The Storm is Coming
Time flew by like an arrow—no, like a volley of matchlock bullets.
Before they knew it, the cold winds had died down, and sap rose in the dry branches. Forsythia bloomed wildly along the Damyang River, and the foothills of Chuwolsan began to blush with azaleas.
Spring of 1592, the Year of Imjin. The most brutal—and the hottest—spring in Joseon history had arrived.
Inn's backyard. The forge's heat showed no signs of cooling.
"Hey! Number Three's left wheel axle is stiff! More oil!"
Na Dae-yong's bellow echoed thunderously. He was less a scholar now and more a perfect site foreman. Sleeves rolled up on his grease-stained robe, hammer in hand—it suited him a hundred times better than a brush ever had.
At the end of his gaze crouched three black monsters.
Hyunmu Units One, Two, and Three.
The prototype Unit One was just bulky and crude, but after repeated refinements, Units Two and Three had evolved into sleek killing machines.
Thick wrought-iron armor was studded densely with nails to keep enemy soldiers from climbing aboard, and the front featured a goblin-faced ram for extra destructive power. But the biggest change was in firepower.
"Cannon mounting complete!"
Choi Ga shouted from the front hatch of Unit Two.
Inside the dragon-head-shaped gunport, Na Dae-yong's painstakingly cast "Hyunja Chongtong" was secured in place. Smaller than the massive Cheonja Chongtong siege cannon, but a mid-sized piece with mobility and devastating power.
Mount this on a cart and fire it? The kind of thing even the Joseon navy handled with kid gloves for fear of capsizing their ships?
But Na Dae-yong had done it. He'd installed shock-absorbing leaf springs (layered bamboo and iron) on the cart bed and lowered the center of gravity to tame the recoil. A genius was a genius, after all.
"Good. This'll knock their formations down like bowling pins."
I rapped the armor on Unit Three. It rang out with a deep thunk.
"Boss, what's a bowling pin?"
"It's a thing. You roll a round ball and knock 'em all down."
"Oh, like polo?"
"Close enough. This time, we'll roll these iron beasts instead of a ball and topple the Japanese bastards."
The yard buzzed with the Yiho Army troops moving purposefully.
What started as thirty ragtag misfits had swelled to three hundred elite soldiers. Local thugs from nearby towns, remnants of mountain bandits, even fallen samurai scholars who'd heard the rumors and come knocking.
They were no longer mere porters or lowly laborers. From dawn till dusk, they drilled formations and maneuvers, mastering the modern individual combat and bayonet techniques (spear work) I'd taught them. They were killing machines now.
"One! Two! Three! Thrust!"
"Hrah!"
Shouts shook the Damyang earth.
Their eyes burned with life. Well-fed, well-trained, brimming with the confidence that we are strong.
This was promising. We couldn't stop a frontal assault by 150,000, but the moment those bastards set foot in Honam, we could make them cough up blood.
Then Seo Baek-seol approached, face grim. A small note clutched in her hand.
"It's come."
Short words. Immense weight.
"Busanpo?"
"Yes. Urgent message from the Busan inn."
Seo Baek-seol handed me the note.
The Japanese from the Waegwan packed their belongings overnight and vanished. Not an ant in sight. The calm before the storm.
Waegwan evacuation. The surest sign that war was imminent.
"That ninja was right. Cherry blossoms falling, he said?"
I looked up beyond the wall. Cherry blossom petals, blooming profusely, drifted down like snow on the wind.
Beautiful. All the more cruel for it. Once this flower rain stopped, blood would fall on this land.
"Timeline?"
"Three to five days, probably. Two weeks at the latest."
Seo Baek-seol's voice trembled faintly.
"It's really... war, isn't it? Can we stop them?"
I gripped her shoulders tight.
"We're not stopping them. We're winning."
I turned.
"Na Dae-yong! Choi Ga! All officers, assemble!"
My shout plunged the inn into stunned silence, then chaos.
Inn's main hall. Top brass gathered around a massive map.
Na Dae-yong, Seo Baek-seol, Choi Ga, even Mi-ryeong handling medical.
All eyes locked on my fingertip.
"You heard? Japs are packing up. Just a matter of them sailing over now."
I jabbed Busanpo on the map.
"They'll land and steamroll north. Gyeongsang defenses? Don't count on 'em. They'll crumble in no time."
"The regular army that weak?"
Choi Ga sounded incredulous.
"Not weak. Unprepared. Those bastards are war maniacs who've been hacking at each other for a century. No head-on fights."
I slid my finger west. Gyeongsang-Jeolla border.
"Their first goal's Hanyang, but for supplies, they'll hit Honam. Breadbasket and all."
My finger crossed rugged mountains, stopping at two points.
"Ichi and Ungchi."
Gates to Jeonju via Jinsan and Geumsan Castle. The passes where Generals Gwon Yul and Hwang Jin had staked their lives in history.
"That's where we go."
"Huh? Leaving Damyang empty?"
Seo Baek-seol blinked in surprise.
"Waiting here's too late. Let 'em take Jeonju Castle, and all Honam falls. We plug the narrow mountain paths first."
I eyed Na Dae-yong.
"Brother. Hyunmus mountain-mobile?"
"Reinforced wheels handle rough terrain fine. Pullers'll drop dead, though."
"Our boys'll manage. Gotta earn their keep."
I scanned the room. "Dawn tomorrow. Pack everything—grain, weapons, powder. Leave nothing."
"The inn? Our shop?"
Seo Baek-seol pouted. This wasn't just a business to her; it was her blood and sweat.
"Shop over life? Win the war, I'll build you a bigger tiled mansion. Promise."
"......For real? No backing out, or boss or not, you're done."
"Yeah. Kim Deok-ryeong swears it."
Then Seo Baek-seol's eyes sharpened.
"Then I'm going too."
"What? Why you?"
"Who manages funds? Rations? You lot'll blow it all and starve. My money, I guard it."
She had a point. No logistics, no army.
"Me too."
Mi-ryeong raised her hand.
"Lots'll get hurt. Medical team's needed."
"It's dangerous..."
"Sending you alone's riskier."
Her resolute gaze left me raising hands in surrender.
"Fine. Stick right behind me. Got it?"
I turned to Na Dae-yong. "You?"
"I'm in."
Na Dae-yong said calmly.
"Solid. Rear's yours alone, brother."
Meeting adjourned. They scattered to tasks.
Night deepened. The inn bustled with mobilization prep. Packing crates, weapon checks, footsteps to bid families farewell.
I sat on the yard's platform. Half-moon hung overhead.
It's finally starting.
Heart pounded. Fear? Or thrill as a history buff standing at history's pivotal moment?
"Drink?"
Seo Baek-seol approached, gourd and two cups in hand.
"Booze? March tomorrow?"
"One cup's fine. And... night like this, letting it pass feels wrong."
She sat, poured. Moonlight danced in the cups.
"Thanks."
She blurted it out.
"For?"
"Everything. Chasing off debts, saving the shop... being our rock."
Her cheeks flushed. Not just the booze.
"Too early for thanks. Post-war, I'll make you a true magnate. Worship me then."
"Tch. Big dreams."
She pulled something from her bosom. Folded garment. Thickly padded red silk quilting—a makeshift bulletproof vest (armor substitute).
"What's this?"
"Made it. With Mi-ryeong and the kids, nights on end. Can't watch you fight bare-chested anymore."
She held it to my frame.
"Not steel, but tough silk layered dozens deep. Stops most arrows. Wear it. Promise?"
Chest warmed. Reminded me of my past-life wife tying my tie for work.
"Thanks. I'll wear it well."
Then Mi-ryeong shuffled up shyly.
"Um... Uncle."
"Yeah, Mi-ryeong? Not asleep?"
She bowed deeply, small cloth pouch in hand.
"This... a talisman."
"Talisman?"
"From the temple. Keeps arrows and blades away. Carry it."
She tied it to my belt. Fern-like hands trembled.
"Don't get hurt. You have to... live."
Tears welled in Mi-ryeong's eyes.
"No worries. I don't die. Geumgang Bulgoe, remember?"
I stroked her hair. Seo Baek-seol, no jealousy this time, hugged Mi-ryeong's shoulders.
For these women, I had to win. And survive.
"Cheers. To our victory."
I raised my cup; the two women, and Na Dae-yong and Choi Ga—when'd they arrive?—followed.
"To victory!"
Five cups clinked under the moonlight.
Next dawn, before first light, the Yiho Army mobilized.
"Whole army, march!"
At my shout, the massive column lurched forward. I led, in red padded silk, club and talisman at waist, bow slung on back.
Behind, three Hyunmu land turtle ships rumbled with roars. Three hundred Yiho troops marched in formation. Followed by supply carts led by Seo Baek-seol and Mi-ryeong—grain, powder, medicine piled high, rattling toward the battlefield.
Na Dae-yong waved from the gate. "Good fortune!"
Villagers lined the road to see us off. Some wept, some waved.
"Deok-ryeong! Come back alive!"
"Take care of my boy!"
I waved without looking back.
Then—
"Deok-ryeong."
Familiar voice. I turned. Big brother, Kim Deok-hong. Beside him, sister-in-law with red-rimmed eyes. Arms crossed, he stared. No topknot or robe today; straw sandals, bare feet.
"Brother."
I halted the column, prostrated fully before him.
"I'll go and return."
He didn't raise me. Just accepted the bow silently. Rising, I saw his eyes moist.
"Never thought you'd shoulder something this big. Figured you just herded local thugs."
He gripped my shoulder—over the red silk—hard. Hands shook.
"Be careful. Battlefield's no schoolroom. One slip, you're gone."
"I know."
"Don't get cocky 'cause you're good in a brawl. And..."
He paused, then pressed: "Come back alive. Clan glory, saving the nation—fine. But I won't lose my brother."
Not the strict scholar Kim Deok-hong. My blood brother speaking.
"I swear. I'll wipe out the Japanese seed and stand tall before you."
I bowed to sister-in-law. She dabbed tears with apron, offered rice-ball bundle.
"Don't starve, young master. It's all I can do."
"I'll eat well, sister-in-law."
Chest burned hot. Past life, I was a lonely breadwinner. Died alone. Now? Comrades who believed, family who cared, people to protect—at my back.
This war, I can't lose.
I left brother and sister-in-law, resumed the lead.
"Let's go. Hunting time."
Wind shifted. Southern breeze carried a fishy tang. Sea... and blood.
They're here.
Instinct whispered. Black sails blotting Busan Bay ahead, like visions.
History flows. But humans bend its course.
April 13, 1592. The Imjin War's curtain rose.