Part 1: Min Mu-jil Crushes the Jurchens
Flames erupted from the hwacha as they launched their singijeon rockets. The Jurchens, witnessing this for the first time, could only stare in bewilderment at the strange sight. It was just too astonishing. But those singijeon rockets pierced straight through the Jurchen soldiers' bodies, and the explosives attached to them detonated moments later, killing them in clusters. Terror began to grip the enemy ranks.
Moreover, the explosions sent shards flying everywhere, wounding nearby soldiers who groaned in agony. The troops screamed in panic.
"Monsters! The Joseon army has summoned monsters!"
Most Jurchen soldiers had never seen gunpowder weapons before. That's why they called them monsters and trembled in fear. As the hwacha barrage continued, the soldiers either huddled down or abandoned their tight formations to flee in chaos. They'd seen comrades pierced by those bizarre, whistling fire demons—or standing too close—get obliterated or maimed in droves.
The chieftains were just as flustered by the spectacle.
"What the hell are those fire demons?"
The chieftains weren't completely ignorant of gunpowder weapons, but they'd never encountered anything like this. The sight of ignited singijeon streaking through the air, followed by their blasts, left them reeling. Some chieftains insisted it was just a new weapon and urged them to fight on, but the soldiers, swept up in terror, ignored orders and bolted.
To make matters worse, alongside the hwacha fire, Joseon troops began sniping Jurchen cavalry with cheonjeon hand cannons. The Jurchens quaked even more—these fire demons were alien enough, but now the Joseon weapon they feared most had appeared.
One chieftain, seeing this, muttered, "It looks like the Joseon army laid a trap. That bastard Muntemu must have betrayed us."
Muntemu might feel wronged, but the chieftains were convinced he'd colluded with Joseon to lure them out. It was the only explanation that made sense.
"We should retreat for now. The soldiers are too panicked to fight properly. Fall back!"
"The path behind is blocked. We have to push forward."
"Can't you see they've deployed those freak weapons and cheonjeon? Even if you don't know for sure, that's the Joseon gyeonggun—the elite guards. If they've come, we can't win. We have to retreat."
"With the rear sealed off, how do you expect us to retreat?"
"We'll break through. No choice. Follow me!"
In the end, the Jurchens opted for retreat, scattering in disorder. But Choi Yun-deok, holding the rear, smiled as he saw them coming.
"Just as expected. Advance the pangbae spearmen! Longspearmen, hold the line from behind! Archers, provide cover fire!"
The troops moved as ordered, and the Jurchens charged to break through. But they couldn't breach the defensive circle of pangbae and longspear units. Nor could they withstand the relentless arrow volleys from behind.
As the Jurchens desperately fought to open a path, Min Mu-jil struck from the rear at the head of Yi Jong-mu's Dragon Wing and Dragon Guard cavalry, plus the Northeast Frontier horsemen.
The Jurchens were now fully encircled—Choi Yun-deok's forces in front, Min Mu-jil's cavalry behind. Surrounded, their fate was slaughter. A brutal massacre ensued.
When soldiers began surrendering amid the carnage, Min Mu-jil accepted it. The Jurchens surrendered en masse, and even the chieftains tried to follow suit. But Min Mu-jil refused.
"You're not like the soldiers, who were just ordered to attack Joseon. You took up arms yourselves. I can't forgive that. Soldiers—what are you waiting for? Execute every last Jurchen chieftain."
With those words, Min Mu-jil drew his sword and severed one chieftain's head. The rest fought desperately but were cut down by Joseon cavalry.
Countless Jurchen soldiers surrendered in droves, bringing the battle to a close. A resounding victory for the Joseon army.
Perfect—it went exactly as planned. A total rout. We killed 1,238 enemies and captured 432 prisoners. All eight chieftains dead. Our losses: just 36. Over half were cavalry killed while hunting chieftains. Otherwise, it would've been around 15. Should I have taken out more chieftains myself? I settled for two because Yi Jong-mu said the supreme commander shouldn't step in. Anyway, solid results, and we seized about 60 horses. Huge gain—horses are always valuable. The rest of their weapons are scrap iron, worthless. Melt 'em down and recast. Armor? Trash it. Pointless. Overwhelming triumph. The hwacha's disruption shattered their dense formations, which was key. In this era, once tight ranks collapse, it's annihilation. That's why hwacha shine—they dismantle packed lines completely.
Satisfied, I was mulling this over when Yi Jong-mu approached.
"Left Army Commander. What about the prisoners?"
"Let's go check."
"Yes, sir."
The prisoners were all shivering. I ordered the nearby soldiers to draw their swords. They freaked out even more, clasping hands and begging—intent clear even without a translator. Spare us.
To the interpreter, I said, "Tell them: We're releasing you now. Go back to your tribes and report this battle's outcome. If they offer tribute and surrender, we'll forgive them. Resist, and we won't hold back. We'll raze their entire villages with the new weapons we brought."
I freed them while demonstrating another hwacha singijeon launch. They gaped in horror. Released, they bowed repeatedly in thanks and fled.
Park Sil watched and commented, "Releasing captured prisoners seems wasteful, sir. We could make them slaves without issue."
Had he picked it up from Min Mu-gu? No—warriors always crave spoils post-battle. Time to explain.
"Then who spreads word of this victory?"
I'm not releasing them out of pity. I want them blabbing about Joseon's new weapons. And they'll do it perfectly—they felt the hwacha's power firsthand, and I showed it again. It's seared into their bones. Survivors always exaggerate. It justifies their survival. Back home, they'll hype it up, speeding surrenders out of fear. If not, we crush them later.
They nodded in understanding.
"Clever, sir. So, what about Muntemu?"
"Meet him and threaten again."
I confronted the imprisoned Muntemu. He cowered at my sight.
"No need to fear. Thanks to you, we won big."
I shared the battle tally.
"What are you?"
"Cut the crap—speak properly, friend."
"Friend" left him speechless, exasperated. Friend? Sure—he danced to my tune, delivering everything I wanted. Sucker? Whatever. Squeeze more utility first.
"I'm freeing you. Return to your tribe, bring tribute, and surrender properly. Swear never to betray Joseon again."
He bit his lip, then nodded.
"Good. Stay loyal to Joseon, and your tribe—and you—will thrive."
I'd planned to kill him after, but seeing chieftains curse him mid-battle changed my mind. They think he betrayed them. Jurchens hate traitors most. Universal, really. Use him as our scapegoat. Dispose when spent. We'll absorb his tribe gradually, turning them fully Joseon.
After sending Muntemu off, I dispatched messengers to chieftains uninvolved in the battle. Report the outcome, come swear loyalty to Joseon and Yi Bang-won. We'd discuss tribute then. Deadline: November 3rd. One day late? Deemed enemies.
Then I inspected the Six Garrisons, reviewing defenses and civilian affairs. Harsh land, tough living—but viable. Surprisingly, naturalized Jurchens integrated well. Mutual aid in hardship fosters survival.
"If only it stays this way."
"Left Army Commander, it will."
"We must ensure it."
I ordered local merchants: No cheating naturalized Jurchens with rigged scales. I watched closely; one got caught. Interrogated him.
"Didn't I warn against scamming naturalized Jurchens with false weights?"
"My lord, I—"
"Mocking my words? Do you not know who I am?"
I'm no pushover surviving between Yi Bang-won and Min Da-yeon. I'm the king's brother-in-law, Left Army Commander. He knew it—trembled.
"Never again. Mercy, just once, my lord."
"Mercy comes after paying for crimes. Guards!"
"Yes."
"Beat him properly. Ensure he never dares again."
He got the max flogging I could order—left a bloody mess. Harsh? Necessary. Naturalized Jurchens must see no discrimination. Otherwise, resentment brews, they cluster defensively. Complicates everything. Nip it early.
Post-beating, no more scale scams on Jurchens—or even fellow Joseons. They figured: cheat Jurchens, fine; cheat us, death. Naturalized Jurchens seemed content.
Soon, envoys from battle-participating tribes arrived, surrendering with tribute—oxen, horses—apologizing for Hweryeong, vowing no more aggression.
"Really?"
"Yes. Never again—please forgive generously."
"I'll trust you once. Betray again, no mercy."
"Yes."
Their fear won't last. Gotta reinforce it. Some no-shows as expected. Time to make an example—smash one tribe hard.
I led 1,000 cavalry in a lightning raid on the Oryanghap tribe.
"Burn it all. Reduce them to ashes. Show the cost of defiance."
Oryanghap, weakened from before, folded without resistance. Torched tents, razed fields. They begged mercy with tribute, chieftain—dead one's brother—kneeling.
"Withdraw your troops, please. No matter the provocation, we'll never cross the Tumen River again. Show mercy."
"Too late, no?"
"My folly delayed us. Mercy, I beg."
Among tribute: a pox-ridden horse. Jackpot—smallpox vaccine candidate. No other source; perfect.
Joy beyond exterminating Jurchens. Pre-modern world's worst plague, thwarted.