Archer Selection: The Arrow Rain Descends
The northern wind howled across one corner of the training grounds. The half-finished armory site, its skeletal frame still exposed, lay in utter disarray.
Through that chaos rolled several carts led by the workshop artisans.
Atop the carts rested the prototypes forged by the blacksmiths, based on the blueprints drawn overnight by Xiao San, Jinhyuk’s personal artificer.
Crude, thick iron bows typical of the Yan Empire. Plain, unadorned crossbows devoid of any decoration. And sharp, powerful composite bows modeled after the northern nomads’ weapons.
Still radiating the acrid smell of the forge, the weapons were carried to the center of the parade ground and placed on stands.
Leaning against the railing of the central tower, Jinhyuk swept a cold gaze over the scene below.
The Black Death troops, already cowed by the presence of the Great Snow Bear, eyed the weapons with lingering suspicion.
To men who had lived and died by the sword, ranged weapons were nothing but “coward’s tools fit only for women.”
Jinhyuk yawned lazily and jerked his chin at Beom Dal beside him.
Beom Dal nodded and unleashed a thunderous roar that shook the training grounds.
“Attention! Open your eyes and look! Do those weapons look like mere playthings for women? Do not delude yourselves into thinking your pathetic sword skills are what kept you alive this long! Among those selected for the Heavenly Wolf Division, is there no one who can show these fools the true terror of archers and crossbowmen?”
Beom Dal’s short, sharp command tore through the air.
The moment the words left his mouth, a savage aura erupted from among the veterans.
Beom Dal had not needed to provoke them further.
To those who had devoted their lives to bow and crossbow, the question was a direct challenge to their very existence.
“Where are those Zhao bastards who used to mock us, saying we were born holding bows?”
The first to step forward was Han Seong, a man from Zhao.
Without waiting for permission, he strode out and snatched up one of the composite bows from the stand.
Years of slave-soldier life had left him gaunt, yet the calluses on his fingers that gripped the string remained vivid.
“I may have lost my inner energy, but the feel of drawing a bowstring is carved into my bones! Watch closely—this is the archery of Zhao!”
He exhaled roughly and drew the bow to full draw in one motion.
The bow creaked as if it might snap.
His target was a thick oak board placed 150 paces away, beneath the inner castle wall.
Shhhk—Thud!
The arrow carved a graceful arc through the air and struck dead center of the target, then ricocheted off the stone wall behind it in a shower of sparks.
The watching Black Death troops widened their eyes.
Before Han Seong could even lower his bow, a massive man stepped forward.
It was Wi Gang from Qi. He roughly seized one of the crude Yan-style crossbows.
“Qi crossbowmen see the world through the sights of their weapons! I’ll show you that even this Yan scrap heap becomes the Reaper’s scythe in the hands of a Qi man!”
Wi Gang planted his foot on the stirrup and used his full body weight to cock the crossbow.
Clack. A heavy metallic sound echoed through the enclosed training ground.
Without taking careful aim, he pulled the trigger by instinct.
BOOM—!
The sound of the string releasing was like a sonic boom.
The heavy bolt tore through the air in a straight line, punching through the thick oak target like paper before embedding itself deep into the stone wall behind it.
Jinhyuk felt a surge of satisfaction at the overwhelming penetrating power—followed by a strange sense of dissonance.
‘Huh. They’re all pretty good. But why are those guys so quiet?’
His gaze settled on the Qin veterans standing perfectly still, showing no movement at all.
At that moment, an old soldier stepped forward from among the Qin men.
It was Jang Pung, a former military officer of the Qin Empire.
He offered a precise military salute toward the central tower where Jinhyuk stood, then spoke in a stiff, controlled voice.
“Reporting. We Qin natives are not the sort to flaunt individual skill. The weapons here lack uniform specifications, so there is a limit to what personal ability can achieve.”
Jang Pung’s words were rigid and formal.
Jinhyuk rested his chin on his hand and muttered in Korean.
“What’s he saying? So they’re not going to shoot?”
Beom Dal immediately translated Jinhyuk’s words and barked at Jang Pung.
“The Brigade Commander asks: are you making excuses, claiming the weapons are too crude to demonstrate your skill?”
Jang Pung answered without raising his head.
“No, sir! Qin arrows do not fly alone. If there are defects, we cover them with numbers and formation—that is the Qin way. Hand over all the remaining prototypes loaded on the carts. We will prove why we once ruled the Central Plains. We will demonstrate the power of Qin formation tactics.”
Beom Dal turned back to Jinhyuk and relayed the message quietly.
“Commander, they say they’ll shoot in a group. They claim that if the equipment is poor, they make up for it with numbers—that’s their law.”
Jinhyuk smiled with interest.
“Oh? Really? Beom Dal, bring out everything from the workshop. Let’s see what this stubborn old man wants to show us.”
A short while later, two more carts arrived from the workshop, and dozens of bows and crossbows were laid out on the ground.
Dozens of Qin veterans moved in perfect unison, each picking up a weapon.
Han Seong from Zhao snorted at the sight.
“Hah. What do they think they can do with a bunch of defective pieces? A bow must carry the archer’s soul. Gathering together like that…”
Wi Gang from Qi clicked his tongue as well.
“These are prototypes without proper sighting devices. Shooting them in a mass will only waste arrows.”
Yet despite noting the weapons’ flaws, the Qin men showed no panic.
Instead, they checked one another’s weapons and adjusted their positions.
They did not shout or boast like those before them.
They looked like nothing more than components of a massive killing machine moving solely under Jang Pung’s commands.
Jang Pung spoke in a low voice.
“Qin Empire natives—form ranks!”
Thud, thud, thud!
The sound of dozens of feet stamping the ground overlapped with perfect precision.
Dust rose from the parade ground like exhaust from a machine.
Their stride, knee height, and even the angle of their heads were identical, as if measured by ruler.
“Raise bows!”
Dozens of iron bows lifted. Though the bows themselves were irregular, the archers compensated by adjusting their own arm angles.
“Range: one hundred fifty paces! Adjust!”
At Jang Pung’s order, the archers’ shoulders moved in tiny, uniform increments. Not a single one stood out from the perfect horizontal line.
“Angle correction! Two degrees oblique!”
Click!
The archers’ wrists snapped simultaneously, like gears meshing.
In the chilling silence, only the metallic sound of bow limbs and arrowheads striking one another rang out in short bursts.
All individual emotion and hesitation had been stripped away. Only coordinates for slaughter remained etched into their arms.
“Full draw!”
An unpleasant friction sound unique to the prototypes filled the training ground.
Though the strings creaked and the limbs groaned ominously, the Qin archers and crossbowmen remained utterly motionless. They suppressed the weapons’ defects with their own bodies and the spacing between comrades.
Creaaak—!
Dozens of bowstrings were drawn at once, emitting a deep, unified hum.
It was less a sound than a massive vibration pressing down on the entire parade ground.
Even though the tension had reached its limit, not a single millimeter of tremor appeared at the fingertips of the dozens holding the bows.
They were statues—and at the same time, loaded catapults.
Jinhyuk felt a chill run down his spine.
‘Whoa… damn. These guys are actual Terminators. If the gear sucks, they just brute-force the specs with their bodies? Are they even human?’
Jinhyuk finally understood what it meant when people said Qin had no master archers.
They trusted not in the perfection of individual weapons, but in the “probability and statistics” produced when tens of thousands of weapons fired simultaneously.
It was not martial arts. It was the distilled essence of ruthless military science.
“Loose!”
Shhhhhhkkk—BOOM!
Arrows tore through the air with a sharp, tearing sound.
Dozens of arrows traced identical arcs, blanketing the sky before raining down toward the target.
It was a cold, precise “rain of death.”
Thud! Thud-thud-thud!
The targets 150 paces away, in front of the inner wall, were erased without resistance.
Though no single arrow had pierced through, dozens of arrows had been driven in without gaps.
The very center of each target was so densely packed with arrow fletchings that no empty space remained.
Han Seong stared down at the composite bow in his hands and muttered.
“I believed archery was an art… but those men have turned it into the mathematics of slaughter. Terrifying bastards.”
Wi Gang also shook his head, gripping his crossbow tightly.
“Even Qi’s precise mechanisms would be nothing but toys before their relentless system. If they had even ten thousand men properly equipped, no force in the Central Plains could stand against them.”
The Black Death troops now watched in terror.
They were overwhelmed by the fact that such a net of slaughter could be woven even with those defective, trash-tier bows.
When the bombardment-like volley ended, silence fell over the training ground.
The Qin archers lowered their bows without a single man breaking formation and returned to attention. The crossbowmen followed suit under Jang Pung’s command.
Jang Pung, leading the formation, stepped forward once more to the base of the central tower.
He dropped to one knee without the slightest tremor and clasped his fists in salute.
His voice, hard and restrained like clashing steel, rang in Jinhyuk’s ears.
“Reporting. The Qin marksmen have completed the mission. The crudeness of the weapons was compensated by numbers, and errors were corrected by formation. Brigade Commander, this is the ‘power of Qin’ we can prove.”
Jinhyuk struck the railing and muttered in Korean.
“Insane… So that’s what it means not to blame the equipment. Qin or whatever—they’re seriously dangerous. A properly built military system is this terrifying.”
Beom Dal confirmed Jinhyuk’s satisfaction and drove the final nail home.
“Did you see it clearly? This is the law and power of the battlefield! The Brigade Commander will now personally select the elite 400 who will wield these weapons! But remember—under Yan law, a slave soldier holding a ranged weapon is rebellion! The moment you take up these arms, you are no longer expendable fodder of the Wall Army. You become rebels who will cut the throats of your former masters!”
At Beom Dal’s declaration, the foreign veterans no longer sneered. Instead, they radiated fierce killing intent and steeled their resolve.
The terror shown by the Qin men had only ignited their survival instinct.
Jinhyuk curled his lips into a smile and murmured softly.
“Good. Look at those eyes. Every one of them has potential. Noh Hwi, Beom Dal—begin. We’re only taking the real ones.”
A brutal individual verification began.
Han Seong of Zhao, Wi Gang of Qi, and other elites were successively added to the Heavenly Wolf Division’s archer and crossbow units.
Final Selection Results
Veterans (out of 360): 320 passed.
Recruits (out of 140): 80 passed.
Total: 400 men.
Those who failed withdrew, while the eyes of the 400 who passed burned with ruthless killing intent.
Jinhyuk rose from the railing and issued his order.
“Beom Dal, take the men to the workshop. Have them explain everything they know about the bows and crossbows they just used. Since these are the weapons that will decide their lives, let them help build the finished products themselves.”
Beom Dal received the command and delivered one final roar.
“The 400 selected will march to the workshop immediately! There, help forge the partner that will keep you alive! Move!”
The 400 elites turned as one and began their march toward the workshop.