The Stalemate of the Imjin War

By early 1593, the Imjin War—Japan’s invasion of Korea (1592–1598)—had reached a critical impasse. Despite initial Japanese advances, Ming China’s intervention under General Li Rusong had halted their momentum. However, after the bloody battles of Byeokjegwan, Haengju Fortress, and Ungcheon, both sides found themselves exhausted. The Ming forces, plagued by supply shortages, disease, and heavy casualties, saw their morale plummet. Li Rusong, once a staunch advocate for aggressive warfare, now leaned toward negotiation. Meanwhile, the Japanese army, cut off from supply lines by Korean guerrilla forces, faced starvation and dwindling resources.

This mutual desperation set the stage for one of the war’s most intriguing deceptions: the alleged Burning of Ryusansen (Lóngshān Cāng), a grain depot near Hanseong (modern-day Seoul). While Ming commanders claimed a decisive sabotage operation, evidence suggests the event was a fabrication—a propaganda tool to mask their inability to force a military victory.

The Origins of the Fabrication

### Ming Desperation and the Need for a Narrative
Following the disastrous Battle of Byeokjegwan (February 1593), Li Rusong’s forces were in disarray. Korean records like the Joseon Wangjo Sillok note his growing reluctance to fight, while Jaegyo Panbangji describes his officers urging him to seek peace. Meanwhile, Japanese sources, such as the diary of Yoshino Jinzaemon, reveal their own dire straits:

> “By late January, our rations were nearly exhausted. Every day, we held councils, fearing an attack from the Ming-Korean forces. The men were weak, their skin ulcerated from disease.”

Amid this crisis, Li Rusong and his superior, Song Yingchang, crafted a bold claim: on February 20, 1593, Ming scouts led by Jin Zigui had infiltrated Ryusansen and torched its grain stores, crippling the Japanese. Song even boasted in dispatches to Beijing that this act had forced the enemy’s retreat.

### Contradictions in the Records
However, Korean accounts dismantle this narrative. The Seonjo Sillok reveals that on February 28—eight days after the alleged burning—Korean officials, unaware of any such operation, planned their own raid on Ryusansen. By March 5, strategist Ryu Seong-ryong still deemed the depot a viable target, noting its heavy guard. Most damningly, when Japanese forces withdrew in April, they left behind 2,000 sacks of grain—hardly the act of a starving army.

Cultural and Strategic Impacts

### A Propaganda Victory
For the Ming, the myth served multiple purposes:
1. Salvaging Prestige: After Byeokjegwan, China needed to justify its costly intervention. The “victory” at Ryusansen masked their inability to dislodge the Japanese militarily.
2. Pressuring Japan: The story amplified perceptions of Ming ingenuity, demoralizing Japanese troops already plagued by supply issues.

### Japanese Realpolitik
Despite knowing the truth, Japanese commanders like Konishi Yukinaga leveraged the myth to justify withdrawal to their superiors. As historian Hosokawa Kōichi notes:

> “The Ryusansen tale allowed both sides to save face. The Ming could declare a triumph, while the Japanese blamed logistics—not defeat—for their retreat.”

Legacy and Historical Reckoning

### Unraveling the Myth
By the 17th century, scholars like Japanese historian Hoshino Hisashi dissected the inconsistencies:
– No Japanese records mention the burning.
– Korean officials, including Ryu Seong-ryong, documented Ryusansen’s intact stores post-retreat.
– Ming sources like Huang Ming Congxin Lu quietly adjusted details, swapping Jin Zigui for more prominent officers like Cha Dasu.

### Modern Reflections
The episode underscores how war narratives are shaped by necessity. For contemporary historians, it serves as a case study in:
– Misinformation in warfare: How states manipulate events to control perception.
– The fog of war: Even primary sources can propagate falsehoods under duress.

Ultimately, the “Burning of Ryusansen” was less about flames and more about smoke and mirrors—a testament to the enduring power of myth in history.