K-Archery, Jumong DNA
The northern wall of the Outpost was lashed by a wind that was no ordinary gale.
It carried the screams of vengeful spirits from beyond the Great Wall, a savage blood-wind laced with demonic energy that rejected both humanity and civilization itself.
Every thirty days, the “Inspectors” descended from the fifty-meter-high northern ramparts with supplies and surveillance orders. They were legalized plunderers wearing the uniforms of the regular army.
Any faction that failed to offer sufficient bribes or trade goods was branded “useless,” and the slave soldiers belonging to that faction received no supplies at all.
The air inside the adjutants’ meeting hall was so cold it cut like a blade.
The faction leaders had withdrawn to observe from the rear while their adjutants hunched over a crude map drawn on an old table, rolling lumps of charcoal across it in a desperate battle of numbers.
At the center of the meeting sat Jo Pil, adjutant of the Iron Blood Unit.
After Wiji Gang had stormed out in fury at Jinhyuk’s provocation, Jo Pil had gathered only the adjutants to restore order among the remaining factions.
“Enough squabbling over scraps. The Outpost’s official command still belongs to Lord Wiji Gang, and what the Wall Army demands from us is simple: survive the monsters and light the signal fires on time.”
At Jo Pil’s words, Je Gal-hwi, strategist of the Righteous Banner Unit, narrowed his eyes and waved an old stick.
True to his Je Gal clan origins, he refused to abandon the arrogance of the orthodox sects and sought profit through formations and tactics.
“Surveillance is no great difficulty. As the Righteous Banner Unit consists of former orthodox martial artists, we shall guard the ten eastern watchtowers with formations. In exchange, we require an additional twenty percent share of supplies.”
“Tch! Every time that squinty-eyed scholar opens his mouth, I want to rip it wider. Formations, my ass. Let’s see those precious formations stop a wolf’s jaws.”
With a wet, phlegmy sound, Ak-chung, adjutant and field commander of the Black Snake Unit, slammed his foot onto the table.
Most of his men were former bandits, river pirates, and sea raiders; the hall reeked of their predatory ways.
“We’ll take the ten western watchtowers. No one touches any monster parts that come out of our sector. Step into our territory—Righteous Banner or Iron Blood—and you’ll lose your head to my blade before any monster gets you. First come, first served.”
Beom Dal, following Jinhyuk’s instructions, drove a rusty spearhead into the table with a sharp crack and cut through the argument.
“The Heavenly Wolf Unit will take the ten northern watchtowers along the forest border. In return, no one touches the supplies we secured through Jo Gang and Han Noya, nor the rights to the northern monsters. Think carefully before you object—unless you want this spearhead somewhere painful.”
Jo Pil calmly extracted an agreement from the murderous standoff.
Righteous Banner Unit (Je Gal-hwi): Ten eastern watchtowers and ownership of monster byproducts.
Black Snake Unit (Ak-chung): Ten western watchtowers and ownership of monster byproducts.
Heavenly Wolf Unit (Beom Dal): Ten northern forest-border watchtowers and exclusive rights to external monster byproducts.
Iron Blood Unit (Jo Pil): The rocky hill with the signal-fire platform, five key surrounding watchtowers, and monopoly on official supplies.
The terms were absolute. Each watchtower required fifty men; the signal-fire hill needed a hundred slave soldiers on permanent station.
Out of the Heavenly Wolf Unit’s 1,300 men, five hundred would be stationed at watchtowers and five hundred held in reserve. That left Jinhyuk with barely three hundred fighters he could actually take into the forest.
To overcome this crushing disadvantage, Jinhyuk dragged the blacksmith slave soldiers from the southern workshop and activated the legendary “Bad Cop, Good Cop—Barbarian Tactic.”
“No, no, uncle! Wheels on the bow! Like cart wheels! And don’t just tie the string—twist it so the wheels roll when you draw! That way your arms won’t shake even if you hold the aim forever! See? Like this, like this!”
Jinhyuk scribbled grotesque diagrams and characters onto an old scrap of cloth with charcoal, ranting nonstop in Korean.
He demonstrated the shooting stance himself, holding the draw for long seconds while repeating the motion.
While the blacksmith stood slack-jawed, Beom Dal—the only mercenary in the Heavenly Wolf Unit who could read military Chinese—frowned and studied both the gestures and the characters.
“My lord, you wish to install a mechanism that stores power when the string is drawn and releases it all at once? Using pulleys and catches like those on the army’s great crossbows to reduce the holding strength required?”
Jinhyuk nodded furiously, delighted that Beom Dal understood.
“Yeah! Yeah! Pulleys! Wheels! Reduce holding strength! Okay!”
Beom Dal finally grasped the concept and began translating for the blacksmith in smooth, technical terms.
“Did you hear him, blacksmith? The commander wants rotating pulleys at both ends of the string to accumulate tension. He also wants a sighting device so he can snipe from long range. Use every technique you learned repairing strong crossbows back in the garrison army. Understand?”
When the blacksmith grumbled that such complicated devices would make the bow too heavy, Doksa drew a dagger and began spinning it beside the man’s ear, producing an eerie metallic whine.
“Worry about your own balance instead. If the pulleys and sights don’t come out right, your fingers retire today. If you’d rather not watch your neck snap faster than a bowstring, focus. Fail, and you’ll be monster food tomorrow.”
Three hellish days and nights passed, filled with Jinhyuk’s rambling gestures, Beom Dal’s sharp military reinterpretations, and Doksa’s brutal threats.
Jinhyuk kept interrupting with feedback—“No, that’s too heavy! Make it lighter!” or “Holes! Sighting holes!”—while Beom Dal soothed the blacksmith and Doksa kept the pressure on.
In the end, a grotesque hybrid weapon never before seen in the Central Plains was born: the Heavenly Wolf Bow.
Iron pulleys, a rear sight, and monster bones reinforcing the limbs for maximum elasticity. The blacksmith stared at it, dazed.
“This isn’t a bow… It’s a murder machine. How did you even think of putting cart wheels on a bow…?”
Jinhyuk tossed the man a cloth pouch of precious tobacco he had obtained through Han Noya.
But the satisfaction was short-lived.
Just as he was about to step through the northern gate to test the bow, a hand shot from the shadows and seized him by the scruff of the neck.
“Boy, before I head out myself, I’d better loosen up that body of yours.”
Hwang-yeonggam’s fingers dug along Jinhyuk’s spine. Push Palace, Pass Blood. A painful but necessary procedure that forcibly opened the meridians of someone with no internal energy, forcing them to respond to the natural qi around them.
“Aaaagh! Old man! Stop! Stop!”
Jinhyuk’s scream echoed over the Outpost walls and all the way to the Great Wall, yet Hwang-yeonggam never flinched as he twisted the meridians.
When the agony peaked—cold sweat pouring, vision flashing white—the world suddenly fell silent.
In place of pain came a strange new sensation.
Jinhyuk could feel the texture of the cold wind on his skin, the metallic scent of monster blood drifting from the forest five li away, even the sound of leaves being crushed underfoot.
His eyesight sharpened until he could clearly see the outlines of objects in the dark.
“That should do. Don’t die out there.”
Hwang-yeonggam offered a curt farewell, then vanished into the darkness beyond the walls alongside the Survival Demons, moving with impossible agility for an old man with no internal energy.
Jinhyuk steadied his tingling body, took up the newly completed Heavenly Wolf Bow, and stepped up to a practice range manned by idle Heavenly Wolf Unit members.
He nocked one of the specially forged black-iron arrows and drew the string.
The pulleys spun with an eerie mechanical sound.
The draw weight would have dislocated the shoulder of anyone using a normal strong bow, yet the compound structure made the full draw feel deceptively light.
At that moment, images of Korean archers he had seen on television flashed through Jinhyuk’s mind.
The pride of a nation that dominated every event and made headlines whenever a ten was missed. Jinhyuk inhaled, anchored the string at his jaw, and opened his chest.
It was the precise, unshakable posture of Olympic gold medalists—the legendary K-Archery stance.
Ancestors, are you watching? Your descendant is holding a bow in another world.
Every Korean was said to carry Jumong’s blood, the national belief that archery DNA flowed in their veins. Even as a shut-in, Jinhyuk felt like a national representative with the flag on his back.
Twang—!
The moment he released, energy exploded. While ordinary arrows followed a parabolic arc, the arrow from the Heavenly Wolf Bow tore through space in a straight line.
Thud—!
With a dull impact, the upper half of a wooden target two hundred paces away shattered, and the arrow buried itself deep in the repaired section of the palisade wall beyond.
The Heavenly Wolf Unit members who had been watching screamed.
“Wh-what?! Did anyone even see that arrow?”
“Captain… Did that crazy old man just teach you martial arts? How is that speed even possible…?”
Even Doksa and Beom Dal stood with their mouths hanging open.
Jinhyuk lowered the bow with feigned nonchalance and muttered in Korean.
“That’s the five-thousand-year archery DNA of our people, you bastards. Lord Jumong would be shedding proud tears right now.”