The Grip of Iron
Yeo Cheolgi hurled his Fangtian Huaji at the pressing Samryong, still gripping it in one hand.
"Kuh!"
CRASH!
Samryong barely dodged it — but the sheer weight of the halberd was such that where it landed, the earth caved in, soil exploding upward in a cloud of dust.
Since Samryong had declared he would fight without a weapon, Yeo Cheolgi seemed determined to meet him on equal terms.
'His strength is anything but ordinary. He swings that thing with one hand?'
They stood a head apart in height, and the man's bulk was exactly double his own. Samryong had trained his external body hard in his own right, but next to Yeo Cheolgi he might as well have been a frail young girl.
'He outclasses me in raw power, no question. So—!'
With a whip of motion, Samryong wove a spin into his body and snapped out a kick.
Call it a small act of desperation — trying to make up for lacking strength with something else.
"Hm."
"Kgh!"
THUD!
The kick struck the solar plexus dead-on, but between the iron armor and Yeo Cheolgi's hardened body, Samryong was the one sent bouncing away.
Off balance, Samryong stumbled — and Yeo Cheolgi came charging at him like some assault chariot.
If a man like that bore down on horseback, halberd swinging, the terror would be beyond imagining.
'Backwards—'
He tried to retreat, but Yeo Cheolgi's lunge was faster.
GOTCHA!
With his leg seized, Samryong's body rose into the air, and for a brief, fleeting instant he felt the sensation of weightlessness.
Though only for a heartbeat.
'From the very start this is ridi—kuh!'
BAM! BAM!
Yeo Cheolgi slammed him into the ground again and again, as if flinging an empty burlap sack down onto the dirt.
"Good sir, gently now!"
"Ugh... ugh..."
Yu Yangcheol paled, and the spectacle was gruesome enough that even the prince turned his head away.
'Kgh! Kgh!'
A man grabbing another man by a single leg and swinging him around like a club — this was strength that surpassed the limits of humanity.
"Yield."
'Damn it!'
Had Samryong's body been any less sturdy, he would have been knocked out cold long ago. And he was supposed to just take this one-sided beating and surrender? Not a chance — it would be too bitter a pill to swallow.
The moment his body rose into the air once more, Samryong planted his heel and smashed it into Yeo Cheolgi's jaw.
WHACK! WHACK!
No matter how superhuman the man's physical abilities, there was no way he could take an internal-energy-charged kick to the chin without paying for it.
"Hm......"
After a few more blows, Yeo Cheolgi finally let go.
The chin stung more than he'd expected, and he rubbed it with his hand.
"Hoo......"
Only once he was free did Samryong let out a sigh of relief.
Crack.
Yeo Cheolgi loosened his fingers again, and Samryong's whole body tensed at the sight.
'If he grabs me with that again, it's over.'
Caught once more by those brutal hands, it would be finished, no question about it. It was only a sparring match, so the man wouldn't actually tear him apart — but he'd hammer him into the floor just like before, over and over. And then Samryong would pass out without having landed a single proper move.
He could lose, but he refused to go out looking like that.
WHOOSH! WHOOSH!
Despite his iron-clad bulk, Yeo Cheolgi moved with startling agility, and Samryong was hard-pressed just to stay out of his grasp.
'Dodging forever gets me nowhere!'
In the end, Samryong opted for the death-by-a-thousand-cuts strategy.
He kicked hard at Yeo Cheolgi's thigh — thick and solid as a giant log.
THUD!
The armor protected him, but Samryong channeled his internal energy into the instant of impact, and that was enough to deal some real damage.
"Hm."
Yeo Cheolgi's brow twitched ever so slightly.
Keeping his movements light, Samryong opened up the distance and stacked damage onto that thigh, blow by careful blow.
'Again!'
Just as he moved in for another low kick, Yeo Cheolgi's fist came boring in fast.
'Damn it—'
His leg was already extended. There was no escaping it — Yeo Cheolgi's hand closed on his collar.
CRUNCH!
Yeo Cheolgi hauled Samryong up by the collar, ready to slam him straight into the ground — and the nightmare from moments ago flashed before Samryong's eyes.
'Not getting slammed again!'
Throwing his whole body into it, Samryong coiled his arm around Yeo Cheolgi's like a serpent.
In the language of his past life, it was an armbar from mixed martial arts — and he sunk it in deep.
"Hmmm."
Yeo Cheolgi had meant to drive him into the ground, but the strain radiating up his arm stopped him cold.
'One wrong move and that arm pops out.'
He'd suffered dislocations often enough to know it instinctively, so Yeo Cheolgi released his grip on the collar and swung his other fist instead.
A wide, arcing punch. The trajectory might be slow — but if it landed, Samryong would be on the road to the afterlife then and there.
"Eep!"
WHOOM!
He slipped clear of it by a hair.
"Oh......"
The prince had taken little interest at first — it was an unarmed bout, after all. But as time passed, what had promised to be a complete one-sided affair had turned into an evenly matched contest.
"Oh! Ooh! OOOH!"
"Hmmm......"
Along with the prince's cries of admiration, even Yeo Cheolgi was starting to feel a flicker of surprise.
Since entering the military, no one but Hang Jeoksan had ever truly pressed him, and meeting a worthy opponent after so long felt exhilarating. This surging, electric thrill — it wasn't bad at all.
'So it's true... you should never judge any opponent by appearances alone.'
Relearning the lesson before ever setting foot on the battlefield, Yeo Cheolgi squared up in earnest.
"My apologies for being careless."
"Feel free to stay careless......"
If anything, the warning had only sharpened the man's guard. Samryong kept eating low-kick counters, and now Yeo Cheolgi was shooting his fist out the very moment Samryong's leg came up. He had never learned the textbook counter to a low kick — he was simply doing it by instinct.
'This is... hopeless, isn't it?'
Was he really going to lose like this? Going in, he'd told himself losing wouldn't matter, but now that he was actually in it, Samryong found he wanted to fight properly. Time to change tactics.
"Hah!"
Yeo Cheolgi's log of a fist flew at him.
"HAH!"
Samryong feinted a low kick, and the instant Yeo Cheolgi reacted—
Dropping low, Samryong snatched up the man's planted foot — the one that had shifted to respond — and hauled it into the air. He wasn't Yeo Cheolgi, but Samryong had trained his body hard too.
"URAAAAAH!"
Yeo Cheolgi might have twice his bulk, but balancing on one leg while the other hung in the air was no easy feat.
"Heave!"
It felt like tearing out the roots of an ancient tree, but Samryong wrenched the man's leg clean off the ground.
"HYAH!"
One step deeper in, he drove through and hammered a heavy blow into the back of Yeo Cheolgi's other knee — the knee of the colossus still standing like a great timber.
"Kgh!"
CRASH!
The giant toppled, earth and dust erupting around the thunderous impact.
"Urgh!"
Even with the shock of the fall, Yeo Cheolgi was already twisting his body to rise — but Samryong didn't waste the opening. Like a cicada he clamped onto his back and locked both arms around that massive, iron-hard neck.
"Uuuugh!"
"Mrgh!"
Yeo Cheolgi gritted his teeth and held on, but the harder he resisted, the tighter Samryong's choke squeezed. He clawed at the hold, but with Samryong's legs crossed and compressing his abdomen, even breathing became a struggle.
"Uuuugh!"
Slap! Slap!
Yeo Cheolgi slapped the ground again and again, trying in vain to peel the cicada off his back as his consciousness dimmed — until at last he could do nothing but tap Samryong's arm and surrender.
"Hoo......"
"Koff!"
The moment Samryong released him, Yeo Cheolgi clutched his aching throat and sucked in air.
A short silence followed.
"......"
"WAAAAAH!"
"Amazing!"
The silence shattered as cheers erupted from every direction.
"Ugh... my whole body......"
Having barely scraped out the win, Samryong lay sprawled on the ground in the shape of the character for "big." The cheering, the shouting — none of it reached him. All he heard was a muffled, waterlogged haze.
The aftermath of being hammered into the ground earlier was only now catching up to him.
Then those brutal hands appeared right in front of his face.
"GAH!"
The lingering shock made him flinch on pure instinct. Seeing this, Yeo Cheolgi simply stood there, expressionless.
Then Samryong understood the offer, and embarrassment hit him a beat too late.
"Ah... thank you."
"You taught me a lesson. A most remarkable style of body arts, truly."
Even at Yeo Cheolgi's slight pull, Samryong's body simply rose, weightless as a feather.
"I just imitated things I picked up wandering here and there."
"Imitation, you say... It seemed to have a mastery far beyond mere imitation."
The benefit of training hard in mixed martial arts in his past life, and squeezing in practice whenever he could in this one.
"Haha... thank you for the compliment."
"I would like to learn it myself. Would you teach me?"
Those rough, brutal hands — and yet, Samryong could feel the goodwill in them, goodwill aimed at him.
"Of course."
Samryong clasped the outstretched hand of Yeo Cheolgi, who had offered his own first.
"General Yeo, you must teach me something in return."
"Teaching and learning from one another... that sounds no bad thing at all."
"WAAAAH!"
Amid the crowd's cheers, a new bond was forged for Samryong.
* * *
"Hah... hah... hah......"
"Just a little further... I can see the fortress!"
Riders in clothing that bore little resemblance to Ming fashions — thick, heavy garments — urged their horses across the rough steppe, battling the knife-edged wind.
"Hah... hah!"
"Little Palace Mistress, are you well?"
"I'm fine...... Don't stop! They're getting closer."
"Damn it... of all the enemies we had to meet — the Sword of the North. Four out of every five of us, lost to a mere fifty riders......"
DUG! DUG!
Over the thunder of hooves beating the earth, a middle-aged man glanced back, his face etched with grief.
"Damn it all!"
Seeing black smoke rising in the distance, he squeezed his eyes shut in despair.
"Lord Commander......"
The woman called the Little Palace Mistress — the brim of her hat pulled low — spoke quietly to him.
"The fault is not yours, my lord."
"Little Palace Mistress... hnk......"
Only twenty souls still followed her now. Of the original hundred, this was all that remained after their clash with the Sword of the North — fifty cavalry.
"Why have they pushed this far north? At this rate, it won't be long before they reach the main palace."
At the man's words, the Little Palace Mistress answered.
"That is precisely why we stake our lives on this journey to beg for aid. Once we reach the earthen fortress, their cavalry will be unable to bring their full strength to bear."
Strands of snow-white hair escaped from under the deeply pulled hat and scattered on the wind — and at last, the twenty of them made it inside the earthen fortress.
"It's been abandoned a long time."
"It seems the Ming army was once garrisoned here before pulling out."
A small fort barely holding the shape of a fortress at all. It was rusted, broken, and crumbled — embarrassing to even call it a fortress — but the gate still existed, and that much was a mercy.
It might hold against a single assault. Of course, with not a single supply in hand, holding out at all would be its own problem.
"HAH! HAH!"
"Hahaha!"
"LOOSE!"
In the distance, fifty riders in black iron armor came charging up in a storm of dust.
Unwavering atop their galloping horses, they drew their bowstrings as one.
They were the nightmare of the steppe itself — the Sword of the North.
SHRIEEEEK!
The sound of the arrows tearing through the air was far too sinister to be called mere archery.
"Take cover!"
The Little Palace Mistress's cry came too late — the arrows flew faster.
"URGH!"
CRASH!
A man struck by an arrow was flung backward and smashed against the wall. The power packed into those arrows was nothing like an ordinary shot.
Firing from horseback in any posture, hitting every mark without fail — the sheer skill was a nightmare given form.
"Hrk!"
"Yeonghwan!"
"Little Palace... Mistress... live... on......"
The young man's head, an arrow through his heart, fell limply forward.