The Empire was vibrant, with Seoul, New Frontier, and indeed its entire territory bustling with activity. It was a time that would come to be known as either ‘The Age of the Great Leap Forward’ or ‘The Age of Madmen.’ The duality of this moniker was an interesting story in itself.

***

Imperial historians and those with a favorable view of the Empire described the era as ‘The Age of the Great Leap Forward’ or ‘The Age of Progress.’ However, historians with a negative or revisionist perspective labeled it ‘The Age of Madness’ or ‘The Age of Madmen.’ The academic papers published by these latter historians were always a ‘hot potato.’ They were filled with content that condemned an era that could arguably be called mythological rather than historical, and its representative figures, Sejong and Hyang. Naturally, these papers would frequently spark fierce debate, not just within the Empire’s borders but among the general public as well. This public outcry, which grew beyond mere academic discourse, inevitably drew the intervention of the Imperial Household.

Whenever a press conference was held on the matter, the Imperial spokesperson would offer the following response: “A historian’s perspective is a matter of personal values, so it would be an overreach for us to comment. However, it is true that we are displeased. And… one must not forget that there are many within the Imperial family who are well-versed in history.”

After a pause, the spokesperson would continue with a faint, sharp smile. “And, according to their conclusions, the scholar who published the paper in question seems to have been somewhat lacking in their research. The doors of the Imperial Office of Records are always open, so we recommend they conduct their research again.”

When the spokesperson delivered these words, it was usually the end of the line for the scholars in question. The Imperial Office of Records was not just the largest repository of records in the Empire, but in the entire world. In its early days, it had simply stored the Empire’s administrative records, but over time it had transformed into a colossal archive that housed every book, newspaper, and all manner of audio and visual data produced in the Empire. Most of the records related to the Empire that existed in the archives of other nations were simply copies taken from the Imperial Office of Records. It held the ultimate authority on all historical materials, especially those concerning the Empire’s own history. The quality and quantity of its records were unparalleled, and their value as a reference was absolute, because the provenance of every document—when it was compiled, who reviewed it, and who gave the final confirmation—was perfectly preserved.

Therefore, any scholar who was told to ‘re-check their sources’ had no choice but to delve back into those vast archives and write a supplementary thesis. To ignore the spokesperson’s ‘recommendation’ was to be branded ‘academically negligent’ and effectively buried within the scholarly community.

Of course, there were those who tried to hold out, dismissing the capabilities of the ‘Imperial family scholars,’ but they were the ones who ended up being ignored. Did they not know the characteristic trait that ran in the Imperial bloodline? Since Hyang, it had become a hallmark of the Imperial family members to, upon latching onto something, see it through to the absolute end.

Naturally, not all of them latched onto positive pursuits. There were figures like Yi Yung—known as Yeonsan-gun¹ in the history before Hyang’s intervention—who was the first in Imperial history to be expelled for a sex scandal. Such individuals were ruthlessly purged from the Imperial family, their names struck from the official genealogy and all financial support severed. But when that obsessive nature was combined with the Imperial family’s immense wealth, its members grew into titans who earned recognition in their chosen fields.

***

In any case, while the Empire was ceaselessly changing, other nations were also in a constant state of flux, and the Empire paid close attention to these transformations. The nation it watched most closely was the Ming Dynasty. After two major wars and a civil war, the Ming was in ruins. The national power that had grown during the prosperous ‘Rule of Xuande’ was severely damaged, and its internal affairs were a mess.

This situation was not entirely a good thing for the Empire. A Ming ruled by a competent but hostile monarch was a problem, as had been the case during the two wars, but a chaotic Ming was also a military and economic headache. The rampant banditry made the border regions unstable, and the flood of refugees was a serious issue. Furthermore, it meant a shrinking class of wealthy elites who could afford the high-end products the Empire sold.

This difficult situation began to change with the ascension of the Chenghua Emperor. Having spent his formative years in the Empire, he immediately launched a series of aggressive reform policies upon taking the throne. In short, his policy was ‘culling the vested interests.’

‘It is impossible to eliminate all vested interests. However, we must cull as many as possible to maintain a stable grip on power.’

The Chenghua Emperor and his pro-Empire faction, for the sake of their own survival and consolidation of power, carried out purges at the slightest pretext. The empty positions created by these purges became excellent bait. ‘You want power? Then swear your loyalty to me.’ Officials and eunuchs alike scrambled to bite this bait, and the easiest way to do so was by ‘rooting out corruption.’

Whether in the capital or the provinces, the moment any corruption was discovered, a secret denunciation would be submitted. The peculiar thing was that these denunciations often came not from just the Eastern Depot or the Embroidered Uniform Guard, but from both agencies simultaneously. This allowed for immediate cross-verification, and the purges proceeded swiftly. The newly vacated positions were then filled by those who had proven their merit, or those who wished to.

But the Chenghua Emperor and his faction could not be satisfied with this. “It is still unstable.” They lacked a native power base. The people who now swore loyalty had only done so for the bait the Emperor had offered; there was no guarantee how they would act if the situation changed. To overcome this, the Emperor and his loyalists employed several methods.

The first was to build a protective wall of Imperial soldiers around themselves. The Chenghua Emperor’s empress, though adopted, was a member of the Empire’s Imperial family. Therefore, the Empire had dispatched court ladies and a military contingent to attend to and protect her. This ‘Forbidden City Garrison’ of Imperial troops became a formidable barrier. If anyone were to attack the Imperial soldiers to harm the empress, it would trigger an immediate military intervention from the Empire. Having suffered two devastating defeats at the hands of the Empire’s army, the Ming had a deep-seated trauma regarding its neighbor’s military might.

The next method was a policy of strategic marriages. A significant number of the pro-Empire faction who had followed the Emperor were unmarried. The Emperor arranged marriages between them and the daughters of the established elite. For the old guard, being connected by marriage to the new center of power was a guarantee of both power and safety, so they actively pursued these unions, to the point of pushing their own daughters on the new favorites.

“Is this a blessing of women, or a disaster of women…”

“I just want to sleep alone for once.”

To the laments of his friends and loyal retainers, the Chenghua Emperor would just smile and say, “It must be a blessing. You lucky bastards.”

“A blessing, you say? I will report this to Her Majesty, the Empress.”

“To think you would try to disturb the peace of my household! And you call yourself a loyal subject!”

Unusually, the Chenghua Emperor took no concubines other than his empress. He refused to do so despite the fact that the norms of the Ming Imperial Household mandated it. The story that circulated outside the palace was that ‘the love between the Emperor and Empress is too deep.’ But those in the know, including his own faction, all understood the real reason: “The Emperor is utterly henpecked.” However, since the empress did not meddle with power, no one dared to make a public issue of it. Or rather, those who tried were promptly purged on that pretext.

***

While the Imperial military and marriage policies were solidifying the core of his power, work was also being done on the periphery.

“No matter what tricks we employ, the fact remains that we are the few, and they are the many.”

“Although the number of those who have joined hands with us through marriage has increased, we are still at a disadvantage. It may get better with time, but the best we can hope for is to be evenly matched.”

“Then what must I, no, We, do to gain a definitive advantage?”

“You must win the people to our side, Your Majesty.”

And so, the Chenghua Emperor and his faction implemented a new set of reforms. The first thing they did was create a new legal code. They used the Empire’s fundamental law as a reference, deleting the harshest punishments from the old Great Ming Code and drastically revising the sections related to the ‘Three Administrations.’ By also specifying various forms of legal support to solve the hardships of the common people, they secured their overwhelming support.

But the compilation of a new legal code was not all they did to win the people’s backing. They also began to reform the existing administrative and military structures. They prevented provincial officials from having too much power while also decisively reforming the military’s command structure and chain of command. Their guiding principle was: ‘Divide what must be divided, take what must be taken, and guarantee what must be guaranteed.’

While the eyes of the vested interests were focused on the changes in the provinces, the Chenghua Emperor and his faction seized the opportunity to reform the core power structure of the Forbidden City. The most representative of these reforms was the legal institutionalization of ‘ten thousand affairs’—the emperor’s personal handling of all ten thousand affairs of state. Until then, it had been customary for the emperor to personally review only the most important matters, while eunuchs approved the rest. This was where the problem lay. Who decided which matters were important and which were trivial? To prevent the eunuchs from exploiting this system for their own gain, the Emperor made his personal review of all matters law.

“The official documents and memorials that come in each day number in the hundreds! It will take a toll on your august person!”

“We implore you to trust in the loyal hearts of your humble servants!”

Despite such objections, the Chenghua Emperor immediately countered. “The Emperor of the Empire is already practicing this. You yourselves have said, ‘The most demanding people in the world are the citizens of the Empire.’ I hear that the memorials they submit in a single day number in the hundreds. And yet, he handles them all. Are you suggesting that I am less capable than the Emperor of the Empire?”

At his pregnant words, the ministers and grand eunuchs could only bow their heads and reply in unison. “We shall follow Your Majesty’s sacred will! Let it be as you command!”

By pushing through such reforms, the Chenghua Emperor began to win the fervent support of the Ming people, and the power of the local gentry began to slowly weaken, exactly as he and his faction had intended.

***

However, the vested interests were not about to go down without a fight. More specifically, the provincial gentry. They began to use certain words to refer to the Chenghua Emperor.

‘The Joseon Son of Heaven.’

‘The Half-Emperor.’

The former was a familiar insult of old, but the latter was a new appellation. The hidden meaning was: ‘His blood may be that of an emperor, but he was not raised in the Central Plains, so he is only half a ruler.’ Those who used these words began to plot in the shadows.

‘Let us find a whole man, not a half-measure, and place him upon the Dragon Throne!’