Hwaseong Naval Clash (3)
The lights of the marketplace beyond Hwaseong's walls glowed warmly, but the sea ahead of Si-woo, who had set out to protect them, was shrouded only in thick, murky fog.
Five ships from the Gigi-cheong fleet. Compared to Joseon's mainstay panokseon warships, these prototype vessels looked sleek to the point of fragility—they were the only blade Si-woo trusted today. And the hands to wield that blade stood beside him.
"Director of the Gigi-cheong, this fog reeks. It smells like blood mixed with the sea breeze," came a voice from behind. It was Baek Dong-su, Joseon's finest swordsman and King Jeongjo's personal guard. Gone was his usual leisurely demeanor; his topknot was tied tight, and his hand gripped the hilt of his cherished blade. Beside him stood Yi Bang-mu, the grizzled naval veteran, adjusting his command chart as he glared at the sea.
Yi Bang-mu swept his eyes over the bizarre devices on the bridge Si-woo had designed, then spoke curtly. "My lord, I'll be frank. Can we really trust these machines in real combat?"
Si-woo placed his hand on the metal rudder lever and replied, "The land tests were flawless. There's no defect in the mechanisms. But, General..." He met Yi Bang-mu's gaze squarely. "Machines never betray their numbers, but the sea sometimes defies common sense. I trust my machines, but on the battlefield, it's not the machines that create miracles—it's the general's command."
"So you're entrusting the fate of these strange ships to me?"
"I'll merely serve as your hands and feet, ensuring these machines respond no slower than your will. Take the helm of this fleet today, General."
"I'll make sure this ship reaches the waves before your thoughts do."
Yi Bang-mu's eyes widened. The young head of the Gigi-cheong, who held real power in the court, was handing full battlefield authority to a mere military officer like him. It was an honor he'd never felt in decades of service.
"Director... You truly trust me this much?"
"Your experience is the highest technology that no numbers can quantify."
Yi Bang-mu stared at Si-woo for a moment, then slowly drew his command chart. "Very well! The Gigi-cheong Director has placed the world's finest new blade in my hands—today, I'll use it to cleave every piece of trash from the West Sea without mercy! All ships, weigh anchor and advance!"
Si-woo turned to Baek Dong-su. "Inspector Baek Dong-su, I leave our rear to you."
Baek Dong-su grinned. "Don't worry. There's not a soul in these waters faster than my sword."
The precise variable-speed gears of the Gigi-cheong meshed with a low mechanical hum. In the still fog without a breath of wind, the Jilpung sliced through the sea like a living fish, heading toward the pirates' ambush.
As the fleet entered the narrow channel of Namyang Bay, the thick fog began to swirl with salt. Yi Bang-mu read the shift in the breeze brushing his nose and furrowed his brow. "Halt. The currents have changed."
At his sharp order, the Gigi-cheong helmsmen yanked the rudder levers. The precise gears engaged, and the ships slowed in unison.
In that instant, dozens of red sails emerged ghostlike from the dense fog ahead—the fleet of Jeok Sangeo, the West Sea pirate lord starved for plunder.
"Hahaha! They really crawled into this narrow pass. Stupid government dogs!" Jeok Sangeo bared his yellow teeth in a hideous laugh. As if he'd anticipated their arrival, the pirate ships had already formed a perfect encirclement.
"Just five ships? Smash those freakish hulls and sink 'em whole! Today, the master of this sea ain't Joseon's king—it's me, Red Shark!"
The pirate fleet stretching across the horizon numbered over thirty by rough count. Confirming Si-woo's squadron trapped in the narrow strait, they fanned out like a net, closing in.
Baek Dong-su muttered low. "Gotta be thirty at least. Tense?"
"Not particularly."
"Liar."
Si-woo chuckled briefly and checked the gear mechanisms. Yi Bang-mu's eyes deepened. The enemy's numbers were overwhelming, but his voice held steady.
"My lord, see there. They're just a pack of wolves charging on numbers alone. They think they've herded us into this narrow strait, but flip it—they've blocked their own retreat too."
"As you say, General. Our ships can pivot in place even in these tight waters."
Yi Bang-mu nodded in satisfaction, drew his chart, and pointed to the cliffs on the left shore. "All ships, hard left turn! Form single file and target their flanks. If they try ramming us, we'll stuff fireballs down their throats!"
The pirates jeered as the government ships suddenly veered toward the cliffs. "Scared stiff, smashing their heads on rocks! Close in! Grapples out—capture 'em whole!"
Pirate ships churned foam, barreling their bulky hulls toward the Jilpung. Distance: mere dozens of jang. Iron grapples whistled through the air.
Until then, the silent Baek Dong-su slowly drew his sword. A grapple aimed at Si-woo's back snagged on his blade tip and snapped harmlessly.
"Director, they're close enough to hear 'em breathing."
"Close enough."
Si-woo gripped the revolving cannon's cooling lever and turned to Yi Bang-mu. "General, your orders."
Yi Bang-mu bellowed, "All ships, revolving cannons—open fire! Concentrate firepower!!"
"Open fire!!"
His command swallowed all battlefield noise. Heavy mechanical clanks erupted across the decks. The compound gear assemblies, machined day and night by Gigi-cheong scholars, meshed as the cannon chambers spun like screams.
Boom-boom-boom-boom-BOOM!
Traditional Joseon cannons took at least three minutes per shot—firing, swabbing, reloading. Si-woo's ships showed no mercy. Rotary feeders behind the barrels shoved chilled rounds in relentlessly. Three minutes of waiting swapped for ten seconds of hellfire.
The strait turned to a sea of flames, thunder, and splintering wood.
"Wh-what kinda monster is this?! How're they firing nonstop without reloading?!"
Relentless steel rain poured onto the decks of charging pirate ships. Shells crumpled thick railings, snapped massive masts. Pirates vanished into waves without a scream.
Amazed by the unprecedented rate of fire yet unflinching, Yi Bang-mu swung his chart ceaselessly. "See that? Their momentum's broken! Don't stop—ram more iron down their maws!"
His commands flowed like water, exploiting the ships' agility to hit enemy blind spots. But the pirates were feral dogs who'd traded Noron silver for their lives. Elite boarders hurled grapples from burning decks, clambering over the Jilpung's rails.
"That's him! Kill that one! Take his head to the boss!"
Dozens of pirates, knives in teeth, surged toward Si-woo on the bridge.
Baek Dong-su surged forward, slicing wind. Slash! No visible sword flash—just necks twisting grotesquely midair, blood fountaining to stain the deck red. Three swings felled seven boarders rolling dead.
Baek Dong-su flicked blood from his blade and glanced at Si-woo. "Director, just keep pushing forward. No vermin'll touch you while my sword holds."
"Reassuring words. I believe you."
Si-woo held firm, raising an upgraded steam-powered repeating crossbow from the Gigi-cheong. Steel string taut, it whirred mechanically.
Thwip, thwip-thwip! Steel bolts pierced the last pirate's brow, threading cannon fire and sword net.
Si-woo yanked the cooling lever again. "General, Master Baek. The board is set. Now cut their throats."
"Th-this can't be! Turn the ships! Ride the headwind or we're dead!"
Pirate lord Jeok Sangeo screamed in terror. Half his fleet had sunk; the rest burned. Pirates, knowing panokseon weakness to headwinds, furled sails for desperate flight.
"My lord, they've caught the wind! We might lose them!" Yi Bang-mu cried urgently.
But Si-woo eyed their sterns. "No wind? We'll make some. Paddlewheels—activate! All hands to the capstans!"
He hauled the massive steel lever center-bridge full throttle. Giant waterwheels hidden along the hulls rose splashing. Crew below hauled compound capstan ropes madly; wheels spun white foam.
Rumble-rumble!
The Jilpung defied wind like a monster, sails flapping limp, chasing pirate tails.
"G-ghost ship! Running without wind?!"
Panicked pirates glanced back, souls fleeing. As they floundered, the Jilpung rammed the flagship's side. Deck heaving, Baek Dong-su leaped.
Shing! His blade grazed Jeok Sangeo's neck. The head hit waves before Baek Dong-su sheathed and returned.
"Situation clear, Director."
Si-woo silently watched burning hulks sink. Smoke cleared; the West Sea stilled.
Yi Bang-mu approached. "My lord, decades at sea, but nothing like today's fight."
"All thanks to you, General. No matter how wondrous the weapons, without a seasoned commander's eye, they'd be mere scrap."
Yi Bang-mu chuckled, sheathing his chart. "Make more next time."
Three days later, Hanyang's royal council chamber hung in heavy silence. Noron grandees polished arguments to pressure Jeongjo with news of Si-woo's defeat.
Then Yi Bang-mu and Baek Dong-su—armor still blood-fresh—and Si-woo strode in boldly.
Si-woo drew the pirate lord's bloodied flag from his robes and laid it before Jeongjo. "Your Highness, we've crushed the West Sea pirates plaguing the routes. All paths to Hwaseong are now safe under the Gigi-cheong banner."
Noron ministers paled like dirt. Their silver and rice to the pirates were fish food; their grain-price scheme bubbles burst.
A trembling Noron grandee spoke. "B-but... just five Gigi-cheong ships beat thirty? Exaggerated report?"
Yi Bang-mu cleared his throat, slowly turning to the doubter. Veteran dignity in his eyes. "My lord, decades guarding these seas, I've never claimed false merit. If you doubt, join the next sortie—witness the Gigi-cheong's might yourself. I'll stake my life escorting you."
The Noron grandee shut up. "Observe" meant frontline hell—death sentence to ink-stained Hanyang dwellers.
Yi Bang-mu's counter silenced the chamber like poured ice water.
Jeongjo rose laughing heartily. "See that? This is the technology I trust—and the vassals! Who dares block Hwaseong's path now?!"
Si-woo eyed the bowing Noron backs, then turned quietly. Well done, my lords. Thanks to you, we launched the ships and caught the pirates.