Loot the Japanese Supply Line
The forest air was thick with moisture, even though it wasn't the rainy season. I lay flat in the grass, steadying my breath. A trickle of sweat ran down my back, but I didn't dare wipe it away. Any movement now might tip them off.
This was a narrow gorge between Jinsan and Geumsan Castle in Jeolla Province. Sheer cliffs rose like folding screens on either side, with only a narrow path wide enough for two or three men abreast snaking through. It was what the art of war called a dead ground—the perfect ambush spot.
"Boss, my legs are cramping up bad."
Choi Ga, sprawled beside me, whispered with a grimace. The big lug looked like he was itching just lying there crumpled in the underbrush.
"Hold it in. Cramp up, and you might end up as jerky."
I growled low, putting the fear of god in him.
"General Gwak Jae-woo's intel solid? They coming through today?"
"That guy's not one for bullshit. And if they wanna cross to Jeonju, this is their only shot. We've already blocked the main roads."
I shifted my gaze downward. The gorge below was dead silent, save for the wind rustling the reeds.
But my senses picked up something else. A faint vibration. And a foreign stench carried on the breeze.
Horse shit. And sweat.
"They're coming."
At my words, Choi Ga and the Yiho Army ambushers around us sharpened their eyes. The playfulness vanished, replaced by the glare of predators eyeing prey.
Thud. Thud.
Footsteps echoed. Not one or two. Hundreds—no, thousands—shattering the gorge's stillness.
The vanguard appeared first. Japanese scouts in blue armor, scanning their surroundings warily. But their eyes stayed fixed ahead. No way they'd imagine men clinging to these sheer cliffs.
The scouts passed, and the main column emerged.
"Whoa..."
Choi Ga swallowed hard.
It stretched on forever, an endless line. Oxen and horses pulled carts piled high with rice sacks like mountains, followed by porters bent double under their loads like ants. Guards with spears and matchlocks were interspersed throughout. Even at a glance, the combat troops numbered over five hundred.
For a supply train, the security was tight. Meant it was valuable cargo.
All that was stolen from our people.
Rage boiled up inside me. Rice grown on Joseon soil, shoveled into Japanese bellies to fuel the killing of more Joseon folk. This shitty cycle ended here, today.
I raised my hand.
The signal.
The hundred stoners on the cliffs gripped their rocks. The two hundred assault troops in the woods readied their weapons.
When the column's middle hit the gorge's heart—most supplies and troops jammed in the narrow pass.
I pulled a Suru-tan (improved Bi-geok-jin-cheon-rae grenade) from my bosom.
"Gotta greet 'em proper."
I struck the flint. Hiss—the fuse spat like a serpent's tongue, eerie and sharp.
I stood and swung my arm wide.
"Gift for ya! Catch!"
The iron ball arced through the air.
The Japanese escort captain looked up. His face went blank at the black orb plummeting from the sky.
"Nani?"
His last word.
BOOM!!!
The blast rocked the gorge. His horse screamed and tumbled; nearby soldiers flew like leaves in a gale.
Just the opener.
"Chuck 'em! Roll 'em!"
Choi Ga bellowed, and boulders rained from the cliffs.
Rumble—crash!
House-sized rocks barreled down the slope, smashing carts, crushing horses, pulverizing men.
"Aaaagh!" "Landslide! It's a landslide!"
The Japanese panicked. No escape in the tight gorge. With front and rear blocked, falling rocks were apocalypse itself.
"Teppo! Teppo!"
Surviving officers roared, but the matchlock men were buried, scattered, or fleeing empty-handed.
"Now! Sweep 'em!"
I slid down the cliff like greased lightning.
"Waaaaah!"
Yiho Army burst from the woods, clubs, flails, and axes in hand.
I hit ground first.
Thud!
Dust exploded on impact. Three spear-wielding Japanese blocked my path, faces pale with terror.
"Lemme introduce ya."
I drew "Mi-sook-i" from my belt. Black ebony club, etched with blood-red "" (Mi-sook-ga-dan).
"This here's 'Black Sis'."
They gawked. I added helpfully,
"You punks don't get to say her real name. Call her Black Sis. Manners matter, even on the way out."
"Hiiiyaa!"
One stabbed in panic.
I didn't dodge. "Mi-sook-i!" I swung low to high. "hates injustice!"
Crack!
Spear shaft snapped like rotten wood. Momentum carried up to shatter his jaw. "And won't stand for it!"
Smack!
He flew airborne. I heard his jawbone crunch clear as day.
"Rude little shit. Pointing a metal stick at Sis?"
I spun, cracking the next's ribs. Armor? Useless. My monstrous strength plus ebony weight turned steel plate to foil. Ribs caved with the armor; he crumpled.
"M-monster!" "Run!"
They backed away. Rumors from Ichi Pass survivors: a 3-meter oni in iron hide stalked Joseon. That was me.
"Where you goin'? Pay your tab first."
I grabbed a runner's nape, swung him like a human club into the oncoming rush.
Crash!
They toppled like bowling pins.
One-sided slaughter. Terrain and surprise had broken their will. Yiho Army went wild, clubbing away.
"Die, you thieves!" "Give back my rice! Give Mom her rice!"
Their fury was righteous. Watching rice stolen while families starved flipped switches.
I plowed through the chaos. Target: not rice, their captain.
Mid-column, a mounted commander rallied defenses coolly.
That's the one.
I charged.
"Block him! Stop that brute!"
He drew sword, bellowing. A dozen elite guards encircled me.
"Who you callin' brute?"
I fished out my last Suru-tan. No time for fuse—just hurled it.
Whistle!
My shoulder launched it like catapult shot.
Splat!
It embedded in the lead guard's chest. Didn't even explode—his ribs caved anyway. Kinda brute, yeah.
"Wh-what?!"
I surged through the gap.
Mi-sook-i danced.
Shatter shins. Punch guts. Crush throats.
Fancy swordplay? Nah. Raw power and speed made technique irrelevant.
Breached the elites in seconds, faced the captain.
His face drained white.
"Y-you... who the hell are you...?"
"Yiho Company CEO, Kim Deok-ryeong."
I grinned.
"Here to repo the goods."
He roared, slashing down at my crown—perfect killing stroke.
I raised my left arm.
Clang!
Clear ring of metal. Blade bounced. Sword slipped from his grip; wrist dangled broken.
"Still don't get it? I'm Geumgang Bulgoe."
I yanked him off his horse by the collar.
"Come down and talk. My neck's killing me."
Flung him down. Tapped his helmet with Mi-sook-i.
"Where'd this rice come from?"
"......"
"Don't gotta say. Our people's, right?" He glared venomously, spat.
"It was fated for great Lord Toyotomi's army anyway!"
"Fate? Bullshit."
I raised Mi-sook-i to his eyes.
"Meet Black Sis."
"Heh... Bl-black...?"
"Yeah. You wouldn't know her. Met her recently myself. She's chill with newbies—no awkward intros."
I shoved the inscription close: blood-red "Mi-sook-ga-dan". Stroked it lovingly.
"To you lot, she'll be terror's Black Sis. One damn tough friend."
Held it to my ear, pretending.
"Huh? What, Sis? Oh... that guy's meat looks too tough?"
Eyed him. No flab like Damyang's magistrate—battle-hardened muscle.
"True. Chewy as hell. Won't even take teeth."
I smiled coldly.
"Hear that? Sis hates tough meat. Says gotta tenderize it first."
"Wh-what?!"
"Gotta pound chewy cuts soft. Bite down hard—no biting tongue."
I raised the club. Terror filled his eyes—he got it now.
"W-wait! I'm a warrior! POW treatment—"
"Yeah. Treatment. This is it."
Thwack!
Thigh strike.
"Gaaah!" "Aw, so happy you're squirming?"
Bone crunch mixed with screams.
"This is for the kidnapped rice."
Thwack!
Other thigh.
"Aaaagh! M-mercy!"
"This for stomping my land."
Stepped on his arm, smashed shoulder.
Crack!
"Oops. Bit your tongue anyway. Shut that mouth."
He writhed, pissing himself. Trousers soaked. No trace of the world-conquering commander's dignity.
"Aigoo... please... mercy..."
Tears and snot, begging.
"Better? Meat softening up nice?"
Tapped his cheek.
"Don't pass out. Plenty more to tenderize."
He foamed and blacked out. Limbs mangled, but alive.
"Tch. Weakling."
I trussed him like luggage. Trade bait or intel source later.
"All clear! Grab the loot!"
Yiho Army cheered.
Battle over. Time for fun spoils.
"Whoa, Boss! Look at this rice—endless!" "Silk here! Ming silk!" "Booze! Japanese booze!"
Every cart uncovered brought gasps. 1,000 seok army rice. 100 matchlocks. Dozens of powder kegs. Looted silver and jewels.
Jackpot. Fed Yiho Army a year, easy. Hell, whole Damyang.
"Seo the accountant'll faint."
I grinned, picturing Seo Baek-seol hugging sacks, eyes rolled back in greed.
"Casualties?"
"Just bruises! Surprise was total—they barely fought."
Perfect win. Guerrilla magic.
We marched home triumphant, hauling carts. Short on oxen, Yiho Army pulled—but no complaints. Rice and meat motivated.
Back at the village entrance, folks poured out.
"Deok-ryeong won again!" "Snatched all that rice!"
Starving peasants wept at the carts. To them, rice was lifelines.
"Share it out!"
I bellowed.
"Tonight, village feast! Eat till you burst!"
"Kim Deok-ryeong forever! Yiho Army forever!"
Cheers pierced the sky. I leaned on a cart, watching.
This was why we warred. Seeing my people full-bellied and warm.
Then Seo Baek-seol sprinted up. Eyes reddened at the rice.
"You mad bastard... you really stripped 'em clean."
"Promised I'd make you rich."
"Who wants rich? Just... come back safe."
She checked my arm. Slashed shirt, but no wound.
"Fine as ever. Just stitch the shirt—ask Mi-ryeong."
"Got it. Come eat. Got meat stir-fry."
That night, Damyang's inn blazed like day. Victory joy, bellies full.
But I knew. This win was fleeting.
Japanese would hit harder with supply lines cut. Next time, not haulers—real troops for revenge.
Don't care.
I polished Mi-sook-i, gazing at the stars.
Got food, weapons. They come, we loot again.
"Boss! Na Dae-yong's looking for ya!"
Choi Ga ran up, cup in hand.
"Why?"
"Made something huge! Hurry, he says!"
Na Dae-yong. Genius struck again.
I stood.
Long night ahead. But not cold or scary. Solid comrades beside, belly stuffed.
"Let's go. See what he cooked up this time."
I stepped off.