Chapter 36: Ahead of the Times (1)

When I asked to meet Wang Godeok, Go Daewon casually pulled out a piece of paper and stamped his seal on it, writing a letter of introduction.

“If you take this, they probably won’t be able to kill you. I’ll talk to the Taehak scholars and get it processed as a day pass, so make sure to come back alive.”

That’s the kind of person Go Daewon is.

He cherishes his own people and supports those he trusts without holding back.

And also—

“To be honest, I’m so sick of copying things I could die.”

—he really hates anything that harms his peace.

The next morning.

I left Taehak with the letter of recommendation in hand. It was my first outing in a while since enrollment (about a month).

As I walked along, I hesitated a bit at a fork in the road.

‘If I turn right here and head toward the center, I’ll reach Wang Godeok’s workshop. If I turn left… it’s toward my house, where Boknyeo is.’

I wanted to see Boknyeo before going, but that didn’t seem likely.

Even with the letter of recommendation… going outside at all was already a privilege, and the only reason it was allowed was because the book issue within Taehak was a very, very serious matter.

And now I’m going to meet family too?

Whether seniors or peers, no one would leave me alone.

‘Better not to give them any reason to nitpick.’

It was unfortunate, but there was no helping it.

As I walked toward the central area, I began to see grand buildings in the distance. As expected of the capital of this era—higher-ranking people lived closer to the center.

Among them, Wang Godeok’s house was quite extravagant and easy to recognize.

“Who goes there?”

“Say it’s Seonin Ondal. This is a letter from the Crown Prince.”

“...Ondal? A letter from the Crown Prince? Wait a moment, please. And… we’ll need to inspect your belongings.”

One of the private guards rummaged through my bundle.

“What’s this?”

“Ginseng. It felt wrong to come empty-handed….”

“Ginseng? Ah, this must be that field ginseng! The one everyone’s been talking about in the marketplace…!”

“Haha, so word’s already spread?”

“The elder will surely be pleased. By the way, what is this? A square wooden object… doesn’t look like a six-faced die… seems like a bunch of stamps bound together… What’s it for?”

“Close. It’s something used when making books.”

Once the inspection was over, I walked toward the main quarters.

Following the guard’s lead, I moved into the main quarters.

‘So quiet.’

When I visited Yeon ga Ironworks, the place was bustling as soon as I stepped in, with people constantly coming and going. But at Wang Godeok’s Wood Workshop, there were only a few people here and there. Seemed like their fortunes had really declined.

As I approached the inner gate, something greeted me before Wang Godeok himself.

Whoosh—! Thunk!

A massive arrow flew past and lodged itself beside my ear. The guard escorting me flinched and quickly bowed his head after confirming who had shot it.

“Sir, young master!”

A man in his forties holding a bow.

We were seeing each other for the first time, but it wasn’t hard to tell who he was.

“You must be Ondal. First time seeing you in person, right?”

“Indeed, Elder Wang Jun.”

Former Daemodal, and Goguryeo’s greatest archer—Wang Jun. I pulled out the arrow stuck beside me and approached him.

“To be known as the best archer in Pyeongyang—your reputation is well deserved.”

Even I was surprised at myself. To not stutter once in this situation.

Come to think of it, it was the same during the Heavenly Deity Rite. Maybe it’s thanks to the Ondal genes.

As if I had some warrior gene, my mind becomes clearer the more dangerous the moment is.

“…Ha.”

Wang Jun clicked his tongue, as if dumbfounded.

“You realize you almost died just now?”

“If you meant to kill me, I’d already be dead.”

Yeombu, who taught me archery, could sometimes hit chestnuts from fifty steps away with uncanny precision.

Even Yeombu said he couldn’t come close to Wang Jun.

If someone like Wang Jun missed his target, it’s not a miss—it’s because he didn’t intend to hit.

Perfect accuracy, ironically, means he can’t be threatening. It looks dangerous but is completely harmless—a rather aggressive greeting, one might say.

“…If you can talk, go see my father. He’s waiting.”

“I have something to say to Elder Wang Jun as well.”

“If you’ve come to my house, you should greet the head first. That’s the order.”

A polite middle-aged man.

As soon as he saw me, Wang Godeok clicked his tongue as if disgusted.

“Tsk, tsk. Why come all the way to drag out a dying old man with your own hands?”

That was pure exaggeration. Wang Godeok looked far healthier than when I saw him from a distance at the examination.

Just his face alone had about three times more flesh, and his white beard gleamed. I’d believe it if someone said he’d grown ten years younger.

‘Is this… the power of retirement?’

Reminds me of former U.S. presidents who suddenly looked revitalized after giving up reelection. Maybe politics really is bad for your health?

Wang Godeok looked me over and said,

“Come to think of it, this is our first proper conversation face to face.”

“It is.”

“So, did that rascal Yeon Jayu give your butt a good roasting?”

I’d already heard the general situation of the examination from Yeon Jayu. Wang Godeok hadn’t done anything to me—depending on interpretation, he may even have tried to protect me.

But that didn’t mean he was friendly. He simply acted in line with his principles.

Honestly, expecting goodwill is just wishful thinking on my part.

After all, I and Boknyeo probably account for about fifty percent of why Wang Godeok fell from power.

Still, I didn’t want to remain on bad terms with him.

‘Just because he’s retired doesn’t mean his influence is zero.’

Wang Godeok still had considerable sway in Pyeongyang, so there was no harm in being friendly.

Didn’t someone say it? Better to lose ten friends than gain one enemy.

That’s true. One enemy can do more harm than ten friends can help.

So I brought out a relic of the future hero from the 21st century—a bidet.

“I have always respected Elder Wang Godeok.”

“What the hell are you talking about? Yeon Jayu too—what’s with you youngsters these days, dragging people you ‘respect’ by the collar and shoving them into the mud? Are you from Baekje by any chance?”

That ticked me off a bit.

Not because he likened me to those backstabbing Baekje bastards—but because he lumped me in with Yeon Jayu.

‘Even doubling my age, he still wouldn’t be as old as Yeon Jayu.’

From Wang Godeok’s perspective, maybe we’re all just kids, but I certainly didn’t see it that way.

Still, I didn’t come here to argue, so I lowered my head and said,

“…The misfortune between Elder Wang Godeok and me was merely a matter of different paths. Surely Elder Wang Godeok’s path was also for the sake of Goryeo?”

“You say that with a straight face? How thick is your skin? Is that what Yeon ga Ironworks is famous for? Supplying armor for the face?”

…As expected, nobles who enjoy praise and poetic metaphors only exist in fiction.

In the end, sincerity is the only card I can play.

“This is my heartfelt gift.”

I plopped down five roots of ginseng.

A bribe?

Absolutely not. The man holds no office.

This was—literally—just ‘sincerity.’

Of course, anyone who truly believes “if money can’t fix it, you’re just not using enough” probably isn’t someone I’d want to hang out with.

But it’s undeniable that adding a little money to anything makes it more effective.

And the power of my sincerity (with physical form) was undeniable. I could tell just by how Wang Godeok’s heavy backside slightly twitched.

“This is that… field ginseng?”

“It is. The highest grade among them.”

Wang Godeok is rich. Even if his fortunes have declined, five roots of wild ginseng are nothing to him.

But field ginseng was a new product, even to him. Of course he’d be curious.

Even Hollywood stars would be thrilled to get an unreleased iPhone model early, wouldn’t they?

“…Hmm, but only five roots?”

At that moment, I poured in another wave of ‘sincerity.’

“I did not give even a single root to Elder Yeon Jayu.”

“…Is that true?”

“You’re welcome to confirm it yourself.”

This was the unvarnished truth, without a grain of falsehood.

Only then did Wang Godeok’s expression begin to ease.

“At the very least, you know how to show respect.”

Despite all my flattering words, he didn’t budge—but the moment he heard that Yeon Jayu didn’t get any and he did, he softened up.

I was beginning to understand the kind of man Wang Godeok was.

‘A man who wants to be treated with respect by everyone.’

If someone wants only respect without the ability to back it up, they’re likely to become a nagging elder—but Wang Godeok understood that one needs capability to be respected, and he had indeed built up such capability.

Now I was starting to get the hang of how to use flattery and gifts. This too was a skill.

“So, you didn’t come here just to give me ginseng. What is it you want? Speak.”

“First, would you take a look at this?”

I held out several prototype ‘wooden stamps’ I had carved.

“What’s this? Stamps?”

“Similar. But the characters are inscribed inside, and there are grooves so they can be fitted into a plate.”

“Fitted?”

“This is how it’s used.”

I joined together the blocks labeled one一, two二, and three三 and fitted them into a plate. The reason I chose these was simply because they were the easiest to carve.

Then I applied ink and gently brushed the top with a brush after laying a piece of paper on it. Soon, the characters 一二三 were neatly printed on the paper.

No need for further explanation—these were wooden movable types.

At first, I considered woodblock printing, but while full-page woodblocks were good for small-variety mass production, movable type was better for high-variety low-volume production. In a situation like this, where various books needed to be distributed to Taehak students, the latter was more appropriate.

Wang Godeok let out a sound of admiration.

“Living characters, movable type活字… Brushed with a stamp印 and applied刷… Splendid.”

The great thing about speaking with intelligent people is that you don’t need to explain how great something is—they just understand.

“It’s a brilliant idea. Not to mention, it’ll dramatically reduce the labor of making books. Is this to resolve the book shortage at Taehak?”

“Yes. Your wood workshop is skilled in carpentry, so perhaps you could help spread this method.”

“Indeed. Lately I’ve had trouble making books since many copyists have left home. However… I must ask. Why bring this to me?”

Wang Godeok said,

“You and I aren’t exactly on the best of terms. Wouldn’t it be better to go to Yeon Jayu instead? This could probably be done in iron too.”

At first, I did consider that. Collaborating with Yeon ga Ironworks to make metal movable types.

But there were a few problems.

First, iron was scarcer than expected in Goguryeo. Not now, but back in the early days of Gomchon, five to ten families would share one iron plow. The cost of producing metal types would be astronomical.

Besides, even if Yeon ga Ironworks had the technology, it wasn’t certain they could manufacture metal types.

And more importantly… even if it were possible, if Yeon ga Ironworks started making movable type, that meant fewer weapons would be produced.

Goguryeo would face countless wars in the future. There hadn’t been many peaceful days so far, and by the sixth century, the scale of war would become incomparable to anything before.

In such a time, for Goguryeo’s top ironworks to divert attention away from weapons and tools toward another field would be unwise. Yeon ga Ironworks should stick to weapons and tools.

But saying it like that would be too blunt, so I chose a slightly different approach.

“Couldn’t this be seen as a way to resolve our discord? Standing in opposition to one who once ruled Goryeo… is a terrifying prospect for me.”

“Ha! You’re just like Yeon Jayu, you rascal.”

For a moment, I wondered if he was suggesting my grandson would stage a coup—but of course not.

“Shameless, thick-skinned… yet still bringing offers one can’t refuse. That Yeon Jayu fellow—he must’ve picked up someone more like a son than his own son.”

“Haha, that’s because you haven’t seen Senior Yeon Taejo. He’s a spitting image of Lord Yeon Jayu.”

“Heh, so there are three people like Yeon Jayu now? Then either Goryeo will fall—or Goryeo will pull off something unimaginable.”

Wang Godeok chuckled.

“Very well. What do you call this thing?”

“As you said—living letters carved in wood, so ‘Wooden Movable Type(木活字)’. And since they are brushed like stamps, perhaps ‘Printing(印刷)’ is also fitting.”

“You’d follow my naming?”

No, they were already called movable type and printing. Naming sense is pretty universal.

Still.

“Yes. Since you’ve given such a fine name, why wouldn’t I use it?”

Wang Godeok seemed pleased, so that was good enough.

In my previous life, when I was in middle school, I once took a field trip and writing contest to the Cheongju Early Printing Museum, about an hour and a half bus ride from Punggi.

We toured the museum, then were told to write an essay on printing. I think I put in decent effort and ended up winning a bronze prize.

But who would’ve thought that those two hours of ‘experience’ in my youth would help me like this?

Like ‘after applying ink, brush once to prevent tearing the paper’—

Or ‘trees in northern Korea don’t warp much after absorbing water, making them ideal for wood type, and the surface layer of wood with even grain away from knots is best’—

Or even ‘rather than making wood type flat, a slightly convex surface prevents paper from sticking and improves durability.’

Who would’ve guessed such knowledge would come in handy now?

“Indeed. But… there are some strange characters among your prototypes. What is this one with the mouth 口 beside a divination stroke 卜? And this one that looks like a sickle, or that one like a hoe laid on its side?”

Uh, what?

How did those get mixed in?

“Th-those are mis-carved blocks.”

“Hm, they look rather well carved for mistakes.”

“No, no. Please hand them over. Mistakes, definitely… Anyway, how long would it take to produce a book using these wooden types?”

“If we’re talking about the most important books, and gathering top craftsmen to carve all day—two months would be enough.”

“Two months?”

“Yes. Since Chinese characters are reused in many places, if the layout is planned well, we can reuse the same types throughout.”

Come to think of it, wooden type… During Goryeo and Joseon, they were often hastily made and used in emergencies.

A hundred books would be copied by hand, a thousand by woodblock or wood type, and over ten thousand by metal type, they said. Wang Godeok laughed.

“Hah, you alone have put countless copyists out on the streets.”

“I doubt that’s true. Even if you smelt iron into steel, can it compare to the quality of a master’s handcrafted work?”

Even in Joseon, despite printing technology, handwritten books still sold at high prices. No matter how well you make type, there’s always room for errors.

Just like how factory-made bags exist, but handmade ones still sell well—and are even considered luxury items.

“Very well, good. As you say, let’s try making these… movable types.”

“Could you send the first batch to Taehak?”

“That much I can do. The Grand King has been hounding us over books anyway. Write down the titles you need.”

Wang Godeok was smiling brightly as he said this. His ambition had always been to be remembered in history.

Sending Uiyeon to Northern Qi to promote Buddhism was one way—but to be remembered for spreading a new printing method was just as worthwhile.

And if it also meant a new vision for his family, all the better.

Moreover—

“Where might your son be right now?”

“Jun? Why do you ask?”

“I’ve recently heard of a curious archery method, where arrows are fired like from a crossbow, and I would like to share this knowledge with your son, the greatest archer of Pyeongyang.”

The ‘vision’ I intended to gift to the Lelang Wang Clan was not just wooden movable type.

The earliest known type is the ‘Phaistos Disc,’ discovered from the Cretan civilization around 3,000 BCE. Numerous words are engraved in a circular pattern.

At the time, letters were mainly carved into clay tablets, and this disc was also used by pressing specific words into the clay surface.

However, due to the lack of paper and demand for printing, it had little utility. It was a brilliant mass production technique in an era that didn’t need mass production.

In East Asia, the earliest clay movable types appeared during the Song Dynasty, and the earliest records of wooden movable type date to the Yuan Dynasty.

As for metal movable type, the Sangjeong Gogeum Yemun from Goryeo is the first by record, while the oldest surviving example is, as well known, the Jikji.

Woodblock printing preceded movable type slightly—already present during the Tang Dynasty and introduced to the Korean Peninsula during Unified Silla. As described in the story, block printing is good for small-variety, large-volume printing, while movable type suits high-variety, small-volume printing.

Perhaps because of this, China—with its large population—favored woodblocks during the Yuan, Ming, and Qing Dynasties. The state led massive book publishing projects.

On the other hand, with fewer laborers and smaller demand, the Korean Peninsula preferred wooden and metal movable types suited for small-variety, high-volume printing. The earlier emergence of metal movable type in Korea may also stem from this historical background.

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.