Heroes' Weapon Exchange
The tension was taut, like tugging on a steel wire.
The bow called Golliri, sent by Admiral Yi Sun-sin, was no ordinary weapon. It was a super-strong bow among strongbows—even regular soldiers had to lie on their bellies and grunt just to string it.
But in my hands, it was like a docile puppy.
"Hoo..."
I steadied my breath. In the inn's courtyard, a straw Japanese soldier dummy stood 200 paces (about 150 meters) away. It wore one of their pointed helmets on its head, and between its legs... a thick bundle of straw.
Around me, 300 Yiho Army soldiers held their breath, watching intently.
I'll show them.
That their commander wasn't just good with a club, but could deliver precise strikes too. And why this bow was called the Gocho-piljung-si—the Bitter Grass Infallible Arrow.
I raised the bow. My left hand braced like Mount Tai, my right pulled the string light as a feather. Immense force pressed on my hooked thumbs.
My muscles remembered. Wind strength, humidity, arrow weight. The Kang Cheol-min of my past life might not have known, but the Kim Deok-ryeong of this one calculated it instinctively.
Gocho-piljung. Time to show them the spicy version.
Ting!
A clear, sharp twang pierced my eardrums.
Shiiik—!
The arrow sliced through space at invisible speed.
Thud!!
A dull, gruesome rupture echoed. Not the head, not the chest.
The arrow pierced dead center through the thick straw bundle between the dummy's legs.
Crack!
The penetration force was so strong it shattered the wooden post's base holding the dummy, folding it in half. Its "crotch" had literally exploded.
"......!!"
Silence. Then screams erupted in unison.
"Hngh!" "Kuh...!"
The 300 watching Yiho soldiers winced as one. Choi Ga clutched his groin with both hands, face pale as a ghost, while Chun-sik crossed his legs into an X and collapsed.
A visual pain transfer any man would feel.
"C-Commander... that's too cruel..."
Choi Ga whimpered.
"Why? It's the Gocho-piljung-si. Gotta live up to the name."
I stroked the bow and grinned.
"How's that? Now I can shut down any bastard sniping from afar—make 'em piss themselves in fear."
"Commander forever! Yiho Army forever! (Please don't shoot me there!)"
The soldiers' cheers mixed strange fear and awe. If the ebony club Misuk inspired bone-crushing terror, the lacquered black bow Golliri brought seed-drying dread. Now I was complete—no blind spots, no mercy.
Then Na Dae-yong approached, holding something unfamiliar: a long tube split from bamboo, and arrows finger-short.
"Commander. Your marksmanship's flawless, but try this."
"What's this? Arrows this short? Defective?"
"Pyeonjeon. Nicknamed baby arrows."
Na Dae-yong explained.
"Sent with the bow by Admiral Yi Sun-sin of the Left Naval Command. Load it into this tonga—the launch tube—and fire. Range double a normal arrow, speed so fast you can't dodge even seeing it. Joseon's secret weapon."
Pyeonjeon. That thing from history specials.
I took one. Light but vicious, tip razor-sharp.
"Know how to use it?"
"Dunno. My body will figure it out."
I gripped the tonga in my left hand, slotted the short baby arrow. Unlike regular archery—short arrow risked piercing my own hand. Dangerous.
But oddly, my fingers knew the grip, the draw. Kim Deok-ryeong's memories guided my hands.
"That pine tree back there. 300 paces (about 220 meters)."
I adjusted the target.
"Ready?"
I drew along the tonga. Tension ready to snap.
Pew—!
Different sound. Normal arrows cut wind; pyeonjeon tore air.
Shwap!
Speed beyond the eye.
Kwak!
300 paces away, the pine's bark exploded. The arrow pierced clean through, feathers buried deep.
"Whoa......"
Choi Ga's jaw dropped.
"Commander, what just flew by? Saw nothing."
"That's normal. If you see it, you dodge."
I set down the tonga, thrilled. This wasn't a bow. It was a sniper rifle. Silencer-equipped sniper rifle.
"Insane. Aim for enemy commanders' heads—they won't even squeak."
"Exactly. Long range, high velocity—pierces armor. But..."
Na Dae-yong smirked.
"Hard to master, not for just anyone. But you? No problem."
I loaded another pyeonjeon.
"Gotta get the feel. Choi Ga! Set up ten more dummies! 350 paces back this time!"
Real practice began. I unleashed pyeonjeon like mad.
Pew! Pew! Pew!
Hundred percent hits. Every vital: head, heart, and... groin.
An hour later, shoulders ached. But the feel was perfect.
"Good. Battle-ready now."
I set down the bow and tonga.
Na Dae-yong approached, pulling blueprints from his bosom.
"Archery done? Check this."
"Blueprints?"
"Hyunmu upgrade. Thanks to your gunpowder and iron, inspiration struck."
The drawing showed a strange device atop the Hyunmu's roof.
"What's this? Cauldron?"
"Bi-gyeok-jin-cheon-roe catapult."
"Catapult?"
"Hand-throwing has limits. Uses Hyunmu's tension to hurl thunderbolts farther, more accurately. Turns it into a mobile artillery platform."
Genius born in the wrong era. Tanking with mortars now.
"Brother. What's in that head of yours?"
"What else? Smashing wretches."
We laughed together. Solid. Best weapons, best engineer, best comrades.
But the peaceful training didn't last.
"Commander."
Mi-ryeong ran up, expression grave. Playful girl gone; Intelligence Chief's chill resolve remained.
"News?"
"Yes. Geumsan intel."
Mi-ryeong handed a note.
[Enemy commander Kobayakawa Takakage gathering forces at Geumsan Castle. Estimated 15,000 troops. Imminent resumption of Jeonju Castle assault.]
"15,000..."
Choking number. Worlds apart from Ichi Pass's 1,000. They'd brought their main force, dead serious.
"Kobayakawa. That old bastard's jaw must be healed."
I clicked my tongue. The enemy commander we'd let slip at Ichi Pass. Burning for revenge.
"When do they move?"
"Three days. No vanguard this time—full army surges at once. They say the 'Black Ghost'... you, uncle... they'll skin alive."
"Skin me? My hide's tough—dunno if their blades'll cut."
I joked, but the mood was heavy. 15,000 vs. 300. Even with Hyunmu and powder, egg vs. rock. No winning head-on.
Seo Baek-seol asked, face worried.
"What now? This one's really dangerous, right?"
"Dangerous. Very."
I adjusted Misuk on my belt.
"That's why we're going. Official army blocks, they're slaughtered."
"Again...? You could die for real!"
"Won't. I've got..."
I tapped Golliri on my back.
"...the admiral's spirit with me."
Like his sword guarded the seas, his bow would guard the land. Our heroes' pact.
"Full assembly!"
At my command, Yiho Army gathered in the training yard. 300 eyes fixed on me. No fear—just trust awaiting orders.
"Heard? Bastards coming again. Numbers game this time."
I paced the platform, meeting their gazes.
"15,000. A lot. Scared?"
"No, sir!"
"Good. Numbers are just numbers. Mountain paths narrow—they'll line up single-file. We plug the entrance, whack moles."
I clenched my fist.
"Not defense this time. We strike first—before they mass at Geumsan. Cut their march."
"Preemptive?"
Choi Ga gaped.
"Yeah. Slice their ankles before they assemble. Gotta hobble 'em ourselves."
"Prep. Dawn tomorrow, we march."
"Waaaaah!"
Cheers shook the inn.
—
That night, sleep evaded me. I stepped into the yard, polishing the bow. Moonlight gleamed off black lacquer, illuminating the inscription: "Sleep brings demise, vigilance endures."
"Uncle."
Mi-ryeong approached, small gourd flask in hand.
"This... rice wine. For sleepless nights, have a sip."
"Thanks. You up too?"
"Worried..."
Mi-ryeong squatted beside me.
"You must win. And must come back."
"Obviously. Where would I go without you?"
I sipped. Sharp burn down my throat.
"Mi-ryeong."
"Yes?"
"War ends, we'll really go flower-viewing. I'll buy treats."
"Really?"
"Promise."
Mi-ryeong beamed. To protect that smile, I couldn't lose. She scampered off. I smirked at her back, then gazed bitterly at the starry sky.
Imjin War. Textbook blurb once; now hell. Countless innocents—kids orphaned, starved, stabbed—piled like mountains. Lives snuffed unseen.
Mi-ryeong got lucky, meeting me.
If I can save them, every kid in my reach lives.
Adult's duty, strong man's oath. Not just her—all kids behind me. I had to win.
I swigged from her flask. Cool buzz spread.
"Eat this with it."
Calm voice from behind. Startled, I turned—Seo Baek-seol emerged from shadows behind a pillar, small tray in hands.
"Huh? Up too?"
"Dunno. Just... can't sleep."
She set the tray on the bench: shredded jerky, dried persimmons powdered white, warm honey water.
"What's this?"
"Snacks. Saw Mi-ryeong with booze. Don't drink straight—eat with these."
She fed me a persimmon. Sweet chew neutralized the booze's bite.
"Thanks. Was hungry."
I looked at her. Seo Baek-seol sat quietly, eyes tracing my face intently. No usual nags about saving money or loot. Just deep, memorizing gaze.
"What? Something to say?"
"No. Just... committing you to memory."
She touched my collar.
I fed her the last persimmon.
"You too. Worry's shrinking your face."
Seo Baek-seol chewed, swallowed, spoke softly.
"One promise."
"What?"
"Hero or whatever—don't get hurt. Just come back alive to me."
Her voice quivered faintly.
"Money? Honor? Don't need it. Without you... what's the point? Me rich alone? Useless."
The money-obsessed woman valued me more. Truth hit heavy.
"Baek-seol."
I set food aside, gripped her hands tight.
"I won't die. You know I'm tough."
"I know. But... still scary."
She leaned forehead to my chest. Not the bold merchant—pure woman's tremble.
She listened to my heartbeat, then rose.
"Sleep. Dawn march. Breakfast... hot soup with lotsa meat."
"Yeah. Thanks."
She took the tray inside. Paused at the doorframe long, moonlight pitying her silhouette.
I savored lingering sweetness.
Mi-ryeong was 'hope' to guard; Seo Baek-seol, 'home' and 'haven' to return to.
Definitely...
With their send-off, fear vanished. Belly full.
I went to bed, eyes shut for tomorrow's fight.
—
Next dawn, as light broke, Yiho Army moved.
Four Hyunmu rumbled ahead, 300 warriors followed. Me at the front.
Left waist: ebony club Misuk. Right: tonga with pyeonjeon. Back: Admiral Yi Sun-sin's Golliri and quiver. Chest: Seo Baek-seol's red padded armor.
Full kit. Joseon's Xiang Yu complete.
"Let's go."
I eyed south. Far across the sea, Admiral Yi Sun-sin seemed to watch.
Admiral. How's Gemyang? My Golliri's raring. Today, we'll drive Joseon's fury into their hearts.
June 1592
The wind blew. Not blood-scented, but cool, victory-promising.