Chapter 70 : Father and Son (3)
Chapter 70: Father and Son (3)
The previous battle had proven the performance of the Dujeong-gap, and to some extent, the production know-how had also been secured.
"Not only that, but the Gukjagam has also been steadily conducting experiments on the Northern Zhou armor we captured this time."
This ‘experiment’ meant identifying the enemy’s weapon systems.
In fact, it was something they had always done.
Whenever they acquired armor, they would try it on, swing swords at it, thrust spears into it, and shoot arrows at it to test its strength.
However, this process had become more thorough because of my existence.
"They fire from distances of 10 paces, 20 paces, 30 paces, changing the weight of the arrows as well. They’re meticulously examining how many arrows penetrate and how many don’t. General Go Heul, who now oversees the Gukjagam, along with Taehak Scholar Eulji Mundeok and Taehak Scholar Lee Shin, are in charge of the program."
The charts, numbers, and statistical systems I created under Goryeo Myosan were finally shining.
The results from these tests were immediately reflected in patches to Goryeo Myosan.
Since it was a game trending among the Gukjagam and officials, even in this era, some degree of real-time patching was possible.
Even just a few experiments drastically improved Goguryeo’s strategic formations.
Then a natural question might arise.
‘Why hadn’t Goguryeo done this obvious thing before? Weren’t they a war-loving nation?’
The reason was simple.
To oversee such a project required a great deal of knowledge, but in this era, knowledgeable individuals were rare.
Even if you knew how good computer simulations were, without a supercomputer, you couldn’t use them.
But things were different now.
"That Macgul, Cheonchuksu, and Abacus you made… they’re truly convenient. His Majesty the Grand King is even promoting Macgul and teaching it to the underprivileged. Thanks to that, the number of literate people has increased."
It started with the script reform. Macgul and Cheonchuksu had begun to spread.
Because their utility had been proven first and then disseminated, there was little opposition.
Besides, right now Go Yangseong’s royal authority wasn’t something his retainers dared challenge.
Politically, he had embraced both the Domestic Fortress Faction and the Pyeongyang Faction, and recently, hadn’t he personally led the campaign and crushed Northern Zhou? Who would dare oppose that?
"In addition, the bureaucratic class has expanded."
"Indeed."
This referred to the influx of Northern Qi local nobles.
Goguryeo had simply given them the Cheongra Cap and assigned them the rank of Elder.
The Junior Elder with the red hat was too low, and from the fifth rank with the purple hat, they could enter the Jeja Council.
It was a compromise.
And they were worth it. These local nobles had done tax calculations in a country of twenty million people, after all.
Effectively top-tier tax accountants and elite lawyers—hundreds of them. So rather than leave them idle, Goguryeo used them as human calculators, statistical tables, and translators—a sort of all-in-one biological machine.
That wasn’t all.
They didn’t come alone—they brought their household core personnel. Cooks, blacksmiths, carpenters, estate managers, merchants, interpreters, etc.
Each one was a powerful pump for Goguryeo’s development. So with Macgul, Abacus, Cheonchuksu, charts, 21st-century-style Excel, and a pool of elite talent...
Goguryeo’s administrative capabilities had multiplied, enabling the execution of detailed, complex administrative tasks previously out of reach.
"Even the tax revenue has dramatically increased. The craftsmen at the Ministry of Carriages are nearly dislocating their shoulders making carts every day. With calculations going smoothly and Sibi spreading, it’s only natural. The future of Goryeo is very bright."
"That’s a most gracious comment."
"So, does the hero who captured Sukgun Fortress have any other wishes? I’m the type who gets itchy all over if I don’t give right after receiving."
What a pleasant personality. After a moment’s thought, something useful came to mind.
"Do you know of a brewery with skilled artisans?"
"Planning to drink?"
"No, I want to try making something new."
"Again?"
Yeon Jayu looked a little flustered by the unexpected answer but soon nodded.
"Not a difficult request. It wouldn’t be a brewery that supplies the royal family, but something a tier below that should be manageable."
That would suffice.
There were many breweries in Goguryeo.
Those without money made makgeolli-like liquor from acorns. It had a bitter taste and wasn’t popular, but since it was made from what could be gathered from the ground, it was quite widespread.
Those with some wealth drank alcohol brewed from chestnuts or millet, and nobles typically drank rice wine.
‘To be honest, in Goguryeo, rice is used more for brewing liquor than for making meals.’
Modern Koreans, who’re used to abundant rice, might find this hard to understand, but rice was scarce in Goguryeo.
Being so far north, rice didn’t grow easily.
The rice-loving Joseon people supposedly succeeded in cultivating rice even in the Four Garrisons and Six Outposts, but in this era, even Pyeongyang couldn’t reliably produce rice.
Only by going as far south as Hanseong could one find stable yields.
So with rice already scarce, it was more often turned into alcohol for prolonged consumption rather than used up in a single meal... and many of those breweries catered to nobles or royalty.
The brewery I acquired wasn’t that high-end. But it also wasn’t one of those that brewed liquor from acorns—it was a mid-tier brewery for the Guk-in (middle class), brewing makgeolli from millet and barley.
In front of the brewmasters there, I presented a newly crafted soju distillation apparatus.
"What is this? It looks like two clay pots stacked together... with some sort of pepper dangling on the side?"
"It is a pepper."
It was literally called a "jojaengi" (little chili). As the name suggests, it was modeled after that.
As always, Koreans couldn’t resist linking anything protruding to that.
"This is a tool to make strong liquor. You put a cold water bowl on the open top, gently boil the liquor, and from the jojaengi you mentioned, the strong liquor drips down."
"...Sounds just like pee."
People began whispering.
"I heard Lord Ondal likes poop, and now it’s pee?"
"Hey! It’s not that he likes it—it’s because of Sibi, right?"
"At this point... maybe he really does like it?"
These people… at least try to whisper. Do I look like some preschooler giggling over potty talk?
I cleared my throat to regain control of the room and began the liquor-making process in earnest.
"First, put the base liquor and mash in here, and start boiling the base liquor. Not too hard—keep it gentle."
"Gently, you say… understood."
They found the idea of ‘boiling liquor’ strange but complied nonetheless.
Bubble bubble—
Soon the liquor began boiling and steam rose. At this point, the alcohol—having a lower boiling point—would evaporate first.
"The first batch goes to the gods. It belongs to them, and drinking it can make you blind."
"Blind?"
"Try it then."
"No, no thank you!"
To be more accurate, the first run contains methanol, which is toxic and must be discarded.
But explaining methanol would be too scholarly, so let’s just say it’s an offering to the gods.
That works best in this era. Many religious rules were originally practical life rules dressed up spiritually.
I shared the distilled liquor with several others.
"Huh, it’s bitter? Really strong too!"
"Yuck! Tastes awful!"
I dipped a bit to taste for myself and it felt like my tongue was catching fire.
‘What is this? It’s just alcohol…’
Then I remembered something—initially distilled liquor is nearly 80% alcohol.
Later, as water mixes in, the alcohol level drops, so normally you mix subsequent batches to bring it down to around 40%.
‘This is… pure ethanol.’
It could probably be used for medical purposes. I crammed that knowledge into my head. First batch—discarded due to methanol. Second—so strong it’s lethal. By the third—
“Grrrgh.”
It started tasting somewhat like traditional soju. By the fourth batch, the alcohol content dropped significantly, but mixing it with the second batch brought the overall strength to a reasonable level.
But there was a problem here.
"This is… drinkable, I guess… just barely drinkable."
“Ugh, this is supposed to be alcohol?”
"Even a mongrel wouldn’t touch this."
It tasted awful. Like drinking watered-down hand sanitizer.
If you think, "It’s for medical use anyway, so who cares about taste?" you’re missing the point.
‘If it’s just for medicine, only a few breweries will make it and that’s it.’
But if it becomes tasty soju, countless breweries will voluntarily produce it. No need to explain which would yield more.
However, this flavorless liquor couldn’t even be called proper alcohol. I kept recalling my memories of drinking soju—both diluted and distilled kinds. And when I remembered the packaging—
‘Ah, right—charcoal!’
Soju straight from distillation tasted terrible—it had to be filtered several times through charcoal. That’s why soju bottles often had images of bamboo or bamboo leaves—they used bamboo charcoal for filtering.
‘There’s no bamboo here… maybe I can try another type of charcoal?’
First, I used plenty of charcoal made from jujube wood or oak found nearby. After filtering it two or three times and tasting it, only then did it start to taste like the soju I remembered.
So basically—
"Just strong water, huh."
"If you pay attention, there’s kind of a scent?"
Exactly—strong water. 21st-century diluted soju has additives that give it some flavor, but in truth, like Russian vodka, soju is really just ‘strong water.’
"Still, it’s drinkable though?"
"Hey, you’re not supposed to drink that out of a bowl like—"
"Uh, ugh, bleeuurgh!"
Drinking 40% soju as if it were 5% makgeolli inevitably turns into a pigeon buffet. The floor was soon decorated with handmade pizzas.
Once the product was roughly ready... of course, there had to be a tasting party.
"Slaughter the pig!"
"Squeeeal!"
I had a few pigs slaughtered and threw a grand feast. After all, soju goes with pork.
Sizzle—!
Pork skewers were grilled, and I handed each guest a skewer with a glass of soju.
"What is this? Water?"
"Soju. It’s a new creation."
"Soju? That fire-water? Don’t exaggerate... Kuagh!"
People trying soju for the first time were completely blown away. Onlookers widened their eyes in shock.
"What the heck did he drink... Kuagh!"
"What is this? Let me try a sip... Kuaaaaagh!"
They writhed at the throat-burning pain they’d never felt before. I, meanwhile, chugged the soju like nothing.
"Hoho, and you call yourselves sturdy Goryeo men, whining over this?"
In short, it was ‘ggrrk!’
And who was I?
The victorious general of Goguryeo, the conqueror of Northern Zhou, the illustrious Ondal.
The perfect, ultimate Goguryeo idol who captivated everyone at first glance.
"...Huh? It’s not that bad? Actually, kinda tasty?"
"Same here? This is pretty go—"
Just like how the late King Jinheung proved himself as a Hwarang, idols worked in this era too. Why else would 21st-century K-POP dominate the world?
Seeing their idol drinking soju, people forced themselves to follow along. And I had another new product.
"What is this liquor?"
"Beer."
"Barley brew? It’s different from what I know."
Even in this era, there were barley-based drinks. But that was more like ‘barley makgeolli,’ not the golden beer we know.
What I made was golden beer.
Technically, it was closer to ale. Brewing it wasn’t difficult.
Barley is basically a starch bomb. When it sprouts, it produces amylase to break down starch into nutrients. These days they call it amylase, but whatever. I learned it as amylase and iodine.
This sprouted barley is called ‘malt,’ or yeot-gireum. It sounds like oil but it comes from ‘to grow,’ meaning sprout.
Roasting and drying it, then rolling it removes the roots and sprouts. Grind it, wrap it in cloth, and boil it—amylase breaks down the starch into sugar.
‘Squeeze that, and you get wort.’
Add hops and boil, and you get that distinctive bitterness of beer. Where did I get hops?
Surprisingly, hops grow wild on the Korean Peninsula. Some craft beer brands that claim to be ‘true Korean-style’ use these.
‘Next, fermentation microbes for the wort.’
In this era, the most common is nuruk mold, or nuruk… but adding nuruk gives you cloudy barley makgeolli, not golden beer.
What you need is yeast. The name sounds complicated, but you see it often. That white film on fruit skins? That’s usually yeast.
So I crushed a bit of wild raspberries and dogwoods from the area and mixed them in, stored it in a clay jar, and waited two weeks.
"What kind of liquor is gold-colored...?"
Golden ale was served on the table. People were immediately captivated by the color.
"I’ve heard our ancient sages used black Hyeonju for rituals, but I’ve never seen a liquor this clear and golden!"
"Please, just a sip!"
"Hmm, this one burns less. What if we mix this beer with soju..."
"Stop!"
I shouted. No—Somaek (soju-beer mix) is for diluted soju and lager. Who mixes ale with distilled soju?
"But beer doesn’t have that fiery kick like soju."
"For someone like you, we’ve prepared Fiery Beer—that’s beer distilled into whiskey."
"Kuagh! It burns! That’s the stuff!"
"What’s this one?"
"Oh, that’s acorn beer made from acorns..."
"Why’s it called beer if it’s made from acorns?"
...Good question. In the 21st century, we had terms like ‘wheat beer’ or ‘rice beer,’ but thinking about it, ‘beer’ literally means barley brew.
Anyway, soju, beer, and whiskey fever swept through Pyeongyang.
"Does this brewery make soju?"
"Soju? What’s that?"
"Ha! You don’t know soju? The one that makes you go ‘Kuaaagh Kuaagh’ when you drink it!"
"...Did you eat a bad mushroom or something?"
"I’m telling you! Just go to Lord Ondal’s place already!"
"Kuagh! How do you make this?!"
The surrounding breweries quickly came asking about our soju and beer methods.
"...If you do it like this, soju comes out from the Jojaengi. Discard the first batch. Drink it and you’ll go blind."
Of course, being Goguryeans, they didn’t grasp it at once. A few drank methanol and experienced vision problems before they started discarding the first batch.
"What about beer? Can’t you share the recipe?"
"No can do."
Soju I shared for medical ethanol’s sake, but beer? That’s a luxury product. I planned to hoard it and quietly build wealth...
"Husband! Father is here!"
"...His Majesty again?"
Opening the door, there sat Go Yangseong in plain clothes, grinning as he played with his grandson.
"Onan, it’s Grandpa!"
"Granpa, granpa."
"That’s right!"
Now past two years old, Onan could speak short words. Physically, he was quite advanced—already half-running.
"Arururu, peekaboo!"
"Giggle!"
"Ebebebe… huh?"
While playing with Onan, Go Yangseong met my eyes, suddenly sat up straight and cleared his throat.
"You should’ve made your presence known."
"I did, Your Majesty. I hope my child did not cause trouble."
"A child brings nothing but joy."
Go Yangseong really liked children. From what I know, soon Lady Maeng, his concubine, would give birth to Go Geonmu and Go Daeyang... Their childhoods might turn out quite happy.
Looking at me, Go Yangseong spoke.
"Anyway, I’ve been waiting. Son-in-law, I must ask you—please share the beer recipe."
"Excuse me?"
"The nobles are obsessed with it. With it, we might be able to tether the Domestic Fortress Faction nobles to the capital more tightly. So I’m thinking of designating a few breweries for exclusive production."
...And just like that, I lost the brewery and artisans to a royal monopoly. At first, I felt a little wronged, but Go Yangseong’s next words made me grin.
"In return, preparations for the Malgal Suppression Campaign you proposed are nearly complete. Since it was your suggestion, I expect you to lead."
Giving me a chance to earn military merit just for the beer recipe? Truly, my father-in-law knows his stuff.
And around that time—
"With the death of Yuwen Yong of Northern Zhou, his son Yuwen Yun has ascended the throne. This Yuwen Yun... is said to be the son-in-law of Grand Marshal of All Under Heaven Yang Jian, who was the superior of Dugu Huang, who attacked us at Baesan."
News reached Goguryeo of Yuwen Yong’s death.