The Rhythm of Gukbap, the Bearing of a Great Lord
"Ugh, damn it! Hey, you there—lend a hand! The Commander said not a single grain should spill!"
Beomdal's bellow shattered the early morning stillness.
From deep within the supply depot, massive crates of Red Rock Salt were dragged out by the Cheonrang Company men into the center of the training ground.
Drag—thud!
The crates slammed into the ground, scattering crimson-red dust into the air.
Jinhyuk drew a dagger from his bosom and roughly pried open a gap in one of the crates.
Crack!
With the shriek of splintering wood, chunks of top-grade Red Rock Salt gleamed out like spilled blood.
"What in the world is all this? Why was treasure like this rotting away in the corner of that decaying depot?"
Beomdal's eyes bulged as he asked.
Jinhyuk picked up a piece of the red salt and replied indifferently.
"That idiot Wiji Gang hoarded it to cozy up to noble families in the capital. He used funds skimmed from beast hides and herbs here to buy premium salt. To reclaim his lost status and climb back to the top of the military, he even stole the salt meant for us slaves and stockpiled it as bribes."
Beomdal nodded at Jinhyuk's curt Korean words.
In truth, over the past 120 days, Jinhyuk had drilled him relentlessly right up until bedtime for a hundred of those nights.
Beomdal, who had drafted contracts and handled mercenary deals back in his Black Dao days, was a rare literate man.
Jinhyuk taught him basic modern Korean words, replacing complex hanja with concise written notes for military terms.
This guy's the real deal.
Jinhyuk admired him inwardly.
With just a few Korean phrases and fragmentary hanja terms, Beomdal intuited the subtext, factoring in the intricate power dynamics of the Central Plains, and reforged them into the most ferocious and effective commands.
Jinhyuk usually muttered nonsense like "Ah, this is such bullshit" or "Talk about lucky as hell," but in these serious moments of scheming, all playfulness vanished from his eyes.
Born in modern times, he'd have been a stellar interpreter, diplomat, or rising star in a corporate strategy office. What a waste to rot in this hellhole.
"Beomdal, scrape every bit of salt off the meat and collect it separately. Don't waste a single grain of powder. This isn't salt—it's cash. Remember, one speck of this dust is worth more than ten slaves' lives. This is how you 'launder slush funds.'"
Beomdal's eyes flashed as he roared at the Cheonrang Company men.
"You sluggish Cheonrang dogs! Didn't you hear the Commander? Scrape every trace of salt from the meat's surface into this leather sack! If even one grain hits the dirt, I'll make you lick it off the ground! This is the treasure that will collar those nomads!"
Dozens of massive cauldrons, big enough for three grown men, hung across the training ground.
Fires roared beneath them as meat cured in Red Rock Salt was trimmed and tossed into pots filled with broth simmered from beast bones.
Whoosh—crackle, crackle!
As the firewood blazed, the water in the cauldrons began to boil.
Bubble bubble! Sizzle—!
Crimson foam bubbled up as the meat cooked, while on the side, rice steamed from mixed grains.
Ahh~ now this is gukbap.
A rich meaty aroma spread through the entire bulwark, making even the sentries on the walls swallow hard as they peered down at the training ground.
The true masters of this bulwark—the veteran survivors whom even General So Jinpyeong couldn't touch casually, the so-called Survival Ghosts—appeared first.
Hwang-yeonggam, Cheonun, the masked Dogui, and the one-eyed Guian with his grotesque face approached the head table Jinhyuk had prepared.
As they drew near, Jinhyuk rose and bowed deeply.
He might get called a bum in modern Korea, but he showed proper respect to valuable allies.
Jinhyuk fetched precious liquor hidden in the coolest depths of the depot and poured it carefully into their cups.
Glug glug—.
The clear stream filled the cups, releasing a faint grain alcohol scent.
Then Jinhyuk presented a pouch of top-grade Red Rock Salt with both hands, placing it respectfully before Hwang-yeonggam.
"Thank you sincerely for your help all this time. Without you elders, my men and I would already be fertilizer for the forest. It's humble, but please accept it as my token of gratitude."
As Jinhyuk's solemn Korean words ended, Beomdal dropped to his knees and translated into Central Plains tongue.
He reframed Jinhyuk's "thanks" as official "recognition of merit," according them maximum respect.
"Heh heh, look at this lad. He knows how to honor his elders—not your average sort. Most who fall into this hellhole get blinded by immediate gains and forget favors, but that boy's eyes hold true sincerity. He treats us not as mere old soldiers, but as true allies. The bearing of a great lord!"
Cheonun, the upright orthodox faction man, stroked his beard in satisfaction.
"The formalities differ from orthodox rites, but his courtesy surpasses many proper disciples. Commander Kang, I never expected to meet a warrior who knows respect in this blood-soaked land. I'll gladly accept this cup."
Dogui, the notorious gambling fiend from the unorthodox factions, chuckled from behind his mask as he eyed Jinhyuk.
"Kekeke! Commander, isn't this a bit much? I like guys who put on a good show, but meat and booze? You're spoiling me! Yeah, life's worth living with feasts like this. I'll watch your crew to the end—see how far you go!"
Guian, the cranky demonic cultivator from the Demonic Cult, silently downed his liquor, then glared sharply at the Manmagwang faction entering the training ground entrance.
He crushed a chunk of Red Rock Salt between his fingers with a crunch and sprinkled it over his brimming bowl of meat soup, murmuring low.
"Heh heh heh, since you've proven worthy of repaying kindness... I won't let those fools stir trouble on my watch, not unless it's dire. You've given us fine salt, so we'll pay the price. Kang Jinhyuk, from tomorrow, don't worry about your back—shake up the board as you please."
Tension rippled through the feast hall when Manmagwang's leader, Dokmun, slithered forward to the cauldrons with eerie footwork.
Swish—!
Appearing like a shadow, Dokmun glared at the boiling meat broth in disgust and bellowed with a vein-popping throat.
"Cheonrang Commander! A meat feast in this hellhole? Are you insane? Buying slaves' loyalty with rotten flesh, or using us as props in your vile banquet? Answer me!"
All eyes in the training ground locked on Jinhyuk.
The Jeonggidae and Heuksa Company men below the head table already fingered their sword hilts, producing faint shing, shing metallic scrapes.
Why's this uncle cranking up the fake drama again? No sense of the mood.
Jinhyuk thought it inwardly, but his face showed no emotion as he filled a bowl with meat gukbap and approached Dokmun himself.
"Beomdal, relay it."
Beomdal read the overwhelming magnanimity in Jinhyuk's brief order.
Drawing on his Black Dao experience mediating between giant mercenary bands, he unleashed a preemptive roar to crush Dokmun's momentum.
"The Commander declares! Manmagwang's leader, cast aside your doubts and chew this meat! This is no charity—it's respect offered to comrades who will cross the death line together! Only the strong earn the right to chew this and survive for tomorrow's battlefield! Will you be allies, or starving enemies?"
Dokmun stared into Jinhyuk's unwavering eyes for a long moment.
In the hair-trigger silence, Dokmun suddenly barked a rough laugh and snatched the gukbap bowl.
Grab!
"Kahahaha! Good! Not charity, but respect... It's been ages since anyone treated me like a man in this hellhole. Kang Jinhyuk, I acknowledge that arrogant guts of yours! Let's eat! Today, I'll chew this beast meat like dragon flesh!"
Dokmun's single word of approval melted the taut tension like snow.
Starved slave soldiers rushed the cauldrons with wooden bowls in hand.
Woooah—!
"Meat! Real meat!"
"More broth, please!"
Slurp, chomp! Gulp—!
The sounds of gulping hot meat soup and chewing chunks filled the training ground.
In moments, it transformed into a massive dining hall.
As the feast matured, Jinhyuk eyed a huddled group of non-combat slaves in the corner.
They lacked fighting skills but had crafty hands.
Jinhyuk singled out blacksmiths, carpenters, tanners, and leatherworkers among them.
"Beomdal, tell those craftsmen: Work under me fixing weapons and handling hides, and I'll guarantee three meals of meat gukbap a day. It's a contract. Prove your skills and work hard, you'll eat your fill. Slack off or half-ass it, and you'll be the bait luring those beasts into the cauldrons."
Boom—!
As Jinhyuk finished, he kicked an empty pot at his feet, sending a heavy clang echoing out.
Beomdal perfectly adapted Jinhyuk's intent into a "fear-and-reward labor contract" and hammered it into the craftsmens' ears.
Their faces paled as they kowtowed to the ground.
Next, Jinhyuk summoned No Hwi—a Je State military bureaucrat in the Iron Blood Unit—and groups of war prisoners from other nations.
Fallen elites, but experts in administration and logistics.
Jinhyuk smoothed the depot floor's dirt evenly and carved thick letters with his dagger.
Scrape, scrape—.
Each stroke dug into the earth with force.
Soldiers • Provisions • Intelligence • Personnel
Each Displays Their Strengths
Jinhyuk stared straight into No Hwi's eyes.
No Hwi bowed politely but tested Jinhyuk with a sharp question.
"Commander Kang, recruiting craftsmen to repair arms is excellent. But warhorses are another matter entirely. They're forbidden to slaves—possessing them is tantamount to treason. If General So Jinpyeong learns of it, how will you handle it?"
Jinhyuk smirked and slammed his dagger into the ground with a thunk!
Then he carved new characters beside it.
Borrow a Name to Acquire
Refine Bones into Iron
Jinhyuk glanced at Beomdal, who immediately growled threats into No Hwi's ear.
Thanks to countless note exchanges with Jinhyuk, Beomdal now fully grasped modern concepts like "proxy purchases" and "name lending," tailored to the Central Plains.
"Old man, what do you take our Commander for? Dealing with Han Noya for iron ingots? We'll disguise it as 'supply shortage relief' purchases from the merit office under General So Jinpyeong's name—but we hold the reins. And why recruit craftsmen? To melt beast bones and claws, upgrading these crude irons into elite gear. That's the Commander's iron law!"
No Hwi shuddered at Jinhyuk's intricate design.
Not mere belly-filling, but exploiting systemic loopholes to build force and logistics simultaneously—a true art of rule.
He quietly knelt.
The training ground fires burned late into the night as Jinhyuk stared into the bulwark's darkness beyond the blazing bonfire.
First, a healthy body to survive. Second, unmatched archery no one dares touch. Now, the third is in place.
Jinhyuk carved his final words into the dirt.
Gather Men to Forge an Army
A structured organization. The third vital link to seize for surviving this hellhole. Now, just 1,300 in Cheonrang Company, 700 from Iron Blood factions, plus craft slaves—total 2,200. A fraction of the ten thousand slaves, but they'll be my firmest roots.
Jinhyuk downed the last of the liquor.
Gulp—!
The burn down his throat was like fire.
Alright, tomorrow we take these wolves to close the deal with Inspector So Jinpyeong and Han Noya. To expand the board, I need that old man's approval.
The hellhole's night remained cold, but Cheonrang Battalion Commander Kang Jinhyuk's eyes burned brighter than ever.