Chapter 121
Chapter 121
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 121
Chapter Title: Great King Namsaeng
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Geom Mojam, having received his orders, commanded the nearby soldiers to hurry up. Watching that, Yang Manchun muttered under his breath.
"The Silla bastards must have gotten some sleep."
"That's the point. If they move out in the morning, we'll trail them and chip away at them bit by bit."
"Their feet will be slow, and their reactions sluggish. That's when the Malgal cavalry really shines."
"So when are you going to fight?"
Yang Manchun's playful glint faded from his eyes as he replied.
"When the enemy scatters or loosens up under attack."
"Think you can find that moment?"
"Of course. My eyes are sharper than they look."
"Anyone can watch. What matters is making the call."
"Just watch, my friend. I won't let you down."
"Fine. You give the attack order. I'll observe."
"Yeah. Better get some rest now. It'll be exhausting trailing them all day tomorrow."
Yang Manchun grinned and headed back to his men. I called over General Iri and asked him to keep a sharp watch, then lay down beside Geom Mojam to catch some sleep.
The next morning, birdsong woke me. The area was bustling, so I looked around, and Yang Manchun approached.
"Hey, friend, rise and shine. The enemy's on the move."
I gazed at the Silla camp he nodded toward. Many tents had been struck, and the vanguard had already departed.
"They're moving early."
Stretching as I spoke, Yang Manchun replied.
"Tormented all night, they'll tire after a short march."
A group of Malgal horsemen descended the mountain. Once the dust they kicked up settled, Yang Manchun ordered his men to advance. I mounted up with Geom Mojam and followed at a distance—to let Yang Manchun freely command the cavalry I'd brought along. Geom Mojam and a band of retainers encircled me.
The Malgal cavalry overran the Silla main camp in the wake of their vanguard. Straggling soldiers and laborers scattered in panic under the assault. The Malgals spread out, setting fires here and there. Most Silla troops were already gone, but seeing their recent spots turn to infernos would dent morale.
Black smoke billowed skyward amid the Malgals' piercing war cries. Yang Manchun's flail-wielding cavalry crept along the ridgeline. They shadowed the northeastward-marching Silla army from afar. Geom Mojam, watching, marveled.
"Impressive."
"Yang Manchun?"
"Yes. He's keeping perfect distance—not too close, not too far. Easy to strike or retreat if needed."
"Must be nerve-wracking for the Silla army."
"No doubt. Especially with the Malgals rampaging too."
As Geom Mojam said, the Malgals popped up around the marching Silla columns, shrieking to fray nerves before darting in like the wind to loose arrows from composite bows. Some struck home. Finally, Silla cavalry peeled off from the formation. The Malgals fled without a backward glance, scattering every which way. The Sillas could only stare in frustration.
But with Silla cavalry now screening the flanks and rear, Malgal exploits dwindled. The Silla advance slowed accordingly. As hit-and-run grew tough, the Malgals scattered caltrops ahead or felled trees. When Sillas cleared them, Malgals loosed arrows to harass. Several wielded the bolts General Kidoryang had taught them—devastatingly effective. Silla tree-clearers crumpled, infant-sized bolts in their napes.
Yang Manchun admired it.
"Fired from two hundred paces. Incredible."
"Came from behind, so they couldn't dodge?"
"Tiny arrows, invisible—and they don't slow down."
As Malgals kept blocking the path, Silla sent a cavalry detachment ahead. Yang Manchun's eyes sharpened.
"Moment of truth?"
"Tell the Malgals to lure that lead Silla cavalry further forward."
"Then?"
"Look there."
Yang Manchun pointed ahead to a low hill where the road curved sharply left. The slope was steep enough to warrant a bypass path.
"Once they round it, they'll be out of sight."
"That's your window?"
"Have the Malgals block briefly from that left-side woods."
"You'll hit the vanguard while they do?"
"Risky, but wiping out the lead unit hits harder than flanks or rear."
I couldn't help smiling. Yang Manchun, indeed.
"Alright, handle it your way."
I turned to Geom Mojam.
"Relay what Yang Manchun just said to General Iri."
"Understood."
As Geom Mojam instructed his subordinate, Yang Manchun wheeled his horse. His voice turned grave.
"I'll bring victory to the Grand General soon enough."
"Win and return."
Yang Manchun's flail cavalry surged down a trail. My ceded cavalry followed. Watching them go, I asked Geom Mojam.
"Best spot to view from?"
Craining his neck, Geom Mojam pointed.
"Another hill there. Should have a good vantage."
"Let's go."
Geom Mojam led with his retainers, sticking close. We picked through dense brush and fords, then a narrow path barely single-file. Somehow, we paralleled the Silla march. A few Silla riders veered our way but backed off when Geom Mojam nocked an arrow. They probably mistook us for bait with Malgals or Goguryeo ambushers nearby.
We curved left along a stream to a small, island-like hillock Geom Mojam had picked. It barely fit me, him, and a dozen retainers. But the view was decent—especially the curved hill Yang Manchun had targeted. Silla vanguard riders there scanned about, but sluggishly, wearily.
"They look beat."
Geom Mojam eyed them.
"Small wonder. Malgals gnawing at them front and back since dawn. And Chiljung Fortress is ours—they're in for hell on arrival."
"So we harass, herd them as we please."
Great captains East and West always fought where and when they chose. This battle drove that home.
They haven't even reached midpoint, and the Sillas are already spent.
Silla riders atop the hill dispersed, awaiting the main body. Meanwhile, Malgals emerged before it, goading the vanguard's passage with arrows and javelins at the shield-bearing main column. The advance halted.
Meantime, the cavalry vanguard crested the hill. Pre-positioned riders reformed and pressed on. Winding paths lay beyond, Chiljung Fortress hazy in the distance. The five-hundred-odd lead cavalry rounded the sharp rightward curve.
But the main body lagged, harried by Malgals.
Once a march halts, restarting takes ages.
Malgal attacks intensified; the main body stalled short of the hill. Hidden Malgals rolled rocks and logs onto the path, then bolted. Not enough to bury like in films, but disruptive enough.
What a mess.
Detours would scatter them worse.
The march stalled again as soldiers cleared debris—but distant Malgals peppered with bolts. Caltrops too; some clutched feet, collapsing.
These piled-up nuisances froze the main body; the gap to the vanguard yawned hundreds of meters. Sensing wrongness, the cavalry halted.
That instant, Yang Manchun's riders burst from adjacent brush. Spear cavalry led, flail cavalry behind, in perfect formation.
"Spears pierce, flails smash."
Learning flails' short-reach flaw at Gammi Fortress, Yang Manchun led with spears. A shrill pipe sounded; Goguryeo cavalry charged.
Caught flat-footed, Silla riders floundered—then shredded in moments.
"Flail cavalry combs through the spear cavalry's breach."
Amid screams of men and horses came gruesome crunches of torsos and skulls pulped by flails. Dull thuds, sharp cries. Silla riders tumbled lifeless, faces pulped.
"My God."
Post-sweep, barely a hundred Sillas remained—few unscathed. The ground littered with burst heads, crushed faces, pierced chests.
"Perfect."
The clash lasted mere minutes, yet devastation. Survivors stood dazed. Geom Mojam gaped in awe.
"Luring them like that, then striking... masterful."
I boasted.
"Told you he'd fight well."
Geom Mojam nodded approvingly.
"I pegged you as Ansi Fortress lord's spoiled youngest at first. Time to rethink that."
As Geom Mojam marveled, the Silla main body crested—then froze at the carnage.