The Tide of Thirty Thousand
Dong—dong—dong—dong—
The drumbeats heralding hell tore through the dawn mist.
I stood atop the battlements, gazing down at the scene below. It was a sight that stole the breath from my lungs.
Just yesterday, the plains had been filled with a riot of colorful banners. Now they were gone, replaced by a human wave clad in black iron armor and red helmets.
Thirty thousand strong. The pressure of seeing that number made flesh before my eyes was beyond imagination. The killing intent pouring from them rippled like it would swallow Jinju Castle whole.
"Matchlock squad! Ready!"
The Japanese commander's bellow echoed from below the walls.
"Take cover!"
At my shout, the soldiers on the battlements hunkered down.
Tat-tat-tat-tat-BOOM!
It wasn't the pop of frying beans. It was a thunderclap ripping the air apart. Thousands of matchlocks spat fire in unison. Lead shot rained down like hail on the walls, embedding in stone cracks, splintering wooden beams, shattering helmets of soldiers who hadn't dodged in time.
"Argh!" "My arm! My arm!"
Screams drowned in the barrage of gunfire. Gunpowder smoke enveloped the battlements, blinding us to everything beyond arm's reach.
This was pitched battle. A far cry from the guerrilla skirmishes in the mountains. This was a tidal wave of colossal violence.
"Counterattack! Don't let them reach the walls!"
Kim Si-min's voice rang out. Even amid the arrow storm, he stood tall, issuing commands.
"Fire!"
Joseon regulars and Yi Ho Army archers loosed their bowstrings as one.
Pheew! Pheew!
A shower of arrows from the walls engulfed the Japanese vanguard. They fell like autumn leaves, but those behind trampled the corpses and pressed on.
"Ladders! Hook the ladders!"
Japanese soldiers crossed the moat carrying long bamboo ladders. They clacked against the walls—thunk, thunk.
"Push them off!"
Choi Ga roared. Yi Ho Army men thrust with long iron hooks, shoving the ladders away. Clinging Japanese tumbled down with shrieks. But for every one repelled, two more latched on.
"General! North gate's in trouble! They're swarming it!"
A messenger cried urgently. The north gate lay on flat terrain, drawing the enemy's main force.
"I'll handle it."
I sheathed Mi-sook-i at my waist and grabbed the bow slung across my back—the Gori-ri, a gift from Admiral Yi Sun-sin.
I sprinted along the battlements. Hell raged below my feet, but my eyes hunted only the enemy's 'heads': officers directing troops, standard-bearers, drummers urging the charge.
Those are the ones. Cut off the head, and the snake dies.
I halted, nocked an arrow, drew the string taut. The bow's tension bit into my fingers.
Range: three hundred paces. I fitted a piercing arrowhead. Too far for a standard bow. But with my strength, this bow's power, and the piercer—it would reach.
Pheew!
The arrow sliced the air. Below, a Japanese officer rallying his men had his helmet shattered. He toppled from his horse without a cry.
"Great shot."
I didn't stop.
Shwick!
An invisible arrow pierced the standard-bearer's throat. As the command flag crumpled, the charging Japanese faltered.
"Sniper! There's a sniper on the walls!"
I could see them murmuring in agitation.
Time to sow more chaos.
I dashed along the battlements, firing on the move. Flash here, flash there—shoot from one spot, sprint, shoot again.
My arrows never missed. Every shot a kill. The Gori-ri was living up to its name: hundred shots, hundred hits.
"It's General Deok-ryeong! The Yi Ho General's protecting us!"
The regulars watching my feats surged with morale. Terror-filled eyes reignited with life.
"Pour it! Boiling water!"
Women dumped scalding water and oil from cauldrons over the walls.
"Gaaah!" "Hot!"
Japanese scaling ladders peeled like scalded flesh, plummeting down. We hurled stones, ash, more oil. Desperate throes for survival.
And so, until sunset, we fought like madmen.
—
Night fell. The battle lulled to a standoff.
Exhausted soldiers sprawled atop the walls. Their soot- and blood-smeared faces looked too drained even for a sip of water.
Tough... My arms felt like they'd snap off. Too many arrows; my fingers were raw and peeled. Even Geumgang Bulgoe couldn't beat repetitive strain.
Then—a eerie sound from the darkness beyond the walls.
Peerilee... peerilee...
A flute. A mournful, wistful melody. Japanese traditional pipe, it seemed.
"Makes me miss home..." "Aigo, Mother..."
Soldiers' eyes reddened. Tension eased, unleashing homesickness and death-fear in tandem.
Psychological warfare. Guns by day, emotions by night. Vicious bastards.
Let this go on, and morale crumbles. Despair spreads worse than plague.
I sprang up.
"Brother Na Dae-yong! Bring that thing!"
At my shout, Na Dae-yong climbed from below the ramparts, carrying it: a massive brass funnel. A megaphone, jury-rigged at my request.
"What for? You gonna sing a tune, General?"
"A tune? Nah, time for a rap battle."
I pressed the funnel to my mouth, faced the darkness, tensed my gut, and bellowed.
"Ah! Mic check! One two three!"
My voice boomed, amplified into the night. The flute cut off abruptly.
"Hey! You flute guy! Off-beat much? You play after eating or what?"
Silence. Murmurs rose from the Japanese lines. I taunted in Japanese too, doubling down.
"Hungry? We just had beef soup! Broth was killer, kimchi crunchy as hell!"
I even smacked my lips realistically.
"Hey, top dog! Ukita or whatever! Rice balls for you? While your men suck fingers from starvation—tasty?"
Pad-lip and hunger torture. Time to unleash my past-life internet gaming 'mouth fighter' skills.
"We know your supplies are cut! We looted 'em all! Your rice? We're stuffed on it! Mad? Come get some! Oh wait—door's shut!"
Joseon troops on the walls snickered. The gloom flipped in an instant.
"Hahaha! Right! They're starving out there!" "Hey! Did your mom feed you before sending you off?"
Soldiers joined in. Curses and mockery poured over the walls onto the Japanese.
Meanwhile, their camp boiled with rage. A Joseon general mocking their sacred daimyo's name, digging at starving troops' wounds—enough to flip eyes white.
"Shut him up! Silence that bastard!"
A Japanese roar from the dark.
Good reaction.
I piled on.
"Yo! Know what? Your boss Kobayakawa old-timer? Last time I spun his jaw—he can't chew! Just slurps porridge? Poor guy!"
Peak provocation. Nothing aggroes like hitting an enemy's shame spot.
"Woooar!" "Kill him!"
Roars erupted from their lines. Torches flared wildly. They'd lost reason, charging.
Here they come. Flute stopped; drums resumed.
I set down the megaphone, gripped Mi-sook-i.
"Boys! Gear up! Guests incoming! Midnight snack delivery!"
Soldiers readied weapons. Fear vanished; battle-lust blazed.
Kuuuung—
Then, from the dark, a colossal shadow loomed—tall as the walls. A massive wooden tower.
Jeong-ru. Siege tower.
They were all-in now. Ladders failed, so they'd stroll right over the walls. Dozens of matchlockmen atop it.
If that hits, we're done. Walls breached.
"General! What the hell is that? A walking house!"
Choi Ga freaked.
"Don't panic!"
I yelled.
"Brother Na Dae-yong! Trebuchet ready?"
"Ready! But no stones! Used 'em all earlier!"
No stones? Damn. Taunted too hard? Ammo out at crunch time. Ah!
Fine, I'll throw whatever.
I scanned around. In a corner: a massive granite block stacked for repairs. Too heavy for three men.
"Clear out."
I approached. Deep breath. Circulated qi from my dantian through my body.
"Hup!"
With a kiai, I hefted it. Veins bulged like bursting, back screamed—but it rose to my shoulder.
Human trebuchet. Watch this: Joseon's Xiang Yu hurling a fastball.
I waited. Tower neared: fifty paces. Thirty. Twenty.
"Now!"
I spun my whole body, launched the boulder.
"Go!"
The rock cleaved the night sky. Japanese atop the tower gawked, eyes wide. Nowhere to dodge.
KWAAAA-BOOM!
Strike. It smashed the tower's midsection dead-on. Pillars snapped like chopsticks; the structure wobbled, tipping.
"Aaaah!"
Matchlockmen scattered into the air. The behemoth collapsed onto the Japanese below.
Rumble-CRASH!
Dust clouds billowed; screams shook the earth.
"Woooah!"
Soldiers cheered. No time to celebrate. Behind the wreck, a black ant swarm scaled the walls—trampling corpses, comrades, mad with frenzy.
"Hold! Don't let a single one through!"
I stood at the parapet with Mi-sook-i. Now for melee.
"Come on, let's have a body talk."
I'll play all night. Jinju Castle's night was just beginning.