Aftermath: The Mongols' Crushing Defeat

***

Unlike the time of Salitai, numerous soldiers had fled back from the Mongol Empire, and news of Subutai's army suffering a devastating defeat spread like wildfire.

"How could Subutai, the conqueror of countless nations, meet his end in this small, impoverished land of Goryeo?"

He had crushed the rising Khwarezm Sultanate, cornering its sultan on a tiny island to his death. Along the Kalka River, he had shattered the allied forces of the western regions, slaying six grand dukes and even executing countless nobles. For such a man to die in Goryeo—not even on the mainland, but in the recently conquered land of Yoyang?

"Great Khan, Goryeo is no longer just a side issue alongside Jin."

"We should set Goryeo aside for now. Taking Jin first is the right path."

The damage from Goryeo had been far greater than expected. The first invasion could be dismissed as mere coincidence, but suffering such losses in the second? And it wasn't as if Goryeo had stubbornly held out until the Mongol forces retreated—no, they had been annihilated again. Even then, the casualties were limited only because Subutai had split his forces into first and second armies. If the vanguard of fourteen hundred hadn't sensed danger and swiftly withdrawn, even those few thousand survivors would have perished.

Her father had insulted the Mongols, and now his daughter was annihilating their armies in utter humiliation. On top of that, this woman named Choi Yeon had the audacity to send a letter via prisoners.

In short: if they didn't want their empire's hard-earned reputation trampled further, they should stop charging in and stay quiet. For the Mongols, soaring toward their zenith, this was humiliation beyond measure.

"That insolent Goryeo wench dares... she dares!"

But there was nothing they could do, even if they wanted to. Over sixty thousand Mongol warriors had already buried their bones in Goryeo soil. And these weren't just any troops. Subutai's fifty thousand this time were elite forces mostly hailing directly from Mongolia, not auxiliaries scraped from Jin territories.

"Goryeo keeps insulting ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠us—what are we to do? If only the generals who served the previous Khan were still alive!"

Ogotai was referring to the Four Steeds and Four Hounds—the eight founding merits who had helped Chinggis Khan forge the Mongol Empire, likened to four noble steeds and four loyal hounds. Most were dead now, and even Subutai, the last survivor, had met his end in this war.

As tempers flared, a man with a dignified, heavy-set face stepped forward before the Khan. He was Yalu Choeje, the Mongol Empire's Chief Secretary of the Central Secretariat.

"Great Khan, even if Goryeo has won through a string of lucky breaks, they lack the strength to attack us! They've only defended so far—offense is another matter entirely, is it not?"

Goryeo might have taken light casualties, but they were busy stabilizing Liaodong. No one could imagine such rabble marching all the way to the Mongolian steppes. In truth, Goryeo excelled at defense but could never mobilize for an offensive deep into the plains—that much was certain.

"And so?"

"Defensive Goryeo is strong; that's an undeniable reality. If we marshaled our full national might to crush them, we wouldn't emerge unscathed either. Over fifty thousand haven't merely retreated—they died in Goryeo soil. Any more losses there, and the Mongol Empire's expansion will grind to a halt."

Pressing Goryeo now was pure loss. It explained why Jin hadn't attacked Goryeo despite destroying Northern Song, dismissing the Jurchens as beneath notice. Further assaults on Goryeo would only give Jin a chance to recover. Better for each to go their own way.

"Then what of Goryeo?"

"That they lack the power to strike the steppes is mere assumption. Who foresaw Goryeo repelling us twice? If they truly muster for a steppe invasion, even victory on our part would doom any eternal conquest of Jin. Great Khan, as humiliating as it is, we must send an envoy to Goryeo and sue for peace."

Indeed. Who could have predicted Goryeo blocking the mighty Mongol invasions? And if—if Goryeo actually raised armies for the steppes? The shame burned Ogotai. Father and daughter had mocked the empire in tandem, and he could do nothing. Goryeo was the empire's graveyard; they couldn't strike there for the next decade or more.

"Why must we bow? They should come crawling to us!"

Yes, he knew. Goryeo wasn't ordinary. Unlike puny Jin, they rivaled the Mongols in strength. But to lower his head like this? To leave unchallenged the Goryeo that defied Mongol authority?

"Goryeo never strikes first unless invaded. Recognize them, Your Majesty. Treat them as equals—that's all. Conquering such foes would hobble our other campaigns. Goryeo lacks the riches of the Central Plains or distant Khwarezm anyway. No need to waste strength on them."

Even if conquered, would Goryeo submit meekly? No one-sided massacres like elsewhere; they'd dig into mountain fortresses for prolonged sieges, dragging it out decades.

"Must I endure such humiliation in my reign?"

"It's not Your Majesty's failure. No nation is as tenacious as Goryeo. Emperors like Sui Yangdi and Tang Taizong invaded with massive armies and failed. Even Yoseongjong struggled against Goryeo in his Song conquests, and pre-Jin Jurchens submitted after Goryeo subdued them."

Goryeo was no pushover. Better abandon them and conquer elsewhere first.

"Then swallow that insolent letter mocking me?"

"That's precisely their aim—to weaken us and stall other conquests."

"So acknowledge them?"

Hate it or not, they had to. Cursed land of Goryeo. Better conquer elsewhere than bleed dry there.

"I'll go as envoy myself and bear all responsibility. Great Khan, finish subjugating Jin."

"So be it."

Over seventy thousand casualties. Mongols weren't numerous; population losses stung deeply. And these weren't mere fodder—pure Mongol elites, seventy thousand strong. Wasting more on Goryeo was folly. Ogotai knew he had no choice and reluctantly accepted Yalu Choeje's plea.

I'd sent Ogotai a taunting letter via prisoners—wonder if he enjoyed it? Not an official state missive, but a personal note, so I trust he read it like a love letter. Straight from Eulji Mundeok's poem to U Zhongwen, no less.

"Their Khan must be fuming," Kim Jun remarked.

I let out a scoff. "So what if they're angry? What can those bastards who lost seventy thousand in Goryeo even do?"

Ah, seriously—what could they possibly do? Every time I think about it, the sheer numbers dead make it a massive blow to the Mongols. Or maybe scrape up auxiliary rabble from Jin for another invasion? With Goryeo morale sky-high, we could crush such coerced cannon fodder easily.

But the Mongols wouldn't dare.

"That Subutai was quite the renowned general in Mongolia. He repelled our ambushes handily."

Kim Jun, who'd tied him down for a good while, held Subutai in high regard. Seems his Byeolcho troops annoyed Subutai plenty but couldn't inflict major damage.

"Subutai lost because he overthought it. He researched us thoroughly, craving a sure victory while preserving his Mongol troops. If I'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠been him, I'd have done differently."

"How so?"

Well, once in Liaodong, abandon any thought of retreat—fight to win or die. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Exploit mobility ruthlessly.

"Use speed to shake off pursuit from Yoyang Fortress, split into thousands-strong detachments scattered across Liaodong. Each claims to be Subutai's main force."

Shatter Goryeo armies, then besiege local fortresses demanding surrender in Subutai's name. Recruit troops from captured strongholds, then smash our inevitable pursuers. Sadly, Subutai figured breaking the wagon fort formation would let lures draw us in for annihilation. Not wrong, really. If we'd clashed head-on at Greater Khingan, win or lose, casualties would've been brutal. Lucky the landmines hit true, though.

Anyway, victory again. The second Goryeo-Mongol War reshuffled international dynamics. Commerce boomed around Yoyang, people and money flowing freely.

"We offer congratulations on your victory."

"We wish to live under Goryeo now—please, Abkai Hehe, accept us Jurchens."

"I'm no Abkai Hehe of yours. But if you follow me so faithfully, how could I ignore you?"

Even the Jurchens who'd been playing it safe now flocked to me. Those from northern Dongjin finally ditched caution, rushing to Yoyang to curry favor. Two straight victories. The first could be luck, but the second killed their top commander—whose head was shipped to Gaegyeong—while slaughtering tens of thousands more. This proved Goryeo's might. By raw power logic, Jurchens submitted.

Truthfully, this second war sealed Goryeo's hold on Liaodong.

I reported to Gaegyeong. They'd initially fretted over embracing Jurchens as subjects, but I'd warned: if Mongols took Jin, they'd absorb unimaginable populations. Forewarned, Gaegyeong had no choice.

Kim Gyeongson, promoted to Senior General for prior merits, took charge as Liaodong Regional Military Commander. Kim Yunhu, who'd ambushed relentlessly and effectively beheaded Subutai, declined Senior General and settled for Junior General. Ugaha earned Liaodong Regional Vice Military Commander for blocking the second army. Kim Jun beside me, seasoned by age, rose to general rank.

He'd always held an ambiguous post: tasked by Father to guard me, leading the U-bong Byeolcho as Byeolchodo-ryeong, nothing more. Now, formal general.

"Look at you, slave boy making it big." I smacked Kim Jun's back a few times. Grown so reliable, promotions and all. As a general now, he'd owe taxes, right?

"No joke, I thought I was dead. Those barbarians' swordplay was vicious—worthy of northern raiders who'd battered the Jin."

Other standout Jurchen officers got ranks per merit. Father, ever the power broker, distrusted Kim Gyeongson enough to check him by handing me—near-certain heir—full authority over Liaodong.

Kim Gyeongson might head Liaodong military, but I effectively ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠ruled Goryeo and Jurchen folk there, free to enact integration policies with after-action reports only. My Jurchen followers now hailed me as "Khan" in Liaodong—a title they'd eventually use, but with Mongols claiming Great Khan, they needed their own.

"Will the Khan not wed?"

"Khan? His Imperial Majesty reigns here— that could be treason."

Well, Khan and Emperor differed in name, but weren't nomadic Khans basically emperors?

"Just worried for you."

Marriage, huh. Should I? Seeing women strolling hand-in-hand with kids outside does spark curiosity. What if I had a child? Could I raise them right?

My aim? Republicanism, bluntly. No hereditary Choe dynasty. Still, marry? With Chunsim as nanny from Yoyang and village schools, child-rearing wouldn't be hard. But no suitable man anyway.

"Hm."

My eye caught Kim Jun sorting scrolls in the distance. Nah, even I draw the line there.