Chapter 151
Chapter 151
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 151
Chapter Title: Great King Namsaeng
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"We're heading to where the Black River and the Nan River meet."
It matched exactly what Ariyeong had mentioned before. Suppressing my joy at finally catching a lead, I replied calmly.
"Perfect. I was planning to check that area anyway. We'll set out right away—follow me."
And with that, I moved off without even waiting for a response. I took the lead, with Geom Mojam following close behind.
"They're coming with us."
"We might get ambushed again. Besides, turning down their goodwill would feel awkward."
"You're seriously sharp."
Yang Manchun's words made me shrug. Hiding our true intentions, our group headed northeast. There were mountains and valleys, but they soon gave way to vast open plains stretching to the horizon. The landscape had changed dramatically—Goguryeo farmers gave way to more and more nomads.
"Must be the cold weather."
Yang Manchun picked up on my mutter.
"Plus, there's not much water. Makes farming impossible."
Our conversation flowed naturally from there.
"Think they're still holding Gerheng?"
I pondered Yang Manchun's question before shaking my head.
"It's been too long. Fifty-fifty chance."
"If they don't have him, this is pointless."
"On the contrary, it'll reveal who's behind it. Then we can pull some of the Haeryang tribe to our side."
Yang Manchun immediately grasped my meaning.
"You're saying we'll recruit them."
"It bolsters our numbers. And they're elite cavalry who fight like demons."
"True. Our horsemen are no slouches, but beating guys who ride before they walk isn't easy."
"Tang will push the Tujue out front. We have the Malgal, sure, but the more the better."
"How big do you think Tang's invasion will be? A million like with Sui?"
"Not that massive, but still a threat."
Yang Manchun nodded at my words.
"Liaodong Fortress, Buyeo Fortress, Ansi Fortress—they'll all turn into battlegrounds."
I couldn't bring myself to say a massive fight was coming at Ansi Fortress especially. With history already shifting, who knew what would happen. As I fell silent, Yang Manchun gazed at the setting sun.
"As a kid, I had nightmares of enemies sweeping in from those plains and trampling Ansi Fortress. I'd run crying to my father every time."
"What'd he say?"
"He told me to haul ass to the walls if I had time to cry. Tears don't defend cities."
"Sounds like him."
"That's how you survive in Ansi Fortress."
"Ansi might need that mindset, but not everyone else."
"Of course. And truth is, without Goguryeo, Ansi wouldn't exist either."
Yang Manchun's sharp reply was followed by a glance back at the pursuing Palryunja and Monkey.
"If we track them to Gerheng, what then?"
"Rescue him first."
"And after? Nomads are like the wind. Tie 'em down tight, or they'll vanish."
"Some decent reward, maybe?"
Yang Manchun smirked at my response.
"Nomads are greedy by nature. Not a bad thing—just how they are."
"Why?"
"Farmers can hope for next year if this one's ruined. And no farmer risks moving elsewhere over one bad harvest. But nomads have no tomorrow. Lose your sheep or cattle, and you're starving. That's why they raid south every fall. No roots, no habit of promises or rulers."
"So, they're tough to handle."
"Different ways of life. Miss that, and you'll only see their dust trails."
He was recorded as just a great defender of Ansi Fortress in history, but clearly he had broad insight and empathy. We pressed north.
After three days, we left Goguryeo territory. Endless plains crisscrossed by big and small rivers stretched out. Plenty of space for farming, but too cold and dry. Still, I knew.
At the end of Goryeo, Joseon people crossed to the Maritime Province and farmed.
If we ever claimed this land, I'd farm it. All the while, Palryunja and Monkey followed quietly without much movement. Finally, we reached where the Nan River flowed down from the north to meet the Black River. Palryunja spoke up.
"Thank you so much for your help, my lord."
"In Goguryeo, everyone deserves safety and comfort. That's my job as an official."
"No need to say that. I've heard even dropped goods stay untouched on Goguryeo streets—and now I see why."
After his silver-tongued praise, Palryunja and Monkey mounted up and headed northwest along the Nan River. We pretended to go our way, following the Black River south. I asked Yang Manchun, who rode alongside.
"They're not really going that way, right?"
"No idiot would. They'll turn off at dusk or when they find cover."
"Tail 'em without getting spotted?"
"Geom Mojam's got trackers. We trust them."
We moved casually, then halted the column. We waited for Ariyeong and Asilbul to join. As the sun dipped, the horses' breath scattered into the darkening world.
That's when a flute-like whistle cut the air. Pheew! I instinctively looked up, but saw nothing. Yang Manchun, head raised, tensed.
"Someone's targeting us."
"What?"
Another pheew!, then a shout: "Signal arrow!"
Now I recognized it.
"Sound arrow!"
Used to kick off attacks—like a flare. Moments later, cries of "North!" rang out with earth-shaking hooves. At Geom Mojam's shout, our scattered retainers wheeled north. Yang Manchun drew his horse-mounted halberd and slung it over his shoulder. In the twilight, only sounds—no shapes—made it more terrifying.
"Who?"
"No idea. But they were waiting."
"Know who we are?"
"Grab one, ask."
No sooner had Yang Manchun spoken than an arrow thunked! into the ground a few paces ahead. Roaring hooves thundered from the northern horizon. Unknown foes emerged—several times our number at a glance. Their inhuman howls made me mutter.
"Orcs?"
I caught myself, but Yang Manchun was talking to Geom Mojam and missed it. Geom Mojam galloped over.
"Master. My men and I will hold here—return to Buyeo Fortress."
"What?"
"West is still clear. Go with Young Master Yang Manchun. I'll hold."
Relief flickered across Geom Mojam's resolute face—like he'd found his death place at last. It was a practical suggestion; I nearly agreed. Then nausea surged.
This is a sign my judgment's off.
Grimacing, I scanned around. Mostly barren plain, but a rocky hill to the south. I shouted to Geom Mojam.
"Head there and hold!"
He eyed the southern rocks and shook his head.
"Ambush likely."
"You think?"
Fear hit; I almost bolted to Buyeo. But nausea hit again. Meanwhile, attackers closed in—arrows whizzed overhead. I yelled to Geom Mojam.
"Trust me—rocky hill. Wait for Asilbul there."
"Understood. I'll lead."
Geom Mojam charged south with his men. Yang Manchun, who'd overheard, tilted his head.
"Why not flee?"
I glanced at the empty west.
"Feels like a trap."
"Got a good feeling about this."
He stuck close as we rode south. Glancing back, I saw a dozen retainers covering our rear. Still not used to some dying so others live—but no choice.
We sped to the southern rocky hill—a lone outcrop on the plain, dotted with trees. Not too steep, with surrounding slopes for defense. Geom Mojam, first up, dismounted, sword drawn, and bounded to the summit. I watched anxiously—no ambush. From the top, he shouted.
"Enemies from the south too!"
Yang Manchun marveled.
"Damn, spot on. How'd you know?"
"No way ambushers leave the Buyeo road open."
I shrugged off the brag and hurried up the hill. Dismounting, I climbed to the peak. Geom Mojam pointed west.
"Dust there. At least a hundred in ambush."
"Would've been bad if I'd run."
Ju Mong's spear tip would've helped, but no beating a swarm. As we surveyed, attackers ringed the hill thickly. Yang Manchun peered down.
"Nearly five hundred. Where'd they come from?"
Nomad garb, unintelligible shouts. That's when I realized I'd rushed in too naively. Yang Manchun sensed it and clapped my shoulder.
"Don't worry. I'll protect you, come hell or high water."
"Reassuring."
"Anyway, who are they? Capture one?"
Yang Manchun shrugged at the mob below.
"Hold first."
Attackers at the base loosed arrows en masse. We'd braced shields; low-angle shots did minimal damage. Horses took some hits. Dismounted foes howled, charging the slopes. Mostly steep, so they funneled to our ascent path. Watching, Gidoryang shouted.
"Fire!"
Retainers unleashed Yeon Clan crossbows and bows. Insane rate of fire rained arrows like storm; many turned pincushions midway up. Corpses tumbled, but more pressed on. Worried we'd run dry, I scanned. Plenty of throwable rocks on the rocky hill.