A Short Respite and Intelligence

"He's here! The captain's back!"

The shout from Choi Ga on watch at the watchtower echoed across Damyang. The inn's front gate flew open, and Mi-ryeong and Na Dae-yong came rushing out. Behind them, soldiers from the Yiho Army and villagers swarmed like clouds.

I sat on the roof of Hyunmu No. 1, waving. Trailing behind me were dozens of wagons loaded with rice, gunpowder, and iron ingots. Spoils from ransacking—no, receiving support from—Jeonju Castle.

I leaped down from the Hyunmu. My legs wobbled slightly on landing. After days of tension and exertion, fatigue had finally caught up.

"You okay?"

Mi-ryeong hurried over to support my arm.

"Yeah, just beat. Gotta wash up and crash."

"You worked so hard. I'll heat some water."

As Mi-ryeong reached to wipe my sweat with a towel, Seo Baek-seol hip-checked her aside and squeezed in.

"Move. Captain's thirsty."

She offered a cup of cool omija tea, floating with precious ice chunks.

"Drink this. Best for clearing the head."

"Thanks."

Gulping it down cleared my mind like a fog lifting.

"Na Dae-yong hyung! Got a present for ya!"

I yelled, and Na Dae-yong bolted to the wagons. He ignored the rice, fixating on the iron and gunpowder crates.

"Oho! Refined sulfur! And this iron... top-grade wrought iron from government forges!"

He rubbed an ingot against his cheek in ecstasy.

"With this, Hyunmu No. 4 and a hundred more suru-tan! Hell, I could even cast turtle ship cannons!"

"Use it all. If it's not enough, I'll snag more."

The inn courtyard turned festive again. They cooked rice from Jeonju Castle's stores and stir-fried meat.

I finally shed my armor—padded jacket—for loose cotton clothes. Lounging on the porch, staring at the night sky, it was hard to believe we were in a warzone.

Peaceful.

But I knew this peace was what I'd bought with our Yiho Army's blood and sweat. Fragile as glass, ready to shatter anytime.

"Uncle."

Mi-ryeong arrived with a tray. Samgyetang, steaming with a whole chicken and ginseng aroma.

"Eat this. I foraged herbs from the mountains and simmered it slow. Only caught one precious chicken..."

"Whoa, living large. Thanks, Mi-ryeong."

As I reached for a drumstick, Seo Baek-seol appeared with another tray. Spicy aroma hit first—grilled deodeok slathered in red sauce, piled high.

"Eat this too. Deodeok's mountain meat. Fuel up and smash more Japs."

She plunked it down next to Mi-ryeong's samgyetang. Wartime feast.

I grinned. Ordinary folk would freak at the portions, but for me, this was baseline. My Geumgang Bulgoe body guzzled fuel like a gas hog; one chicken was barely an appetizer.

"Eat it all. Leftovers mean a fine." "Uncle, you ignoring my effort?"

Sparks flew from the women's glares. This the legendary catfight? A luxury my past life never offered, but my mouth watered anyway.

"Don't worry. I never leave food."

I shoved the whole chicken in, crunching bones with monstrous strength. Then a heaping chopsticks of deodeok.

"Choi Ga! More rice—big pot!"

I let out a happy yelp. Needed a whole vat ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠to fill up.

Choi Ga lugged over a rice pot, chuckling.

"Captain, you got a beggar—or monster—in your gut? Eating like you starved for days."

"Shut it, punk. No watch tonight?"

"Chun-sik's got it."

Seeing them banter idly meant tension had eased. Fair enough; after nonstop grind, a few days off was due.

Sweet rest followed for days. I dialed back training, gave troops maintenance time—weapons polish, mending clothes, letters home.

But I couldn't rest. Body recovered, mind raced.

Next target?

Blocked Jeonju. Blocked Geumsan. They'd scout new routes—another path from Gyeongsang to Jeolla, or coastal landing.

Needed intel. Know thy enemy to move first.

"Mi-ryeong."

I called ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠her from ledger work.

"Yes, Captain?"

"Any ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fresh rumors? From merchants or refugees."

Mi-ryeong wasn't just bookkeeper anymore. Her knack for memory and insight made her my intel officer, sifting traveler gossip.

"Yeah. Weird ones circulating."

She pulled crumpled papers from her bosom. Scribbled in cryptic script.

"What's this?"

"Japanese. Not exactly like you taught, but I get the gist."

"Where from?"

"Choi Ga-oppa nabbed it from shady peddlers. They suicided before questioning."

I took the papers. Cursive Japanese, hiragana and hanja mixed.

A chill ran down my spine. Hanja alone painted the picture.

"Sea routes cut. No food incoming. Means Admiral Yi Sun-sin's shredding them."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Look: 'Yi Sun-sin is a demon.' They're quaking."

I slapped my knee. His Okpo victory wasn't just one win—it severed their supply lifeline. Starved troops weaken, get desperate.

"More?"

"This seems key. Red seal."

Mi-ryeong handed the last.

"This... Kobayakawa Takakage's orders."

I chuckled bitterly.

"Vengeance. Still sore from Ichi Pass ass-kicking. 'Kill the Black Ghost'? Black demon, huh."

They dubbed me Black Ghost—wielding the black rice flail.

"They're not retreating. Just catching breath."

To refill bellies, avenge humiliation—they'd charge harder.

"Good work. Huge intel. High-five."

I ruffled her hair.

"No money. One wish."

"Shoot."

"War over... flower viewing, just us?"

"Flower viewing? Easy. Deal."

"Promise! Pinky swear!"

She hooked pinkies, thumb-stamped. Blushing cutely.

That night, as all slept.

Knocks at the inn gate. Thud, thud, thud—urgent yet controlled rhythm.

I grabbed Heukmi-suk and went out.

"Who?"

"From Naju. On important business."

Naju? Na Dae-yong's hometown.

I unbarred. A satgat-hatted man entered. Merchant garb, but hidden dagger and taut build screamed trained soldier.

"Kim Deok-ryeong?"

"That's me."

"Jeolla Left Naval Command officer Song Hui-rip."

Left Naval? Yi Sun-sin's man? What now? Stunned briefly.

"Come in. But why here? For Na Dae-yong?"

Song removed his hat, wiped sweat.

"Yes. Checked his Naju home—gone. Heard rumors of iron turtle in Damyang hills. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Admiral said, 'Dae-yong's tinkering with turtle ships there,' and sent me posthaste."

Spot on. Yi Sun-sin knew Na Dae-yong's obsession. Pegged him from 'iron turtle' talk.

"Right place. Inside."

I led to Na Dae-yong's room. He carved models late.

"Who at this hour?"

"Visitor. For you."

Song bowed politely.

"Na Dae-yong. On Left Naval Commander's secret orders."

"Song? How'd you...?"

Na Dae-yong jumped up. Old acquaintance.

"Admiral seeks you."

Song drew a silk-wrapped letter from deep inside. Sealed: Jeolla Left Naval Commander.

Na Dae-yong's hands shook unfolding it. Eyes raced; face turned grave, resolute.

"What’s it say?"

He set it down, exhaling.

"Turtle ship's almost done, but short iron armor and materials. Time tight. Send plates ASAP."

"Big deal. Prep now." Song eyed him seriously.

"And... a personal request."

"What?"

"Swords."

"Swords?"

"Pair of battle-ready twin swords for the field. Government blades too soft, can't handle his strength. Trusts your smithing."

Lightning struck my mind.

Twinsword Dragons. Yi Sun-sin's legendary field blades, lost in colonial era—known only from photos. Maker unknown.

Now commissioned to Na Dae-yong.

"This... fate."

I muttered.

"Fate?"

"I'll help. I’ll forge them."

"You? No smith?"

"Not smith, but I handle iron. Your skill, my strength—Jo-seon's finest."

I clenched fist. Forge for the Saint, Yi Sun-sin. Pride swelled.

"Agreed. Let's craft a sword worthy of his valor. Heaven's blade."

Na Dae-yong's eyes blazed.

Song bowed in relief.

"Grateful. Admiral'll rejoice. Time short—hurry."

"No worry. My life on it."

Song vanished into night. No delay for security.

Left alone, we locked eyes wordless.

War paused, but just wind-up for storm.

Sea hero, land monster—linked by a blade.

"Hammer harder tomorrow, Captain."

"Brace. Might rip the forge posts."

Dawn crept in. New task awaited.

Twinsword Dragons. Twin dragons soaring. Time to forge the legend.