The Counterattack at Geumsan
Crack!
The club in my hand smashed into the Japanese soldier's helmet. The crumpling metal and shattering skull formed a gruesome harmony.
A heavy vibration traveled up my arm. Truly ebony wood. An oak would have splintered by now, but this thing was solid as an iron mace.
"Get out of the way!"
I kicked the collapsing body aside and pressed forward. The spear-wielding Japanese troops blocking my path recoiled in horror.
No wonder. Their intact formation had suddenly exploded, rocks had rained from the sky, and monsters had poured down from the mountain. Their command structure was already in ruins.
"Kill them! Don't let a single one escape!"
Choi Ga rushed past me, swinging his sickle. The Ikho troops were rampaging with glee. The sweat they'd shed in training was paying off in survival on the battlefield. They moved in groups of three, picking off the panicked Japanese soldiers one by one.
And that wasn't all.
"You filth! Did you think you'd defile Joseon soil and get away with it?"
An elderly man with flowing white hair swung his sword. It was Jo Heon. Just hours ago, this stubborn old scholar had been hell-bent on marching to his death. Now his eyes burned with killing intent, like an old tiger baring its fangs.
Slash!
Jo Heon's blade sank deep into a Japanese soldier's shoulder. I'd dismissed him as a civilian scholar, but his swordsmanship was impressive. So this is what they mean by grit and guts.
"Namu Amida Butsu! Off to hell with you!"
Beside him, Monk Yeong-gyu whirled his massive iron staff like a windmill. Japanese soldiers struck by the monk's weapon flew like scarecrows. For a disciple of the Buddha who forbade killing, the impact was brutally solid.
The tide of battle had fully turned in our favor. But the enemy wasn't pushovers. Their commander was Ankokuji Ekei, a daimyo who was once a monk. Fittingly, monk-soldiers in bizarre clerical robes over armor were mixed among the ranks, their shaved heads gleaming.
"Chon-sen-jin! Die!"
One monk-soldier charged me, swinging his naginata in an arc aimed at my throat.
I didn't dodge. I raised my left arm to meet the blade.
Clang!
A clear ring of metal. My skin, of course, was unscathed.
"Nani?"
His eyes bulged in shock at a man whose flesh a blade couldn't pierce. "What do you keep 'nani'-ing about? Yeah, I'm a bit tough. Right?"
I grinned and grabbed his collar.
"Does your Buddha teach it's okay to kill? Ours teaches proper discipline."
I gripped Mi-suk-i short and drove it into his solar plexus.
Thud!
He collapsed without a gasp, ribs piercing his lungs.
That was when it happened.
"Watch out!"
A scream-like shout rang out. I turned to see Jo Heon. Drunk on victory, he'd pushed too deep. Three Japanese matchlock gunners hid behind a boulder, barrels trained on him, ready to fire.
Bang! Bang!
Gunpowder smoke billowed.
"No!"
I kicked off the ground. Too far. I couldn't shield him in time.
But Jo Heon didn't fall. A massive shadow blocked him—Monk Yeong-gyu. The monk had thrown himself over Jo Heon.
Thump! Thump!
Dull impacts of bullets burying into flesh. Yeong-gyu staggered, blood soaking his robes. But he didn't collapse. Instead, he gritted his teeth and hurled his iron staff.
"You bastards!"
Whoosh—crash!
The staff flew, pulverizing one gunner's head.
"Monk!"
Jo Heon cried out in alarm, supporting Yeong-gyu.
"I'm fine. Just grazed me. This is... a mere scratch."
Yeong-gyu laughed heartily, but his face was pale. He'd avoided vitals, thankfully, but continuing the fight was impossible. The Japanese, smelling blood like hyenas, began swarming.
"Kill that old man! He's the leader!"
They wouldn't miss the opening. Spotting the wounded commander, they surged forward en masse. Gleaming blades rushed toward Jo Heon and Yeong-gyu.
"Damn. These old-timers sure need babysitting."
I readjusted my grip on Mi-suk-i and charged. I bulldozed through anyone in my way—shoulder-checking, kicking, smashing with the club.
"Outta my way! All of ya!"
I roared like a tiger, carving through the enemy ranks. Just as blades reached Jo Heon's nose—
Clang!
My Mi-suk-i deflected a Japanese sword, snapping it and sending it flying.
"Y-You... Deok-ryeong?"
Jo Heon looked up at me in astonishment.
"Old man, please stay put for once. You trying to die or what? I saved your ass, so why crawl back in?"
I grumbled, shoving them behind me. A dozen Japanese soldiers encircled me.
"What's this guy?" "Oni! The oni with the black club!"
Rumors from Ichi Pass had spread here. Seeing me, they froze in terror. The three-meter giant whose skin blades couldn't pierce stood before them—legs trembling was natural.
I slung Mi-suk-i over my shoulder and glared.
"Take a good look. This is your future."
I leaped into their midst. Spinning whirlwind shot... or rather, spinning club bash.
Whoosh—thwack! Crunch!
A 360-degree swing felled them like autumn leaves. Armor crumpled, bones snapped in rapid succession. Heads split, limbs twisted—bodies flew everywhere.
"Monster! Run!"
Their morale shattered. Ankokuji Ekei, grasping the dire situation, was already retreating with his main force toward Geumsan Castle.
"Don't pursue! They'll hole up inside, and we can't take it!"
I halted the excited Ikho troops itching to chase. Geumsan Castle was formidable. Charge without siege gear, and we'd get shredded by matchlocks and arrows from above. A cornered rat bites the cat.
This was victory enough. We'd annihilated their ambush unit and rescued 700 righteous soldiers. A resounding success.
"Battle's over!"
My shout ended the fighting. The field echoed only with groans and the stench of blood.
I wiped Mi-suk-i's blood on the grass and approached Jo Heon. Yeong-gyu was being bandaged by the troops. He seemed out of immediate danger.
Jo Heon stared blankly at the smoldering Japanese camp.
"Old man. You hurt anywhere?"
He slowly turned, eyes glistening.
"We... won... We won..."
"Yeah. We won. Overwhelmingly."
I grinned.
"Told you, didn't I? Winning beats dying. What's the point of a name in death? Living to ring victory bells—that's true patriotism."
Jo Heon's shoulders shook. A lifelong Confucian scholar trapped in ideals of righteousness. To him, war meant "sacrifice for loyalty." But today, he'd seen it: the thrill of victory from gunpowder, tactics, and overwhelming force. And the relieved faces of his surviving men.
"They're alive... My soldiers are going home alive..."
He grasped my hand with trembling, wrinkled fingers. Rough, but his grip held sincere gratitude.
"Thank you... Deok-ryeong."
His voice choked.
"Without you, we'd be ashes today. My stubbornness... my folly nearly killed innocent people."
"Aw, c'mon, don't lay it on so thick. You're embarrassing me."
I scratched my head. The grumpy old man turning meek like a lamb was weird. I'd prefer his scolding.
"You were right."
Jo Heon met my eyes squarely.
"Winning is patriotism. Living to cut one more enemy head—that's loyalty. I was too old to see it. A bookish scholar prattling about strategy—shameful."
He suddenly tried to kneel.
"Whoa! What're you doing?!"
I panicked, hauling him up. A renowned Joseon scholar—old enough to be my father—bowing to me? Rumors would brand me unfilial.
"You didn't save me—you saved Joseon's spirit. You're the true hero defending the nation."
He wouldn't release my hand.
"I swear it. No more objections to your plans. Court or scholars be damned—I'll be your shield. My remaining life is yours."
Solid backing. Not just 700 troops—I'd gained political support from a heavyweight like Jo Heon.
This guy's fiery temper even scared court officials. If he backed me with the guts to petition the king axe-in-hand? Most plots wouldn't stick. When King Seonjo later suspected me, this old man would be my strongest shield.
Then cheers erupted from the base of the mountain.
"Hooray!"
Ikho troops and righteous soldiers linked arms, shouting cheers. Different origins, different statuses—but today, blood brothers in battle. They bandaged each other's wounds and shared water.
"Boss! Raided their supply tent—more rice!"
Choi Ga yelled excitedly.
"More rice? Our warehouse is gonna burst."
I let out a happy yelp. Victory, recruits, supplies. No better deal.
"Alright, let's withdraw!"
I hoisted Mi-suk-i high.
"Back to Damyang for a feast! Gotta treat Monk Yeong-gyu, and Jo Heon here's footing the bill!"
"Me? Ha! I'll empty my coffers for it!"
Jo Heon boomed with laughter.
"Hooray!"
We descended the mountain singing triumphantly. Dawn broke. The rising sun lit our path. The blood-soaked Geumsan valley seemed purified by morning light.
The Miracle of Geumsan. History books would rewrite this. The people of this land would forever remember that battle—the day 700 lives were saved, despair turned to hope.
Supporting Jo Heon, I thought.
Ichi and Geumsan. Two great victories. My name would now reach beyond Honam to the court. In this chaotic era with the king fled, no power rivaled a winning general's.
June 1592. Joseon's counterattack was now an unstoppable wave, ready to swallow the Japanese pirates.