Roughly a year before Killian Gore exclaimed at the sheer absurdity of "Amazing Asia," an event unfolded that no one had anticipated.
In the Qing Empire, the Son of Heaven, the Daoguang Emperor—who had suffered the greatest humiliation since the founding of the dynasty—passed away.
His successor, Yizhu, ascended the throne under the reign title Xianfeng, declaring that he would wash away the disgrace of Qing.
But reality was far from kind to him.
Even before his accession, the forces of the Taiping Heavenly Kingdom, which had been steadily growing in number since the previous reign, erupted into full-scale rebellion.
At the center of it all stood a failed scholar named Hong Xiuquan, who proclaimed himself the son of Yahweh and the younger brother of Jesus, raising the banner:
"Destroy the Manchus, restore the Han."
"Our great Chinese civilization—why has it fallen so far?" Hong Xiuquan shouted."It is because the Manchus, not the Han, seized power! That is why the civilization that once led the world has stagnated, allowing the backward West to surpass us!"
"Drive out the Manchu barbarians!"
"Make China great again!"
"We will lead this land to the Heavenly Kingdom and overthrow the rotten Qing court!"
At first, Hong Xiuquan attempted to rally support through anti-foreign rhetoric and calls for self-reliance.
But when it came to actual action, he ran into a rather inconvenient problem.
The Taiping movement had first taken root in Guangxi Province, a poor region plagued by corruption—perfect for building a following.
However, advocating anti-foreign sentiment there posed an issue.
Just next door, in southern Guangdong, stood the overwhelming presence of the British Empire.
To make matters worse, Hong Xiuquan had previously boasted—falsely—that he had personally met Killian Gore, the Prince Consort of Britain, using that claim to attract followers.
Under such circumstances, openly antagonizing Britain was hardly a wise move.
So, Hong Xiuquan adjusted his strategy.
"If the Han are to rise again, we must first elevate our backward technology and institutions!" he declared."And have we not already encountered such a nation? The British, who dwell in Hong Kong and Shanghai—they are the ones we must study!"
"But, Teacher! Weren't the Westerners all enemies to be eradicated?"
"Westerners are not all the same! Just as we are not the same as those Manchu usurpers, neither are they identical among themselves! The British are different—they have grasped the principles of Confucian virtue!"
"They… understand Confucian philosophy?"
"Of course! Otherwise, how could mere barbarians achieve such a brilliant civilization? Our defeat came not from their strength alone, but from the stagnation imposed by Manchu misrule!"
His words were inconsistent, even contradictory.
But to his followers, Hong Xiuquan was always right.
After all, if he was truly a "friend" of Britain's Prince Consort, then surely the British themselves must possess some measure of righteousness.
"After driving out the Manchus, we must learn from Britain!""Absorb their technology and systems!""We will combine their knowledge with the spirit of the Han to build a new and glorious civilization!"
"Trust me, believers of the Heavenly Kingdom! Heaven is already within your reach!"
"HONG XIUQUAN! HONG XIUQUAN!"
"Learn from Britain! Overthrow the Manchus!"
This bizarre fusion of anti-foreign sentiment and pro-British admiration left both the Qing court and the British Governor of Hong Kong utterly baffled.
If they had merely been rebels, the British might have quietly supported their suppression.
But instead, these fanatics were openly advocating learning from Britain.
The Governor had already reported Hong Xiuquan's existence to the Prince Consort before, but Killian's response had been simple:
"Observe for now."
At the time, the Governor had assumed the Qing would crush the rebellion sooner or later.
No matter how weakened, surely the Qing Empire could suppress a provincial uprising.
But things spiraled far beyond expectations.
The Taiping forces continued to expand—and then, the emperor died.
"Behold! Heaven has struck down the wicked Manchu emperor!" Hong Xiuquan proclaimed."This is proof that the will of Heaven is with us!"
Even morning dew could be twisted into divine proof by him.
The emperor's death, naturally, became the perfect propaganda tool.
As the situation worsened, debates within the Qing court grew increasingly heated.
"We can suppress them with the Eight Banners and Green Standard Army! Issue the order immediately!"
"Such complacency already led to the fall of Wuchang! This rebellion must not be underestimated!"
"Then what do you propose? Borrow the strength of foreign powers?"
"If necessary, yes!"
In the past, such a suggestion would have been dismissed outright.
But the Xianfeng Emperor found himself increasingly persuaded by the cautious faction.
After all, reports kept arriving—one after another—of Banner forces suffering defeat.
Four consecutive losses.
At that point, anyone would begin to wonder whether these troops even knew how to fight.
"If we seek foreign assistance, Britain is the obvious choice," the emperor said."But their greed knows no bounds. If they send troops, they will demand an even greater price."
"That is true."
"If only there were a way to secure their aid at minimal cost…"
At that moment, a man stepped forward.
Prince Gong, Yixin, a Grand Councilor and the emperor's own brother—widely regarded as more capable than the emperor himself.
"Your Majesty, if we are to involve Britain, there is but one viable method."
"Speak."
"Britain is currently at war with Russia. And the lands Russia seized from us in the east—Primorye—have now become a battlefield."
The emperor's eyes sharpened.
"If we move now," Yixin continued, "even a small force from Manchuria could reclaim portions of that territory. We may then demand British assistance in suppressing the rebellion—on the grounds that we aided them against Russia."
"And if they refuse?"
"Then we still regain land from Russia. Either outcome benefits us."
The logic was sound.
Moving Banner forces from Manchuria to central China was inefficient anyway.
Better to send a small force eastward.
Revenge against Russia—without committing major resources.
The emperor found the idea appealing.
And so, he issued the order.
Shortly thereafter — Qing-Russian border
A group of Qing cavalry crossed the border with reckless confidence.
"Kill every pale-haired barbarian you see!"
"Loot everything!"
"Burn it all down!"
Reeking of alcohol, the soldiers rampaged through villages, treating the campaign as little more than a drunken hunt.
Discipline was nonexistent.
In truth, this was the reality of the Manchu Banner forces in the 19th century—little more than a hollow shell of their former selves.
Then—
They spotted a larger settlement in the distance.
"Perfect. That one looks worth looting."
"Charge!"
As they approached, something felt… off.
The figures in the village didn't quite look Russian.
Their clothing was different.
And more importantly—
They were armed.
The Qing cavalry laughed it off.
It didn't matter.
They spurred their horses forward.
Shouting. Drunk. Bloodthirsty.
Unaware.
Then—
BOOM!
A thunderous blast tore through the night.
A Joseon cannon, the Jija Chongtong, roared to life—its shell slamming into the path of the charging cavalry.
Neither side had expected the other.
Neither side had even properly identified the enemy.
And so—
In the darkness of Primorye,
Joseon, Japan, and Qing forces collided—by pure accident.