What Matters Are Legs That Won't Bend
"General...! We surrender! Please... please lower that bowstring! We offer our tribe's fate to you!"
The desperate scream of Elder Batu scattered across the fortress courtyard.
Jinhyuk finally pried open his rigid fingers and withdrew the Black Bear Bow.
The arrow had been nocked, but the battlefield remained in a tense standoff on the verge of explosion.
The elders groveled on the ground, but the young successors and warriors behind them still gripped their weapons, glaring with beastly eyes.
Especially the successors of the previous chieftain's bloodline—they radiated killing intent, as if they couldn't accept such humiliating surrender.
Beom Dal twisted Jinhyuk's silence into a signal for a blood purge.
He turned to the elders with a chilling smile.
"Elders, listen well. The brigade commander has no interest in your lives as a whole."
"But he demands the blood of those arrogant successors and their underlings who slaughtered our Iron Blood Unit's comrades."
Beom Dal paused, locking eyes with each elder one by one.
It was a ruthless proposal: Abandon your tribe's legitimacy and beg for your lives.
"If you truly intend to surrender, subdue those traitors with your own hands and present them before us."
"If your loyalty to the previous chieftain outweighs your tribe's survival, say so now—before the brigade commander's patience runs out. Prove it!"
The moment Beom Dal offered this "path to survival," Elder Batu's mind raced.
He glanced back, sending a covert signal to his core warriors.
Now's the time. Forget the previous generation's honor! We must survive to preserve the tribe's seed! Take down those reckless successors!
The seasoned mid-aged warriors loyal to Batu broke ranks in an instant.
Using Beom Dal's justification as their shield, they turned on the successors of the chieftain they once served.
Clang! Clang-clang! Thud! Argh!
Screams and clashing metal mixed in chaos.
The elders' warriors tripped the young holdouts, choking them from behind.
A gruesome scene unfolded: kin twisting limbs and seizing weapons with their own hands.
The successors recoiled in shock at the betrayal but were overwhelmed by the commoners who had lost the will to fight and the elders' superior numbers.
One by one, they were slammed to the ground.
"Elders! You treacherous old bastards! Mmph! Urgh!"
Gagged and bound with limbs wrenched behind them, the successors and key warriors were dragged to Jinhyuk's feet in a line.
About fifty young warriors were forced to kneel in a row.
Behind them, the elders' warriors pressed blades to their necks.
Now Jinhyuk had to dismount.
The sensation in his groin had long vanished, and his lower body felt like a thousand pounds of foreign flesh.
He gripped Beom Dal's shoulder tight and threw himself from the saddle.
Thud! Ugh!
Jinhyuk's heavy child-sized armor slammed squarely into Elder Batu's prostrate back.
Gah~! Cough, cough!
Batu screamed and flattened against the dirt, but Jinhyuk stood rigidly atop him, expressionless.
In truth, his legs had no strength left; the elder's back was merely a crutch to maintain balance.
Jinhyuk suppressed his trembling legs and took one step onto flat ground from the elder's back.
I can't falter. The moment I step forward, I'll collapse. Stumbling now ends my dignity.
He rooted himself like a stake.
Standing motionless and unyielding, he gazed down at the line of successors before him.
His bloodshot eyes from pain and twisted lips from suppressed nausea made him look more savage than any torturer—a ruthless predator.
Jinhyuk spat through gritted teeth, his voice low and ice-cold with the taste of blood.
"Beom Dal."
"Yes, Brigade Commander."
"Settle the accounts. Not one left alive."
At Jinhyuk's command, Wiji Gang drew his sword and approached slowly.
Then, the elders' warriors pinning the bound successors suddenly unbuckled their curved blades from their waists.
Kneeling, they offered the blades politely with both hands to the approaching Iron Blood troops.
This was no mere surrender of weapons.
Handing over the nomad's pride and sole defense—their curved swords—vowed absolute submission: no resistance, no matter the slaughter to come.
The Iron Blood troops snatched the blades with cold smirks.
Now, not only was there no fence protecting the successors; even their suppressors stood empty-handed, awaiting the general's judgment.
"You heard! It's the brigade commander's order! Avenge our comrades! Cut every last one down!"
"Ooooh! Settlement! A blood settlement!"
The Iron Blood troops advanced behind the lined-up successors.
The terrified successors writhed in resistance, but the elders' warriors—who had surrendered their arms to prove loyalty—yanked their hair, forcing heads forward and fixed.
Slash! Crunch! Rip!
Dull thuds of heavy swords severing neck bones filled the fortress courtyard.
Wiji Gang's crude blade caught on a successor's bone and failed to decapitate cleanly; he gnashed his teeth and sawed through.
Fifty heads rolled to the ground in a heap, geysers of blood soaking the dry earth black-red.
The surviving tribesfolk watched their kin die without a scream, pounding their heads silently on the ground in mute horror.
Jinhyuk stared straight at the massacre without a flicker.
In truth, he lacked the energy to look away, his lower body paralyzed, toes immobile—forcing him into this "front-row view."
But to the nomads, it was pure terror.
A man who didn't blink through dozens of executions, never turning his back—his merciless immobility was the most fearsome thing they'd ever witnessed.
Once the executions ended, Beom Dal commanded toward the fortress interior.
"Wiji Gang! Jo Pil! Secure the battlefield now! Move the wounded inside for treatment immediately!! The Heavenly Wolf Unit, recover every weapon and armor from the corpses without exception and haul them to the fortress!!! Clean the field spotless."
As the slaughter concluded and only the metallic stench of blood lingered, Beom Dal issued another stern order inward.
The moment it ended, a chilling sight overwhelmed the courtyard.
Blood-soaked and gasping Wiji Gang and Jo Pil, plus the severely wounded hauling themselves upright— all 120 Iron Blood troops turned toward Jinhyuk in unison, as if rehearsed.
Clank~!
The heavy clash of armor and broken weapons reverberated inside and out.
Those with crippled legs leaned on comrades or crawled into position.
120 warriors lined up like a massive wall before Jinhyuk.
And simultaneously, they dropped to one knee.
One hand braced the bloodied ground, the other formed the military salute—fist to chest or cupped in embrace-fist—to their superior.
120 gazes locked solely on Jinhyuk's eyes.
Wiji Gang unleashed a beastly roar from his chest's depths.
"We shall obey the brigade commander's will! For washing away our wretched grudges and soothing the souls of our fallen brothers... this grace we shall never forget, even in death! We, the 120 Iron Blood troops including this Wiji Gang, from this moment pledge to be your shadow—leading the way to the Yellow Springs itself at your command!"
Behind Wiji Gang's roar, Jo Pil and the 120 Iron Blood troops chorused.
"We shall obey the command!"
120 roars shook the courtyard.
Jinhyuk nodded slowly, accepting their loyalty.
But the ordeal was just beginning.
From past noon into afternoon, as the sun dipped west, Jinhyuk didn't move a single step.
With bulging eyes, he overlooked the 8,000 prostrate nomads in the courtyard.
It looked like a victor's stubborn resolve—no gaps shown to foes—and a bizarre punishment born of his physical limits: unable to take even one step.
Wiji Gang and the Iron Blood troops, Heavenly Wolf Unit, and Ten Thousand Demon Lights bustled about their tasks.
The Iron Blood troops, retrieving fallen comrades' bodies and wiping tears, glanced back repeatedly in awe.
Their new leader stood motionless through the long sunset, vigilantly watching the enemy.
The brigade commander... won't retreat a step until we're done, guarding us.
In their eyes, Jinhyuk was no mere commander.
A divine being, enduring like a mountain to shield their backs amid death's threat.
But behind that immovable aura lurked hellish truth.
I can't bend. The instant my legs buckle, I'm a bow-legged cripple who can't even ride. I'm Guan Yu... Admiral Yi Sun-sin... I am the God of War...
For half a day, Jinhyuk brainwashed himself, battling agony and his crumbling lower body.
The 8,000 nomads thought he stood guarding them; Jinhyuk was desperately holding out against gravity and numb muscles.
To repay his dignity, troops bound broken arms to chests and hauled enemy gear, cleaning the yard.
For the nomads, that time was hell.
Jinhyuk's crushing gaze stabbed their napes all afternoon.
A silent warning: Defy me, and arrows fly.
Until sunset stretched shadows long, he glared like a predator rationing even blinks.
Finally, evening glow dyed the fortress red; battlefield cleanup complete.
Bodies stored, looted arms stacked in warehouses, wounded all inside.
Only immovable Jinhyuk and guarding Beom Dal remained at the gate.
As eyes scattered in relief, Beom Dal sidled up, draping his cloak wide to hide Jinhyuk's lower half and support him.
"Brigade Commander... it's over. Everyone's inside. You... you endured so much."
Jinhyuk couldn't reply. His fingers trembled gripping Beom Dal's wrist.
His body, enduring half a day from that state, had far exceeded limits.
To avoid showing his back, he leaned fully on Beom Dal, vanishing into the gate with eerie steps—like gliding on clouds (truth: legs dragging).
Watching from afar, Elder Batu pounded the ground.
"He only leaves after sunset... Truly a god of war who allows no gaps."
Deep in the fortress inner chamber, as the heavy door shut.
Crash! Thud!
Jinhyuk collapsed flat.
Waaah~! Urp, blech!
Stomach acid and bile soaked the floor.
Jinhyuk clawed the ground, tears streaming.
Legs still locked O-shaped, unstraightenable; groin screaming like torn flesh.
"Beom Dal... you... fucking bastard... I'm dead... I can't feel my legs... below my waist feels like someone else's body... uwaaah..."
Forgetting dignity, he buried his face and sobbed.
From dawn to dusk, upheld by sheer don't collapse will—the cost was devastating.
Muscles shrieked as if shredded; mental strength long depleted.
"Wow... Brigade Commander, you're hardcore. Taking 120 salutes and even nodding in that state. Even that vengeful ghost Wiji Gang teared up at your back, saying he'd dive into hell for you. You're a living war god to them now."
"God my ass... I... I can't even go to the bathroom... Beom Dal... fix me somehow..."
Jinhyuk's pitiful confession drowned in Beom Dal's laughter.
"Brigade Commander, you really... didn't bend once. You should've seen Batu's terrified face..."
"Wasn't bending... it wouldn't bend, you asshole...! Straighten... my legs...!"
In the fortress, awe and fresh loyalty oaths to the "immovable general" Jinhyuk echoed—mingled with wails for the fallen Iron Blood troops.