Chapter 31. Kobayakawa's Fury
"Bakana! (Impossible!)"
Crash!
A priceless celadon vase shattered against the ground. A shard grazed the cheek of the kneeling adjutant, but he didn't so much as flinch.
The air inside the tent hung heavy. A murderous tension choked the space, making even breathing a struggle.
Kobayakawa Takakage, commander of the Japanese Sixth Army—a veteran of countless battles—had a face flushed crimson with rage. Veins bulged at his neck, and the fan gripped in his hand trembled as if it might crumble to dust.
"The supply train was annihilated? All that rice and weaponry just vanished?"
"Y-yes, sir! According to the survivors..."
The adjutant stammered, sweat beading on his brow.
"A kuroonna—a black woman—called down lightning from the sky, and demons wrapped in iron hides appeared to slaughter everyone..."
"Kuroonna? Demons? These idiots are spinning ghost stories on the battlefield!"
Kobayakawa yanked his sword from its scabbard and slammed it down on the table.
Crack!
The thick wooden table split clean in two. The blade's sharp ki seemed ready to shred the tent itself.
"No excuses! Trying to blame a defeat against Korean rabble on female ghosts and demons—it's a disgrace to the samurai! Commit seppuku! Rip open your gut and atone right now!"
He rampaged like a madman. The situation was dire. No—catastrophic.
At the war's outset, they'd swept through like an unstoppable tide, seizing Hanyang. Korea was weak, its king a fleeing coward. Marching on Ming seemed only a matter of time.
But supplies had become their Achilles' heel.
Word arrived that their navy, attempting to round the southern coast into the Yellow Sea, had been crushed by some Korean named Yi Sun-sin. With the sea route blocked, land lines were essential—yet even those had been severed in the mountainous Geumsan region by some unidentified monsters.
"Starving soldiers can't fight. We need to seize Jeolla Province—and fast. Take Jeonju Castle, claim the Honam granaries."
Kobayakawa snarled, glaring at the map.
The path to Jeonju. A rugged mountain range loomed like a folding screen.
Ichi Pass. Baeti Pass.
"We break through here. Scouts report Korean regulars entrenched there."
"But General, the terrain is treacherous, the path too narrow for a large force. And the enemy commander is Gwon Yul—a formidable foe."
The staff officer offered cautious counsel.
"Doesn't matter! If the path is narrow, blast through with firepower! Lead with the arquebus units—I'll take the elite vanguard myself!"
Kobayakawa's eyes gleamed with feral hunger. He was a starving wolf.
"Anything blocking my path—demon or kuroonna—I'll cut them all down. March! We cross the pass before sunset!"
Dong—dong—dong—
War horns echoed through the mountains. Over ten thousand Japanese troops mobilized. A colossal wave of killing intent blanketed the peaks. Endless ranks of black-armored warriors marched onward. Their sole target: Ichi Pass, the final gateway to Jeonju Castle.
—
"Fire! They're crawling up!"
Atop Ichi Pass, the Joseon regulars' defensive line was in ruins.
Gwon Yul bellowed in a hoarse voice. His armor was soaked in blood, his helmet lost, the blade in his hand chipped to a saw's edge.
"No arrows left! Roll rocks!"
Hwang Jin rallied the men, shoving boulders over the edge.
Rumble—boom!
A few Japanese soldiers were crushed beneath the tumbling stones, but the horde behind them was endless. Like furious waves, they trampled their own dead and kept climbing.
Crack-crack-crack!
Arquebus fire popped like roasting beans. Joseon troops huddled behind wooden shields dropped one by one. The flimsy barricades splintered under the barrage.
"Agh! Mercy!" "General! We can't hold! Retreat!"
An aide grabbed Gwon Yul's arm, voice breaking. Morale had collapsed; officers were beheading deserters just to maintain the line, but it was the breaking point.
Gwon Yul ground his teeth. The metallic tang of blood filled his mouth.
Retreat here, and Jeonju falls. Jeonju lost, and all Honam—the kingdom's breadbasket—is plundered. The war ends.
"No retreat! We die here! Take one more with you!"
Gwon Yul nocked an arrow, drawing the bowstring. His fingers split open, blood streaming, but he didn't stop.
Twang!
It pierced the throat of a lead Japanese officer. A master archer. But for every one he felled, ten more crested the ridge.
Outnumbered and outmatched. Holding ten thousand with fifteen hundred was impossible from the start.
"Damn it... where's the reinforcements...?"
Gwon Yul cursed the heavens. The court had fled, local magistrates sought only their own skins. Isolated, no aid came.
The Japanese finally smashed the barricades, surging in. Blades flashed blue.
"Die, Korean dogs!"
A Japanese soldier swung at Gwon Yul. He parried, but the force staggered him back. An aging general couldn't match a young warrior's vigor.
Is this the end?
Gwon Yul squeezed his eyes shut. A commander's failure to defend the realm. Pathetic, but he accepted it. No face to show the late kings in the afterlife.
Then—
Kuoooooh!
A earth-shaking roar erupted behind him. Thunder? No—a landslide?
The ground quaked. Vibrations climbed through their soles—anything but ordinary.
Both sides froze mid-fight, turning toward the sound. Swinging samurai, thrusting spearmen—all petrified.
From the ridge behind the Joseon lines atop Ichi Pass, dust clouds billowed, veiling massive shadows.
Three ironclad behemoths. Followed by hundreds of burly men.
"W-what the hell is that?" "Allies? Enemies?"
The regulars buzzed. Not Joseon uniforms. Nor Japanese. Ragged hemp garb, but their aura was fiercer than any regulars.
A colossal figure strode forward from the front. Red padded jacket, bow slung on his back, black club at his waist.
Kim Deok-ryeong.
He scanned the battlefield. A hellscape of blood and corpses. His eyes didn't waver—instead, they gleamed like a predator spotting prey.
He approached the stunned Gwon Yul.
"Good work holding out, old timer."
He flashed a grin.
"You look beat. Time to take a break."
"W-who are you? Reinforcements?"
Gwon Yul's voice trembled.
"Kim Deok-ryeong from Damyang. Sorry we're late—took a bit rounding up the gear."
Deok-ryeong turned and gestured back.
"Clear the way! Main event's stepping up."
At his words, the behemoths lurched forward.
Kirrrrk-grind!
Heavy metal groaned as wheels rolled. Hyunmu. Three land turtle ships aligned, nosing toward the downslope.
"What—what is that?! Iron wagons?!"
The Japanese below stirred in confusion. The unprecedented sight rattled them.
"Push!"
Deok-ryeong's roar was the signal.
Inside the Hyunmu, the Yiho Army propulsion teams strained every muscle to spin the wheels. Three-ton iron masses accelerated down the incline.
Rumble—crash!
"Gaaah!"
The Hyunmu plowed into the Japanese vanguard. Wooden barricades snapped like twigs, arquebusiers flew like pins. Bone-crunching cracks drowned the screams.
"Fire!"
Flames erupted from portholes on the fronts and sides.
Boom-boom!
Na Dae-yong's masterwork Hyunja cannons belched. Not solid shot—buckets of iron balls. A fan of steel rain turned the Japanese into sieves.
"Eek! What is that thing?! Bullets bounce off!"
Japanese gunners fired back in panic, but the Hyunmu's thick plating pinged the lead shot away. Iron-hide demons.
Mobile fortresses. Shock and terror unknown to the era.
"Waaah!"
Three hundred Yiho troops followed, roaring as they charged. Japanese katanas from Heuksan in hand, arquebuses on backs. No longer mere club-wielding thugs—elite, drilled soldiers.
"Mow 'em down! Earn your keep!"
Choi Ga led, scything with his sickle. The Yiho men went berserk with glee. Pent-up from days of drills, real combat unleashed them.
Gwon Yul and his regulars gaped. A dying battle flipped in an instant—into a one-sided slaughter.
"Those... are righteous army volunteers?"
Gwon Yul muttered in disbelief. They fought better than his regulars, with superior gear.
Deok-ryeong strode through the regulars, drawing his blackwood club, Misuk.
"Regulars, don't just watch—cheer from the back. We'll handle cleanup."
He sauntered into the enemy heart like a man out for a stroll, but killing intent bloomed with every step.
A Japanese officer blocked him. A samurai in ornate armor leveled his blade.
"What are you?! State your name!"
The officer barked in Japanese.
Deok-ryeong lifted Misuk instead. Crimson script on black wood flashed: (Misukga Dan).
"Name? Just your friendly neighborhood reaper passing through."
He murmured fluently in Japanese.
"Nice day for it. It's a beautiful life... asshole."
Splat!
The officer's skull burst, the sound echoing across Ichi Pass.
History shifted. The battle, fated for defeat, was being rewritten by Joseon's monster.
Kobayakawa's fury was next due for terror.