be stationed there, they’re only requesting enough to arm the royal guard.”

Both Hyang and the ministers nodded at Kim Jong-seo’s explanation.

Hearing this, Hwangbo In shook his head. “Even so… relying on foreign troops… this is…”

Watching Hwangbo In’s reaction, Hyang mused internally, That’s how countries were ruined. We don’t need to look far. But wait, couldn’t this become a Ryukyuan version of the Russian legation incident? Being manipulated after trying to use foreign powers… Hmm. Would it be the Korean legation incident then? Ah! I’m getting sidetracked again!

Pulling his wandering thoughts back on track, Hyang made his decision.

“If they plan to use us through ‘fox borrowing tiger’s might,’ we can use them as well. When we establish the joint agricultural venture, we’ll send farmers and craftsmen to research efficient sugarcane cultivation methods and sugar production techniques. If we achieve good results, we’ll implement the business on a larger scale in the Southwestern Province.”

The Southwestern Province was the Imperial name for Dongfan[4], acquired through victory in the war with Ming.

With the Southwestern Province and the adjacent Penghu Islands becoming Imperial territory, the Empire gained an excellent waypoint.

This was Ryukyu’s tragedy.

Until the Joseon-Ming War broke out, Ryukyu had established itself as a crucial intermediate stop on routes to and from Joseon.

This was because Emperor Shendezong had blocked the establishment of ports in Dongfan.

Ryukyu had been profiting from both port taxes and intermediary trade between Ming and Japan.

However, once the Empire acquired Dongfan, there was no need to stop at Ryukyu except in unavoidable circumstances like encountering typhoons.

Of course, they were currently in the process of constructing ports and winning over local natives. But once this process was complete, Ryukyu’s value would clearly diminish significantly.

The process of imperializing the Southwestern Province was quite unique.

Unlike Ming or European countries that either used force or completely neglected the territory, they employed both carrot and stick simultaneously.

First, they established trading posts to conduct commerce, familiarizing locals with Imperial goods and currency. Then they provided jobs and improved living facilities to draw the natives into the Empire.

“In some ways, it’s similar to what the Japanese imperialists did.”

The Japanese imperialists who acquired Taiwan from Qing implemented subtle Japanization policies, including building modern infrastructure and organizing educational systems.

“As a result, it became a notably pro-Japanese state.”

However, Hyang added some extra seasoning to the mix.

“Those who properly receive Imperial education and prove their ability and qualifications will be appointed as officials! Moreover, they will receive equal treatment to Imperial citizens from the mainland!”

No ministers opposed Hyang’s announcement. In fact, they actively supported it.

This was thanks to their experience incorporating natives from Jurchen territories and Great Snow Island.

“Locals know local conditions best! We must utilize them properly!”

“Not doing unnecessary overtime is the truth!”

Hyang continued speaking.

“The Southwestern Province isn’t useful merely as a waypoint. Given its climate with short, mild winters, double or triple cropping should be feasible. We must properly utilize this to maintain stable food supplies for the Empire.”

Thanks to water control projects implemented since the early stages of military reforms, famines had become much less frequent compared to the history Hyang knew before his intervention. Additionally, by importing large quantities of rice from Ming’s Jiangnan region to prepare for food shortages, the Empire’s food situation had remained quite stable until just before the imperial declaration.

However, warning signs had appeared with the Northern Territory’s incorporation into the Empire, as its climate was unsuitable for agriculture.

To properly integrate the Empire’s Northern Territory, resolving its food situation was the top priority.

To this end, the Empire actively imported food not only from Ming’s Jiangnan region but also from Dai Viet and Siam.

However, both Hyang and the ministers knew this was just a temporary solution.

The Jiangnan region of Ming was problematic from the start. If the Grand Canal connecting to the north hadn’t been cut off, blocking grain distribution, the Empire wouldn’t have been able to obtain grain from Ming’s Jiangnan.

“I’d rather feed it to pigs than sell to Joseon dogs!”

There were quite a few merchants who said this and actually used the grain as animal feed or distributed it free to beggars.

Additionally, Dai Viet and Siam posed distance-related problems.

Well aware of these issues, Sejong had brought back grain seeds and farming methods from the New Frontier on his return journey.

“There’s a flower that looks like sorghum, but with larger, decent grains.”

What Sejong had brought was corn.

Huh? This is quite different from the corn I know. The taste is also a bit…

Hyang, who only remembered the taste of corn that had undergone numerous selective breeding processes, sent Sejong’s seeds to the Seed Research Institute.

“Since the New Frontier and our land have different climates, develop varieties suitable for our mainland and Northern Territory!”