The Man in Red
"Captain! A general in red clothes riding a white horse has appeared, slicing through the Japanese heads left and right!"
The marketplace gukbap stall. Rumors swirling among the refugees were ominous yet strangely mystical.
"They call him the Red-Clad General. He pops up out of nowhere, and the Japanese are calling him a ghost."
"They say he drops from the sky like lightning?"
I stirred my gukbap and chuckled softly. Sure, the stories were fattened up with exaggeration, but I had a pretty good idea who it was.
Kwak Jae-woo. The first righteous army commander of the Imjin War, a genius of guerrilla tactics.
From my past life's historical knowledge, he was from Uiryeong. He poured his own fortune into raising a volunteer army, roamed the battlefields in red silk robes, and chilled the Japanese to their bones.
Show-off... no, the guy's got real star power.
Wearing red into battle? It was like begging to get killed, an advertisement for every enemy around. Surviving in that meant his skills were the real deal.
"Captain, you hear about this?"
Choi Ga asked, crunching on some kimchi.
"Yeah. The Red-Clad General?"
"Yes. They say Gyeongsang Province is a wasteland, but that guy's holding it down solo. Kinda like us, right?"
"Kinda. Except we're eating like kings."
I set down my spoon.
"Still, I'm curious about the situation over there. The Japanese supply lines have to run through that way."
The Japanese main force had pushed toward Hanyang, but the follow-up troops and supply units would cut through Gyeongsang into Jeolla. If Kwak Jae-woo was blocking that route, it was like gaining a heavenly army of ten thousand.
Just then, a commotion erupted at the inn's entrance.
"Who goes there? State your business!"
Shouts from the Yiho soldiers on watch. I stood up.
"Looks like we have a guest."
Stepping into the courtyard, I saw a ragged-looking man surrounded by soldiers. He was dressed like a beggar, but his eyes burned sharp and fierce.
"I'm a messenger from Uiryeong! I seek an audience with Commander Kim Deok-ryeong!"
The man pulled a letter from his bosom. It bore a red seal.
"Let him through."
At my word, the soldiers parted. The man approached and bowed politely.
"I come at the command of General Kwak Jae-woo."
"Long journey. You eaten?"
"...Three days without a bite."
"Choi Ga, whip up a bowl of gukbap. Extra special."
The man devoured the gukbap the moment it arrived, gulping it down without chewing. Only after scraping the bowl clean did he belch and hand over the letter.
To the Tiger of Honam, from the Red Fields of Yeongnam.
The enemy's momentum rages fierce; Yeongnam burns like a sea of fire. With my meager forces, I grasp at their ankles in Uiryeong and Changnyeong, but we are outnumbered. Word reaches me of a tiger-slayer in Damyang, Honam. I seek alliance. If you share my will, meet at the Sumjin River ferry.
The opening was poetic. The content was concise.
An alliance proposal. No reason to refuse. No—this was a hand we had to grasp. If Yeongnam fell, Honam would be isolated. Kwak Jae-woo holding the line meant I could breathe easier.
"Date?"
"Three days hence, at noon."
"Got it. Tell him I'm coming."
After sending off the messenger, I headed to Na Dae-yong. He was wrestling flames in the forge as usual.
"Brother, busy?"
"Swamped. Making iron spikes for the turtle ship treads—ten hands wouldn't be enough."
Na Dae-yong hammered away, sweat pouring like rain.
"Take a break. Got a favor."
"What now? Another crazy invention?"
"A gift."
"Gift?"
"Meeting a friend. Can't show up empty-handed. Something flashy, explosive."
I explained the meeting with Kwak Jae-woo. Na Dae-yong's eyes lit up.
"Kwak Jae-woo... that red-clad wild man? Haha, birds of a feather, eh?"
"I'll take that as a compliment. Got anything to scare the shit out of the Japanese? Powder-based."
Na Dae-yong stroked his goatee, pondering.
"Funny you ask. I've been tinkering. The Bi-gyeok-jin-cheon-rae that Firearms Commander Yi Jang-son made."
Bi-gyeok-jin-cheon-rae. Joseon's ultimate timed bomb.
"Perfect. Can you make one?"
"I know the principle. Pack gunpowder and iron shards in a round iron canister, wrap a wooden fuse to time the blast. Problem is launching it—needs a daewan-gu mortar, too heavy to carry."
"Make it throwable by hand."
"By hand? That beast?"
Na Dae-yong stared like I'd lost my mind. The thing was a solid iron hunk, heavy as sin.
"I'll throw it. Far."
I rolled my shoulders.
"Ah... yeah, you could."
Na Dae-yong chuckled.
"Deal. I'll customize for your grip strength. Smaller size, but high-concentrate powder."
He got right to it. Melted iron, poured into a mold, cooled into a round gourd-shaped canister. Packed it with our dung-cart black powder and sharp iron fragments.
Then the key: the fuse. Bamboo tube with twisted wick, topped with a cog-like wooden cap.
"Twist to set wick length. More turns, longer delay; fewer, quicker boom."
"Timer, nice."
"Time... what?"
"Nothing. Perfect."
I hefted the finished Suru-tan. Solid, like a bowling ball. Fit my palm just right.
"Name?"
"You throw it... Bi-gyeok-deok-ryeong-rae?"
"Too corny. Call it Suru-tan."
"Hand grenade? Simple enough."
Gift ready. I'd told Seo Baek-seol I'd be gone a few days. She nagged—"Off shooting trouble again?"—but packed jerky, onigiri, even emergency cash.
"Don't get hurt. Inn feels empty without you."
"No worries. Mi-suk's watching her."
"Aigoo, Mi-suk this, Mi-suk that—folks'll think she's your wife."
I chuckled. Strapped Mi-suk to my waist, slung the bundle of Suru-tan over my back.
Three days later. Sumjin River ferry.
The water flowed lazily, reeds swaying in the breeze. Hard to believe war raged—peaceful as a painting.
But sharpness hid in the stillness.
"You've arrived."
A voice from the reed thicket.
A man emerged. Crimson silk armor blinding as fresh blood, white horse at his side. Pale face, neat beard, eyes a wild mix of madness and reason.
The Red-Clad General, Kwak Jae-woo.
A dozen ragged volunteers in rough clothes stood guard behind him, sickles and bamboo spears at ready.
"Kim Deok-ryeong of Damyang."
I bowed politely.
"Welcome. You know my name."
Kwak Jae-woo laughed heartily, approaching.
"The monster who bare-handedly smashed a tiger, shattered a government stone lantern, and ground a thousand Japanese to dust—you?"
"Rumors exaggerated. Not a thousand. Maybe one fifty?"
"Haha, humble? Or just a braggart?"
He sized me up. My bulk, the black club at my waist—his eyes narrowed.
"That the famed Mi-suk?"
"Yes. My... partner."
"Says you crack Japanese helmets with a wooden stick. Gotta see it to believe."
A challenge. Testing my mettle.
I scanned around. A massive boulder by the river, man-height granite.
"Words are cheap. Watch."
I dropped the bundle, approached the rock.
"This thing's an eyesore. Mind if I move it?"
"Go ahead."
Deep breath. Drew Mi-suk. Ebony gleamed in the sun.
One Strike, Certain Kill.
Qi surged from dantian to arms. Muscles swelled, clothes straining.
"Hup!"
Ki-yah! Swung.
Boom!
Thunder cracked the riverbank. The boulder shattered to dust. Fragments skipped across the water like stones.
"...!!"
Kwak Jae-woo's eyes bulged. His men gaped. Human strength pulverizing rock?
I dusted my hands, turned back.
"Proof enough?"
"Ha... hahaha! Monster! A real monster!"
Kwak Jae-woo clapped, roaring with laughter.
"Approved! With a beast like you guarding Honam, my heart's at ease!"
He clapped my shoulder heartily.
"Sit. Drink."
We spread mats by the river, faced off. He poured from a gourd.
"Yeongnam status?"
"Hell. Officials fled, Japanese flags everywhere. Folks hide in the hills."
His face darkened.
"But we lurk in the mountains, tormenting them. Torch their camps at mealtime, arrow their asses mid-shit. No sleep for the wicked—that's my tactic."
Guerrilla textbook. Can't win straight-up? Bleed 'em with psych ops and ambushes.
"Brilliant."
"One issue: firepower shortage."
He sighed.
"Bows and spears hit limits. They shoot matchlocks; we're chucking rocks. Any tricks?"
"Got one. Brought it."
I unpacked. Round iron balls rolled out.
"What're these? Iron orbs?"
"Suru-tan."
"Su... ru-tan?"
"Hand-thrown pomegranate. Portable Bi-gyeok-jin-cheon-rae."
"That mortar-fired one? By hand?"
"I throw far."
I picked one up.
"Demo time."
Twisted the cog for five seconds. Flint-struck the wick—hiss.
"Get down!"
Stood, sprinted, hurled at the opposite cliff.
"Hya!"
Soared like a comet, arced over the river, embedded mid-cliff.
BOOM!!
Deafening blast. Rocks tumbled, dust billowed. River churned.
"Whoa..."
His men collapsed in awe. Kwak Jae-woo speechless. Cannon-free, man-powered apocalypse at that range.
"Good? Blows supply wagons sky-high."
"Incredible... truly. This firepower—no fear of hordes."
He caressed a Suru-tan, awed.
"Share some? Pay top nyang. Looted plenty."
"Keep your money. Instead..."
I unrolled a map.
"Share intel. Japanese routes, supply spots. Yeongnam's a black hole."
"Deal! Info's our specialty. My boys blanket the ridges."
We huddled over the map, plotting.
"To cross to Jeonju, they take this path. I'll block here; you cut supplies from behind."
"Done. Not a grain gets through."
Allied. Yeongnam's Red-Clad General and Honam's Tiger. Two oddballs unite.
"Cheers. For Joseon."
"For Joseon!"
Clinked cups.
Sun dipped. River ran red, our faces flushed too.
Before leaving, Kwak Jae-woo asked,
"Your dream? After the war?"
"Business. Open an inn, sell gukbap, take wife's nagging. That's the life."
"Hahaha! Modest for a war god."
He mounted, laughing.
"Survive. I'll hit your inn for gukbap."
"Waiting. No tabs."
Red robes fluttered away. I stood till his hoofbeats faded.
Solid. A comrade guards my back. War's terror halved already.
Packed remaining Suru-tan.
"Time to go."
Back home, scale up. He cuts supplies; I hunt the starved.
Next: Japanese 6th Division supply train to Geumsan Castle. Hands itched for Suru-tan payback.
May 1592. War heated; our prep ripened.