Victory Dispatch, and Harsh Reality
The aftermath at Ichi Pass after the battle looked like a massive slaughterhouse. The air reeked of thick, metallic blood, but the faces of the Yiho Army lads were all beaming with grins.
"Captain! Check out this armor! The shine on it's killer!"
"What about this sword? The edge is so sharp blue it'd still cut even if it rotted!"
The guys were busy looting corpses without a care. Matchlock guns, armor, rations, silver coins the Japanese had abandoned... everything scattered around was money.
"Grab what you need and clean up. We've gotta head down before sunset."
I sat on a rock, fiddling with the broken handle of my bat, lost in thought.
Immature One.
My first custom weapon, the soul partner that had shattered the magistrate's spirit. I'd picked the toughest oak and carved it myself, but it couldn't last a single day before snapping in two.
"What a shame. It fit my hand perfectly."
No ordinary wood could handle my monstrous strength. And scavenging some random iron pipe? No feel to it. I needed something tougher, heavier.
That's when Seo Baek-seol approached. She glanced at the broken stick in my hand and clicked her tongue.
"All brute force and no finesse. Wood's not gonna last with you."
"Can't be helped. You think trees that can take my power grow on every street corner in the eight provinces?"
"Hold on. I'll find something decent."
Seo Baek-seol headed to the wagons. A moment later, she came back grunting, hauling something heavy.
It was a dark red-black log that looked incredibly dense.
"This... isn't this ebony wood?"
My eyes widened.
"You know your stuff? I got it off a Ming merchant with a lot of hassle. Sinks in water, hard as iron—been saving it for furniture."
Seo Baek-seol tossed the log to me.
Thud.
It was heavy. The density—two or three times that of regular oak—transmitted straight to my fingertips. Iron-like texture, but with that unique wooden springiness.
"Carve this one. If you snap it too, we'll have to pour molten iron next time."
"Oh... thanks. I mean, thanks, Baek-seol."
I pulled out my dagger and started whittling right there. Scrape, scrape. The wood was so hard the blade barely bit in. But against my grip strength, ebony was just a bar of sculpting soap.
Soon, a smooth, glossy black six-foot bat was complete. It gleamed like a black pearl, far more refined and menacing than the old Immature One.
"Mi-ryeong!"
I called, and Mi-ryeong came scampering over from handing out water to the troops. The kid moved like a squirrel—pretty impressive.
"Yes, Uncle! You hurt anywhere?"
"I'm fine. Redo the inscription on this one."
I held out the new bat.
"What should it say this time?"
"Same as before. Wouldn't want my partner's name changed."
I grinned.
"Miseok Gadan. The unripe can be forged. Beat the greenhorns till they ripen."
Mi-ryeong nodded and pulled out her brush, carefully inscribing it with devotion.
Unripe Can Be Forged
(Inscribed in blood-red cinnabar on glossy black wood)
"Perfect. From now on, your name's Black Miseok-i."
I tucked Miseok-i into my belt. The solid weight anchored my waist. This one could smash ten Japanese helmets easy.
"We're pulling out! Time for makgeolli!"
"Woooah!"
We loaded the wagons with spoils and descended the mountain in triumph.
The village was in festival mode. Word of wiping out a thousand Japanese at Ichi Pass spread like wildfire. Refugees unpacked their bundles and collapsed in relief; others cheered Deok-ryeong's name.
The inn courtyard hosted a massive feast. They slaughtered pigs and cracked open liquor jars.
"Captain! Have a shot!"
Choi Ga, face flushed, offered a cup.
"Sure. Good work today. That flash bomb you threw? Pure art."
"Heh heh. All thanks to Master Na Dae-yong's craftsmanship. Boom! And the bastards couldn't even open their eyes."
The Yiho Army lads were deep in tall tales. "I smashed a Japanese helmet with my club—crack, it shattered!" "Yeah? I spun my spear and sent three flying!"
A bit of exaggeration, but their eyes burned with pride. We did it. Shattering the terror that "Japanese are invincible" for these defeatist Joseon folk was victory enough.
Na Dae-yong was in high spirits too, downing drinks nonstop.
"You see Hyunmu's power? Matchlock balls pinging off—music to my ears! I made it, but it's a masterpiece."
"Next time, more gunports. Side-firing too."
"Deal! Let's make it a porcupine!"
Cups clinked, songs flowed. For a sweet night, even the war faded.
But.
That sweetness didn't last.
"Aigoo... aigoo..."
Wailing echoed from the village edge. The drunken revelry froze like it'd been doused in ice water.
I set down my cup and stood.
It was a refugee column. But not like the earlier ones. Clothes scorched, bodies bloodied. Eyes hollow, like they'd stared into hell.
"Elder, what happened?"
I approached, and the old man clutched me, sobbing.
"It's over... all over... the country's fallen..."
"Calm down and tell me."
"Chungju... at Tangumdae... General Shin Lip lost... Joseon army annihilated!"
The Tangumdae defeat. Where Joseon's elite cavalry was massacred.
My heart sank. History hadn't changed. While I won at Ichi, tragedy struck Chungju.
"What about... Hanyang?"
Seo Baek-seol asked, voice trembling.
"The king's... fled... abandoned the capital for the north..."
King Seonjo's flight. Abandoning his people.
Every face in the yard went ashen.
"Whoa, the king ran?" "What about us? Who's gonna protect us?"
Hope flipped to despair in an instant. Folks drunk on victory moments ago now shook in terror of abandonment.
"Lies! The king wouldn't abandon us!" "We're done... Japs'll come here next..."
Chaos erupted. Some packed to flee, others collapsed weeping. Even the Yiho Army wavered. Trained soldiers or not, news of the kingdom's fall shakes anyone.
Can't let this stand.
If morale crumbled here, it was over. Fear spreads like plague, crumbling organizations.
I grabbed Miseok-i and leaped onto the platform.
Bam!
I slammed the bat down. The boom silenced the uproar.
"Quiet!"
My roar shut mouths. Hundreds of eyes fixed on me—fear, resentment, a flicker of hope.
I scanned them slowly.
"The king fled? Yeah, true. Hanyang fell? Probably. So what? Are we dead?"
"......"
"King runs, but we're still here. Your families, homes, lands—they're right here. Run where? Hide in mountains eating roots till you starve? Or stick your necks out for the Japs?"
I raised Miseok-i. Red letters flashed under torchlight.
"We won today. Smashed a thousand Japs. Regular army lost? We won!"
Choi Ga clenched his fist. Na Dae-yong nodded.
"King abandons us? We protect ourselves. My family, I guard. That's a patriarch's job—a real man's duty."
I raised my voice.
"I'm staying. King goes to Uiju or Ming? I'll defend my home Damyang. Fight with me? Stay. Scared? Go. No hard feelings."
Silence. No one moved.
Nowhere to run anyway. And here stood the hero who'd slain a tiger and crushed Japanese.
"I'll stay too."
Mi-ryeong raised her hand quietly.
"Me three. No place to go—might as well eat here."
Seo Baek-seol crossed her arms.
"I'm sticking. Not budging till my turtle ship finishes."
Na Dae-yong bellowed a laugh.
"Captain! Where we goin'? We won with shit gear—we'll go to hell together!"
Choi Ga and the Yiho Army roared.
"Kim Deok-ryeong forever! Yiho Army forever!"
Cheers exploded anew. Not drunken this time—fierce resolve for survival.
I clenched my fist, watching them.
Yeah. History unchanged. But I'll change this land's fate.
I'll fill the void Seonjo left. Not rebellion. Survival.
"Eat! Drink! Real war starts tomorrow!"
"Woooah!"
The feast resumed. But the air was different. Fear gone, eyes sharp as blades.
I looked to the night sky. The northern horizon glowed red.
Wait up, you bastards.
Taking Hanyang ain't the end. Now it's true hell mode. Time for Joseon's spicy kick.
My Miseok-i gleamed black under moonlight. Tomorrow, more skulls to crack.