Reconnaissance is Part of War - 5
As expected, another report arrived today from the Guyong Garrison Commandant. Among the frontlines against the Mongols—Shanhaiguan, Guyongguan, and Jiayu Pass—the one closest to Beijing, Guyongguan, faced the fiercest assaults of all. That's why I'd ordered him to send regular dispatches, even if there was nothing to report.
It wasn't a lack of trust in the Guyong Garrison Commandant. He's a warrior who fought alongside Taizu Emperor against the Mongols in the old days. Given his age and merits, he could hold a higher post without issue, yet like the Shanhaiguan Commandant, he's a loyal servant stationed at the border. If I couldn't trust a man like that, who could I trust?
No, the periodic communication was simply to detect any sudden silence immediately—signaling trouble at Guyongguan. A minor hassle against the Mongols, but necessary.
"What the hell is this?"
The order was more for survival checks than intel gathering, so when the dispatch contained unexpected information, I was caught off guard.
Hundreds of beasts have merged into a massive monster. Hundreds of eyes glare at our soldiers, its spindly legs unable to support its bloated bulk, so it crawls on the ground with its forelimbs. A truly grotesque and hideous sight—even our brave Daesong troops can't help but sigh in dismay.
And such bizarre, incomprehensible details at that.
Classic Shanhaijing? I even wondered if the Guyong Garrison Commandant had slipped in excerpts from the Shanhaijing.
The Shanhaijing, a record of mythical beasts and geography from ancient times. Called a geographical text, but it read more like pure fiction no matter how you sliced it. Yet the report mentioned a monster straight out of its pages.
A big beast? Fine, whatever. But hundreds merging into one? What did that even mean? Could such a thing exist in this world?
I cannot even imagine the destructive power if that beast of hundreds self-destructs. Shamefully, with this fool's meager skills, I can't guarantee felling it before it detonates—what a lamentable state. As a warrior, I'd challenge it even in failure, but as Guyong Garrison Commandant, responsible for His Majesty's troops, I dare not.
But the Guyong Garrison Commandant wasn't one to joke in an official report. The emotion in his words was raw and desperate. Astonishingly, this Shanhaijing-level monster had actually appeared. Hard to believe, but more plausible than him pranking me.
What the hell does it look like to warrant this?
Considering his skills, character, and pride, he'd have handled any ordinary monster before reporting. Yet here he was, admitting he couldn't deal with it easily. It must be freakish enough to make him set aside his warrior's pride.
I should go see for myself.
With mobilization looming, leaving my post wasn't ideal, but for this? Direct inspection was best. If a commander of his caliber sent such a report—to check the Mongols' new weapon—I could delay paperwork.
Our eldest grandson will head to Guyongguan soon. You and the Habuk officials are already striving for the realm's peace, so no worries, but a grandfather frets his boy might stumble in some far-off place. Dal-i, keep an eye on our Un for me.
Plus, Grandfather had asked him to watch out for the Right Deputy Censor-in-chief's safety.
Of course. I couldn't help chuckling. The Right Deputy Censor-in-chief arrives at Guyongguan, and boom—this happens. Back as Left Vice Inspector, he'd stirred incidents everywhere. At this rate, was he drawn to trouble, or did trouble seek him out?
If the latter, for the realm's peace and people's happiness, maybe lock the Right Deputy Censor-in-chief in Kaepyeong forever.
But that'd be its own headache. Keeping him in the capital might trouble His Majesty. A real dilemma: capital or provinces? Emperor or people? Choices too weighty to rank.
After that outrageous conclusion of the king scamming time off from his vassal.
"The world's ugliest things are all Mongol-made."
"Fitting for the Orkhon who disturb Heaven's mandate with their own hands."
Jung San Wang, rushing over after the dispatch, scowled at the loitering hybrid beast.
A relief, yet bittersweet. If even he hadn't seen it before, this monster wasn't commonplace. A world crawling with them? I'd never reach 80 or 90. Lucky us.
But if it was new to Jung San Wang, it screamed original Mongol tech—unknown to any Daesong folk.
Meaning we have to figure out countermeasures.
Bitter pill. Guyongguan's top brass had concluded, "A Hwagyeong master slices it in one hit before it self-destructs?" Can't summon Hwagyeong every time. Needed real solutions.
Easier said than done. Countering a never-before-seen monster on the spot? That's no human—that's a walking Akashic record.
"Right Deputy Censor-in-chief."
"Yes, Your Highness."
Mid-conversation with the Guyong Garrison Commandant, Jung San Wang called me.
"A monster without peer in the realm, yet at root, it's beasts. Could your spirit beasts handle them?"
His gaze flicked to the beasts lounging by me—specifically, the qilin.
Sharp. He knew it wasn't ordinary; a Four Auspicious Beast. Grandfather must've tipped him off.
"The Mongol beasts were already berserk, mindless. In that grotesque form? No guarantees. Up close, maybe..."
"I see."
I gave a measured reply. Eyes everywhere now, so the qilin "ki-ri-ring"-ed like a beast. Alone, we'd shared intel telepathically.
Blinded subjects cannot recognize their king. Sadly, that's their state.
"No way, then?"
For now, yes. If they regain sight, perhaps. But even the king of furred beasts is powerless before mad subjects.
History's full of regicides. Even a qilin's control could waver. Not strange, just regrettable.
And its shaken authority confirmed something.
If they ignore me this much, something my equal intervened. The Four Evils' doing.
The beast riot? Four Evils confirmed. Chaos or Gong-gi? Either way, only peers could shake the qilin's prestige. Sure, it'd been dog-beaten by Do-cheol before—physically weaker—but its majesty stemmed from authority, not brawn. Only equal authority could undermine that.
"No helping it. Subjugate that thing for now."
"Are you sure? Watching longer might yield ideas."
"For lesser beasts, yes. But that's too big. Better strike fast."
Couldn't argue. Time seeking qilin-submission methods? Soldiers' morale crumbling watching it? Self-destruct taunt? Yeah, quick kill might be best.
"I'll handle it now—everyone below the walls. Debris from explosion could fly; safer behind."
"Grateful, but such monsters may return. As commandant, I must witness to the end."
"If that's your will."
Nodding, Jung San Wang leaped down, charging the hybrid.
- Krreeeeek!
- Kiiiiiik!
- Grrruk, krrrrruk!
The loitering hybrid bellowed at his charge—
Ah.
Jung San Wang swung; hybrid became halves. So fast, I stared blankly. Expected quick from a Hwagyeong master, but lightspeed?
- Krrruk...!
- Kiik, krreeeek!
What now?
The halves wriggled as separate entities. Doubled, not dead. Is that even alive?
Panicking.
Jung San Wang's sword hand trembled—unexpected. But he swung again, composure regained.
...How far will it split?
Problem: each swing doubled it. Just self-destruct already, you lunatic.