The Iron Wall of Ichi Pass
The sound of the enemy commander's skull shattering was the signal flare.
The Japanese troops, who had frozen for a moment, charged forward with roars of fury. It wasn't rage at losing their leader—it was the terror that if they didn't kill the monster before them, they themselves would die.
"Kill him! Gang up on him!"
It sounded like screams in Korean, not Japanese. They thrust spears and swords at him from all sides.
Kim Deok-ryeong readjusted his grip on Misuk-i, the black ebony club. Its heavy weight settled reassuringly into his palm.
"Fine. Come at me all at once."
He spun in place like a human top, channeling the torque from his hips to maximize centrifugal force.
Whoosh!
The air ripped apart with a deafening crack that battered his eardrums.
Thwack! Crunch!
Four Japanese soldiers encircling him flew backward simultaneously. Their armor crumpled, bones shattered—the sounds harmonizing in a gruesome symphony.
"W-what the hell is that?!"
The ones behind recoiled in horror, halting in their tracks.
His old oak club might have splintered under the strain. But the black ebony from Seo Baek-seol was different—harder than iron, with a unique elasticity that flung the impact right back at the enemy.
"As expected from black Misuk-i. The feedback's on another level."
He slung the blood-smeared club over his shoulder and grinned.
"Next batter up."
But instead of rushing him, the enemies turned their gaze rearward. There, an even greater despair was barreling down.
Rumble—thud! Thud!
Three Hyunmu land turtle ships were accelerating down the slope.
"Stop them! Block those wagons!"
The Japanese matchlock gunners fired in unison.
Bang-bang-bang!
Hundreds of lead balls rained down. But the Hyunmu didn't slow. The bullets striking their thick wrought-iron armor simply flattened and dropped harmlessly to the ground.
Ting! Clang!
"It doesn't work! It's iron hide!"
Terror-stricken Japanese soldiers rushed forward with spears, aiming to jam them into the wheel gaps.
But Hyunmu wasn't just any wagon. It was a killing machine designed by Na Dae-yong and approved by Kim Deok-ryeong himself.
"Porcupine formation—deploy!"
Choi Ga's voice boomed from inside Hyunmu No. 2.
Clank.
From the undercarriage beside the wheels, razor-sharp blades sprang out—spinning in sync with the tank's rotation. A perfect recreation of the chariot wheels from Ben-Hur.
Slice! Slice!
The legs of approaching soldiers were severed clean off.
"Aaaagh! My leg!" "Don't get close! It'll shred you!"
In Hyunmu's wake, a trail of blood and flesh paved the road. It was the ultimate mobile fortress—and meat grinder.
Gwon Yul, who had been watching from the government troops' lines, snapped to attention and bellowed.
"Those iron beasts are your shields! Hide behind and loose arrows!"
A true master general. He grasped the situation instantly. Exhausted soldiers, slumped on the ground, rose and advanced in Hyunmu's shadow. With the tanks absorbing all the gunfire, they could safely draw their bows.
Twang! Twang!
Joseon arrows poured down on the enemy ranks. Tanks plowed ahead, arrows flew from behind, and in the center, Kim Deok-ryeong wreaked havoc with his club.
The Japanese lines began to crumble.
"Push! Tonight we're feasting on their rations!"
The Yiho Army went wild with excitement. They moved in teams of three: one shielding with a buckler, the other two thrusting with long spears and iron hooks. The modern drill training he'd taught them was paying off.
"Kill 'em! They're the rice-stealing bastards!"
Their obsession with food was terrifying. To the Yiho troops, the Japanese weren't just invaders—they were mortal enemies who had kicked over their rice bowls.
Kim Deok-ryeong read the flow of battle. Victory was in hand. But the enemy numbers were still vast. Kobayakawa's main force remained intact. If they regrouped, things could get dicey.
He needed to drive the wedge home.
Just take out the boss, and it's over.
His eyes locked on their headquarters, where the commander's banner fluttered. An old general in ornate armor directed from horseback.
Kobayakawa Takakage. The cunning strategist who dominated Japan's Warring States era.
Without a hint of panic, he rallied his men, reorganizing the defenses. He pulled back the matchlock units and pushed spear walls forward to halt the Hyunmu charge.
"Stay calm! They're few in number! Surround and immobilize the wheels!"
At Kobayakawa's command, the Japanese reformed ranks. A formidable foe indeed.
But he overlooked one thing: Hyunmu wasn't the only wildcard on this field.
"Bro! Now!"
Kim Deok-ryeong shouted, and the hatch of Hyunmu No. 1 popped open. Na Dae-yong emerged wearing goggles, torch in hand.
"Taste this, you monkey bastards!"
He touched the torch to the wooden box on Hyunmu's back.
Sizzle—
Singijeon rocket carts. Arrows tipped with gunpowder packs.
Whoosh! Fwoooom!
A hundred fiery arrows rocketed skyward with thunderous roars, trailing white smoke—like modern multiple rocket launchers.
"W-what is that?!"
Kobayakawa gaped at the sky.
The arrows arced perfectly into the heart of the Japanese headquarters.
BOOM! KABOOM! Explosions scattered shrapnel as the powder ignited.
"Aaaah! Fire!" "Lightning from the heavens!"
Flames erupted amid the blasts. Armor caught fire, powder pouches detonated. The regrouping HQ turned to rubble.
"Now! Follow me!"
Kim Deok-ryeong raised Misuk-i high and charged. Target: Kobayakawa.
Any who blocked him were blasted aside.
"Outta my way!"
Thwack!
Each swing sent men flying. He blocked sword thrusts, snapped spears. He was a human tank.
"Protect him! Guard the lord!"
Elite guards charged desperately, slowing him but not stopping him.
"Black sis is comin' through!"
He whirled Misuk-i like a windmill, smashing their formation. Bones and flesh sprayed.
He reached Kobayakawa. Ten paces away.
The old general drew his sword, eyes fixed on him—curiosity and thrill outweighing fear.
"You're the one who raided my supply lines and called down thunder."
"That's me. Kim Deok-ryeong of Damyang. Remember it."
"Impressive. Who knew Joseon had a warrior like you."
Kobayakawa spurred his horse. A head-on clash. No evasion.
But Kim Deok-ryeong had no intention of crossing blades. Time was precious.
He pulled his last Suru-tan grenade from his bosom.
"A gift. Take it."
He lit the fuse and lobbed it under the horse's hooves.
"What—?!"
As Kobayakawa glanced down—
BOOM!
The horse reared with a scream. The blast hurled Kobayakawa to the dirt.
"Urgh!"
The old man groaned, trying to rise—but Kim Deok-ryeong's shadow already loomed.
He raised Misuk-i.
"Surrender. I don't like hitting old folks."
Kobayakawa wiped blood from his lips and chuckled bitterly.
"Surrender? A samurai knows no surrender. Take my head."
He closed his eyes and bared his neck. Gutsy, at least.
But Kim Deok-ryeong had no plans to kill him. A live prisoner was worth more than a dead general.
"Nah, keep your head. Just take a nap."
Crack!
He smashed the old man's jaw. Kobayakawa crumpled unconscious.
"Got the enemy gene—!"
As Kim Deok-ryeong shouted and moved to bind him—
"Protect the lord! Stop him!!"
Dozens of red-eyed warriors charged like madmen. Kobayakawa's elite guard. Instead of swords, they threw themselves bodily at him.
"Get off me?!"
Knock one away, two latched on. Shake off two, three grabbed his limbs.
"Hurry! Get the lord out! Now!"
The guard captain spat blood, screaming. Meanwhile, aides hoisted the unconscious Kobayakawa onto a horse, stabbed its flank, and fled.
"You stubborn bastards!"
Kim Deok-ryeong shook them off. They rained down like shed leaves. He stomped past, pursuing—but the horse was already kicking up dust down the mountain.
"Damn. Slipped away."
He spat on the ground. That level of loyalty, even from Japanese dogs, was respectable.
"Retreat! All forces, fall back!"
With their general escaped, the remaining Japanese fled like an ebbing tide.
"Waaaaah!" "We won! We did it!"
Yiho Army and government troops embraced, cheering. At Ichi Pass, the Japanese blade aimed at Honam's throat had been broken.
Kim Deok-ryeong slung Misuk-i over his shoulder, watching the routed enemy backs.
Lucky bastard.
With a wired jaw, he wouldn't chew for a while. Letting him live would amplify the fear.
"Next time we meet, I'll take your head for real."
He turned toward the government lines.
Gwon Yul stood dazed, covered in blood. Hwang Jin slumped, gasping. They stared in disbelief at him—and the halted Hyunmu.
Kim Deok-ryeong strode up and bowed formally.
"Damyang righteous army commander Kim Deok-ryeong, at your service, General."
Gwon Yul was speechless for a long moment, then gripped his shoulder with trembling hands.
"Are you... truly human?"
"Human, sir. A rice-guzzling Joseon human."
"Ha... hahaha!"
Gwon Yul burst into mad laughter.
"I've lived my life as a warrior, but I've never seen a monster like you. What thousands of government troops couldn't do, you and those iron wagons accomplished."
He bowed his head.
"Thank you. Without you, Jeonju would be ashes. Letting their general escape is a pity, but crushing their momentum is victory enough."
"No need for thanks. You held the line, letting us strike from behind. This was teamwork."
"Humble too. So, what's next? Want an official post?"
"No thanks. I prefer freedom."
He gazed down the mountain.
"And it's not over yet."
"Eh? What do you mean?"
"Geumsan."
He pointed northeast.
"Intel says another Japanese force is heading there. And a righteous army unit is en route too."
Jo Heon and Yeong-gyu. 700 volunteers. History said they'd all shatter like jade at Geumsan Castle.
"We have to save them. Can't let them die."
Gwon Yul's eyes widened.
"You're going now? Aren't you tired?"
"Used some energy, but food fixes that."
He grinned.
"Yiho Army! Regroup! Eat and roll out!"
"Yes, sir!"
They responded with vigor. Victory had made them tireless.
Kim Deok-ryeong bowed to Gwon Yul once more.
"Cleanup's yours, General."
"You... really..."
Gwon Yul, moved, couldn't continue.
Kim Deok-ryeong walked away without looking back. Na Dae-yong called while inspecting Hyunmu.
"Boss! Wheels are creaking. You sure?"
"Lube 'em up. It'll hold to Geumsan."
"Heh, your stamina's a national treasure."
They moved out again. No time to bask in triumph. To avert history's tragedy, he had to run once more.
Wait for me, old man Jo Heon. I'll drag you back by the hair if I have to. I'll show you dying ain't patriotism.
His Misuk-i gleamed red in the sunset. It would drink more blood tonight.