Twin Dragons Find Their Master (2)
Five days had passed since sending off Brother Na Dae-yong.
The Damyang inn was still buzzing with activity. The frame of Hyunmu No. 4 was rising steadily, and the recruits' shouts from the Ikho Army echoed over the walls.
I lay sprawled on the porch, staring blankly at the sky. My body was here, but my mind felt adrift far away, out on the waters off Yeosu.
'Did they make it there safely?'
The Jeolla Left Naval Command. Where Admiral Yi Sun-sin held command.
The supplies I'd sent, and the Twin Dragon Swords. Would they please the admiral? He wouldn't have tossed them aside with a "What the hell is this crap?" would he?
"Nah, no way. How prettily did I deck out our little Gyeom-yang-i?"
I stroked the ebony club Mi-sook-i as I muttered to myself. She felt heavy in my hand, as if she missed her friend too.
That was when it happened.
"Boss! He's back! Lord Na Dae-yong is here!"
Choi Ga's voice boomed from the watchtower.
I bolted upright. Without even properly slipping on my straw sandals, I dashed to the front gate.
There, in the distance, a dust-covered procession approached. They'd left loaded with cargo, but now the carts were empty. Yet Na Dae-yong, perched atop the lead horse, beamed like he'd conquered the world.
"Brother!"
"Boss! I'm back!"
Na Dae-yong leaped from his horse. We embraced like we'd rehearsed it, crushing each other in a bear hug. He smelled of sweat, dirt, and a faint tang of the sea.
"How'd it go? The admiral? The swords?"
I fired off questions like a machine gun, and Na Dae-yong burst into laughter.
"Give me a breather, will ya? Let me down a cup of water, and I'll spin you the tale."
Seo Baek-seol and Mi-ryeong gathered, along with the Ikho Army officers. Everyone's eyes sparkled, fixed on Na Dae-yong's mouth like kids awaiting a fairy tale.
Na Dae-yong gulped down a bowl of cold water, then opened his mouth with a grave expression.
"That day, the waters off Yeosu were shrouded in thick fog..." His arms and legs flailed like he was painting the mist, dancing out the scene.
(Na Dae-yong's Recollection)
The defenses of the Jeolla Left Naval Command were ironclad. After the victory at Okpo, the entire camp stood on a razor's edge, braced for Japanese retaliation.
"Halt! State your identity!"
Sentries crossed their spears, blocking the supply train.
"I'm Na Dae-yong from Naju. Here on orders from the Left Naval Commander to deliver supplies."
Officer Song Hee-rip had come out to meet them. He nodded, and the firmly shut gates creaked open.
As the dozen or so carts rolled into the parade ground, the training sailors buzzed with murmurs. And why not? Every cart flew a flag reading [Gift from Damyang Righteous Army Commander Kim Deok-ryeong].
"Unload the cargo!"
At Song Hee-rip's command, the covers came off.
"Whoa!"
Gasps erupted from the sailors. Top-grade wrought iron gleaming in the sunlight. Iron plates for turtle ships. Barrels of jet-black gunpowder, bone-dry and pristine. And mountains of rice rations.
"Wh-what is all this? From the magistrate?"
"Nah, from the righteous army commander."
"Kim Deok-ryeong from Damyang? The guy who took down that tiger?"
The quartermaster rushed over, prodding a rice sack, his eyes welling up.
"Top quality! Not a speck of rot! This'll fill our navy's bellies proper!"
Na Dae-yong puffed out his chest. He hadn't made it himself, but pride swelled as a comrade.
And then, from the heart of the camp where the admiral's flag whipped in the wind, he emerged.
Yi Sun-sin. Tall and sturdy. His eyes were calm as the deep sea, yet they held a storm vast enough to swallow fleets.
Na Dae-yong held his breath. No matter how many times he saw him, that hero's aura never grew familiar.
"You've arrived, Dae-yong."
The admiral's voice was low but resonant with power.
"Yes, Admiral. I've carried out your orders."
"Well done. The road here—was it perilous?"
"With Kim Deok-ryeong guarding the roads of Honam, not even an ant could stir."
"Kim Deok-ryeong..."
Yi Sun-sin gazed at the flags on the carts. A faint smile touched his lips.
"I've heard the name. He held Ichi Pass against the Japanese and saved the righteous armies at Geumsan Castle. Well deserving of the title 'Shield of Honam.'"
"A gift from him to you, Admiral."
Na Dae-yong drew two silk-wrapped bundles from his bosom. One long, one slightly shorter. The Twin Dragon Swords.
The admiral unwrapped them. Black ebony scabbards. No flashy ornaments, but an air of refined elegance.
Shing—
He drew the main blade. The sword sang. A clear, piercing ring sliced through the parade ground. Icy chill wafted from the blade in the sunlight. On its mirror-smooth surface rippled the wave patterns forged by countless hammer strikes.
"......!"
Yi Sun-sin's eyes widened. As a warrior, he knew the instant he gripped it—this was no ordinary steel.
"Heavy... yet it fits my hand like an extension of my own arm."
He read the inscription on the blade.
(Cheonchu Gijang)
He nodded. Then he drew the shorter auxiliary blade.
Shring.
This time, a sharper ring. He turned it to read the opposite inscription.
(An-bun ji Jok)
Yi Sun-sin's brow twitched. Far too modest, Confucian phrases for a blade that would carve through battlefields.
"Who inscribed this?"
Na Dae-yong swallowed hard before answering.
"It's the will of Righteous Army Commander Kim Deok-ryeong."
"His will?"
"Gyeom-yang ji Deok means 'bow your heads to the enemy, or I'll lop them off.' An-bun ji Jok is a warning: 'know your place and don't covet others' land.' And with the heart of sending off a foster daughter, he named that sword 'Gyeom-yang-i.'"
A moment of silence. Then—
"Hahaha!"
Admiral Yi Sun-sin let out a hearty laugh. The usually stern Left Naval Commander's outburst startled the surrounding officers into stares.
"Amusing. Most amusing! Pretending decorum while striking at the bone. That fellow and I share a wavelength."
The admiral gripped the twin blades and slashed the air. Whoosh! Whoosh! The hefty swords danced like feathers.
"Excellent. Truly excellent."
He sheathed them with a satisfied smile.
"I feel the soul of the maker. Godlike craftsmanship in steel. The finest sword I've seen in my life."
"The makers will rejoice to know you've taken a liking to them."
"I owe you and that Kim Deok-ryeong a great debt. I'll wash these blades in Japanese blood to honor your intent."
Yi Sun-sin called for his aide, Song Hee-rip.
"Hee-rip. Fetch that thing from my quarters."
"That, sir?"
"Yes. When you send a foster daughter, the prospective son-in-law can't arrive empty-handed."
Son-in-law? Na Dae-yong doubted his ears. The admiral wasn't one for jokes.
Moments later, Song Hee-rip returned with a long case. A black-lacquered bow and a quiver brimming with arrows.
"This is..."
Na Dae-yong gasped.
"The bow I used to pass the military exam. Saved my life on the battlefield more times than I can count."
Yi Sun-sin's beloved bow. No mere weapon—it held his very soul.
The admiral started to hand it over, then paused. He stroked the bowstave, lost in thought.
"Hold on a moment."
He drew a small dagger from his belt.
"That fellow sent 'Gyeom-yang-i,' so courtesy demands a reply in kind."
Scratch, scratch.
Without hesitation, he carved into the black-lacquered bowstave, revealing the pale wood beneath. His own handwriting, inscribed on the spot.
Na Dae-yong watched, breathless. Each stroke brimmed with power.
"There."
The admiral held up the bow.
(Ja-chwi Myeol-mang)
"What... does it mean?"
Na Dae-yong asked, and Yi Sun-sin smiled faintly.
"A reply to his 'Gyeom-yang ji Deok.' 'Ja-go Ja-dae'—for those who strut too high and mighty."
The admiral's eyes gleamed coldly.
"'Ja-chwi Myeol-mang'—a warning they'll bring their own doom."
Na Dae-yong shivered. Deok-ryeong's blade demanding humility, Sun-sin's bow punishing arrogance. The two heroes' philosophies rhymed perfectly.
"Deliver this to Commander Kim Deok-ryeong."
"But Admiral, this is far too precious..."
"He deserves it. A man who slays tigers can draw a bow like this."
Only then did the admiral hand over the bow.
"Tell him: I'll guard the seas, so he handles the land. Pierce the Japanese hearts—or better yet, that spot—with this bow."
"That spot...?"
"Since time immemorial, hit a man there, and he'll double over in submission. Humility follows naturally."
The admiral chuckled. Na Dae-yong finally got the joke and laughed till his sides ached.
Na Dae-yong's flamboyant reenactment, like a one-man courtyard play, wound down as his tale concluded.
"......"
This guy... Broadway would scout him in a heartbeat. The inn dissolved into laughter.
"Puhahaha! The admiral's a riot! Aiming for the family jewels!"
Choi Ga rolled on the floor, clutching his gut. Mi-ryeong blushed crimson and bowed her head; Seo Baek-seol shook with suppressed giggles.
I couldn't laugh. My chest swelled too full.
I took the bow from Na Dae-yong. A black-lacquered composite bow, gleaming softly. The grip shone smooth from years of use. A weapon breathed upon by the Saint of War.
I traced the fresh-carved letters on the bowstave with my finger. The wood still smelled new.
(Ja-go Ja-dae). (Ja-chwi Myeol-mang).
'Strut too proud with your head held high, and you'll end up with an arrow through the skull.'
I could almost hear the admiral's voice, tuned to my own mindset. It dovetailed perfectly with the meaning in our 'Gyeom-yang-i's' name: keep your place, bow your head, or lose it clean.
'Kyaah~'
Na Dae-yong grinned slyly.
"Boss. Gotta name this bow too, right? Since the admiral said aim for that spot."
I hefted the bow.
"Obviously. Already got one."
"What is it? Something weird again?"
Seo Baek-seol shot me a look.
"Family name Go, given name Pil."
"Go-pil?"
"Yeah. Go-pil-i. Say it quick."
Seo Baek-seol tilted her head, mumbling.
"Go-pil-i... Go-pil-i... Gok-sal-li?"
"Bingo."
I snickered, slinging the bow over my shoulder.
"Gok-sal-li? What's that?"
Seo Baek-seol's eyes went wide.
"Oh, y'know the term. For that wild, untamed phase where the power's there but it won't heed the reins. Short for 'Go-cho Pil-jung-si' too—'the bitter herb arrow always hits.'"
"Hmm... sounds just like you, Boss."
"What?"
The inn erupted once more.
I shouldered Gok-sal-li and stepped outside. Stars poured across the night sky.
I aimed south, drawing the string experimentally.
'In my past life, I'd never even touched a bow.'
Yet it felt natural. Grip position, shoulder angle, breath hold—all instinctive, body moving before thought.
Creak—
Taut tension sang through my fingers. Kim Deok-ryeong of history wasn't just a club-wielder; he was a master archer too. The body's memories awakened, meeting Yi Sun-sin's bow.
I held my breath and released into the void.
Phewing—!
No empty twang. A whistling death-knell, as if an arrow from my heart pierced an unseen foe's core.
'It works.'
A few more practice shots, and the old instincts would return fully. No—infused with the admiral's spirit, sharper than ever.
'Thank you, Admiral. With this Gok-sal-li you've given me, I'll shred those arrogant Japanese right in their balls.'
The seas had Yi Sun-sin and Gyeom-yang-i. The land had Kim Deok-ryeong, Mi-sook-i, and now Gok-sal-li.
Close quarters with Mi-sook-i, distance with Gok-sal-li. What combo could be more perfect?
Summer 1592. Joseon's counterstrike roared forth—an unstoppable storm.