Inwangsan Mountain rises imposingly behind Gyeongbokgung Palace. Some have read the history of bloodshed from the mountain’s energy.
Over 600 years ago, when the new Joseon dynasty’s capital, Hanyang (Seoul), was being planned, the opinions of two giants sharply diverged: Jeong Do-jeon, the architect of Joseon, and Muhak Daesa, the era’s greatest feng shui master.
Jeong Do-jeon argued, based on Confucian classics, that the palace (Gyeongbokgung) should face south with the main mountain (Buksan) behind it. This was a rationalist choice prioritizing royal authority and Neo-Confucian order.
However, Muhak Daesa read the land’s energy and was horrified. When the king faced south, the left Blue Dragon (the eldest son/legitimacy) represented by Naksan was too weak, while the right White Tiger (the second son/powerful minister) represented by Inwangsan was too large and fierce. With a heavy heart, he prophesied:
“If a palace is built here, the White Tiger’s energy will suppress the Blue Dragon, weakening the eldest son’s power while the younger sons and ministers will crave authority. Soon, bloodshed among brothers will erupt!”
Ultimately, Joseon sided with Jeong Do-jeon, and Gyeongbokgung faced south with dignity. Was Muhak’s prophecy an outdated superstition? Or the inevitable prelude to fate? Let’s follow the bloodstained history the land remembers.
The First Blood: The Prince’s Rebellion
Just six years after Joseon’s founding in 1398, Muhak Daesa’s ominous prophecy became a horrific reality. When King Taejo Lee Seong-gye appointed the youngest son of his concubine, Bang-seok, as crown prince over his legitimate sons, those embodying the White Tiger’s energy moved.
This was Taejo’s fifth son, Lee Bang-won (later King Taejong). Leading private troops, he stormed Gyeongbokgung, killing Jeong Do-jeon, Crown Prince Bang-seok, and all political opponents. (The First Prince’s Rebellion)
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The First Prince’s Rebellion: The ambitious ‘second son’ crushed the legitimate crown prince, fulfilling Muhak Daesa’s prophecy exactly.
The strong White Tiger (Lee Bang-won) overwhelmed the weak Blue Dragon (the crown prince) in a tragic fratricidal conflict. It was as if the terrain of Hanyang itself was reflected in this tragedy. From the start, Gyeongbokgung’s history was stained with blood.
The Second Blood: The Tiger Devours the Young King, the Gyeyujeongnan Coup
The curse of Gyeongbokgung repeated in a more brutal form a generation later. The protagonists were King Sejong’s second son Prince Suyang (later King Sejo) and his young nephew King Danjong.
The strong and fierce energy of Inwangsan (White Tiger) resembled the uncle, while the weak Naksan (Blue Dragon) seemed to embody the fate of the young king. The outcome was predetermined.
In 1453, Prince Suyang seized power through a surprise coup, eliminating senior ministers loyal to Danjong, including Kim Jong-seo (Gyeyujeongnan Coup). The powerless young Danjong was eventually dethroned by his uncle and met a tragic death.
The ill-fated King Danjong’s short life remains a symbol of Gyeongbokgung’s feng shui tragedy.
After these two horrific bloodbaths, Gyeongbokgung came to be seen as an ‘inauspicious palace.’ Subsequent kings preferred to leave the main palace empty and reside in Changdeokgung, built in harmony with natural terrain. This clearly shows feng shui’s real influence on royal psychology and politics.
Struggling to Overcome the Land’s Curse: Bibo Feng Shui
So, is Seoul truly a ‘cursed land’? Surprisingly, our ancestors recognized the land’s flaws and continuously tried to ‘heal’ them.
Sungnyemun Gate (South Gate): To block the strong fire energy from Gwanaksan Mountain to the south, the character for fire ‘禮 (ye)’ was included in its name, and the signboard was hung vertically like flames to counteract the fire energy.
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Heunginjimun Gate (East Gate): To reinforce the weak Blue Dragon (Naksan), the character ‘之 (ji)’ was added to the name to artificially strengthen the mountain energy, symbolizing the continuation of the mountain range.
The vertical plaque of Sungnyemun, a secret strategy to block Gwanaksan’s fire energy, symbolizes the will to resist fate.
This bibo (remedial) feng shui shows that the city of Seoul itself is a massive talisman and a product of human will striving to overcome destiny.
Conclusion: The Land’s Prophecy and Human Desire
The feng shui of Hanyang and the tragedy of royal succession are not mere superstition but key to understanding Joseon’s history.
Muhak Daesa’s prophecy might not have been supernatural. Perhaps he read the relentless human desire for power in the imposing Inwangsan, and the fragile legitimacy of a newly founded nation in the modest Naksan.
Ultimately, feng shui sometimes functioned as a warning prophecy, sometimes as fatalism explaining tragedy, and sometimes as a political justification for ambition.
Seoul is not a ‘cursed city’ but a city that has constantly reflected on and healed its own wounds. Its mountains, waterways, and ancient architecture are layered with the anguish and wisdom of a 500-year dynasty. Looking at Gyeongbokgung and Inwangsan today, why not listen to the whispers of the land? There, we can gain a deeper understanding of the choices made by historical figures.