Chapter 160
Chapter 160
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 160
Chapter Title: The Shattered Lake
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The tray-like lake shattered in an instant from the onslaught of death. Blood began seeping into the waters that had watched so quietly until then. Under the full moon, the off-guard enemies were quite literally ripped to shreds. The battle pressed on amid unintelligible screams and howls. Overpowered in momentum and outmatched in numbers, the foes were driven back to the lakeshore.
The fight spilled into the lake itself. Desperate enemies, seeing no escape in any direction, plunged into the water. But the lake proved even deadlier. Anyone who fell once stayed down, unable to rise from the depths. In truth, as Adokbang battered his way past those who'd tumbled in, not a single one resurfaced. The clash had erupted out of nowhere and was hurtling toward a swift end just as fast.
'All those long-drawn-out fights in movies and dramas were total BS.'
Bone-deep realization hitting him, he resolved to make his contribution and drew Jumong's spear blade.
"Vital spot!"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than the blade shot from his hand, piercing the throat of an enemy charging through their fallen comrades. The foe spat up blood in heaving gasps before dropping to his knees and vanishing into the water. Yang Man-chun, having severed the stubborn resistor's arm and cleanly decapitated him, bellowed.
"Finish them! We're taking only a few alive."
His men roared in cheers at Yang Man-chun's command when blood-soaked Nak Sang-gwan approached and shouted.
"Signal fire from Yuseong. The bastards are coming soon."
"This is plenty. Let's pull out."
"We've snagged three of ours alive. Should be enough for interrogation."
"Got it. Sound the retreat."
Moments later, the horn blared once more. Nak Sang-gwan's men, mopping up the remnants, halted and turned to withdraw. He called out to his own subordinates as well.
"Grab the prisoners and move."
Yang Man-chun's booming voice led the chorus of echoes as they fell back. They loaded the non-fatally wounded captives onto spare horses. Amid the urgent horn blasts, the attackers hurried back toward the rocky hills. As before, Yang Man-chun led the charge, laughing heartily.
"Refreshing. Damn refreshing."
Back at the rocky hills, they caught their breath and tallied the kills. Roughly four hundred enemies down, give or take. They hadn't verified by counting heads, but the foe had been virtually annihilated. The only regret was letting their unknown leader—the mastermind behind it all—slip away. Unable to hide his disappointment, Nak Sang-gwan offered some consolation.
"He might show his face after this."
"Why? With his men wiped out, he'd burrow deeper into hiding."
Nak Sang-gwan shook his head at his question.
"For an ordinary outfit, sure. But we crushed them too thoroughly this time. If he doesn't patch things up fast, word'll spread across the plains like wildfire."
"All his careful work down the drain."
"Whoever he is, it'll pain him more than death. He'll overplay his hand."
"And we nab him then."
"Exactly."
The two shared a hearty chuckle when Geom Mojam approached.
"Interrogation prep for the prisoners is ready."
"How many total?"
"Seven captured, but two are too out of it for questioning."
"Understood. Let's go."
The interrogation site was before a cliff on one side of the rocky hills. Nak Sang-gwan's spearmen glared murderously as five bound prisoners knelt with hands tied behind their backs. Their faces and bodies were a mess of wounds. He stood before them, eyeing each one. There was the swarthy nomad skin and prominent cheekbones typical of herders, and the flat, broad nose of a southern Chinese.
Parading before them like an inspection, he met their gazes. One kept his head bowed; the other four looked up to lock eyes with him. Pointing at the boldest-looking one with bloodshot eyes, he told Geom Mojam.
"Shove him."
Geom Mojam advanced without hesitation and prodded the indicated prisoner with his spear shaft. A pitiful scream echoed as the man plummeted off the cliff, followed by the sickening crunch of impact. Watching from the side, Nak Sang-gwan muttered.
"Start by dropping the tough ones. Smart play."
The remaining four screamed. Even the one who'd bowed his head now looked up, appearing the youngest and most terrified. He asked Geulgeul Jung-sang.
"They all speak the northern tongue?"
"More or less."
"Then relay this for me."
Geulgeul Jung-sang placed both hands on his hips and replied.
"Speak, sir."
"Tell them: lie to my questions or clam up, and they end like their buddy who just dropped."
The prisoners reacted in their own ways. He stepped before the one who'd lifted his head last.
"Two questions. Where you're from, and who your boss is. Answer first, live. But."
Before he could finish, the head-bowed prisoner spoke up, sputtering desperately. Geulgeul Jung-sang had to ask several times for clarification before turning to him.
"Says he's from Takgun—that's modern Beijing."
"Why come all the way here?"
"Lost his folks and family to famine and disease, wandered as a beggar."
"So he ended up here?"
"Heard someone promise food if he followed, so he came. Joined recently, hasn't done anything bad—begs forgiveness."
In a way, his plight mirrored Geulgeul Jung-sang's own role as interpreter.
"Ask what he's been through since joining."
Geulgeul Jung-sang translated, and the man replied with a pleading expression.
"They taught him to ride and fight, then threw him into the group. Saw a few fellow Tang men like him who couldn't handle weapons—dragged off and killed on the spot. Or caught fleeing and executed. He's the only one left."
"Crueler than I thought. They're even mindful of loose lips."
Geulgeul Jung-sang nodded at his mutter.
"Surveillance was tight at base camp too, he says."
"Gave him weapons—what'd they have him do?"
Geulgeul Jung-sang questioned the prisoner briefly and answered right away.
"Just followed orders."
"Specifically!"
His patience fraying, his face tightened, but the prisoner spoke first, and Geulgeul Jung-sang translated faithfully.
"Raided Goguryeo merchants trading with nomad tribes. Paraded through small tribes to show off their power, and the defiant ones..."
The part Geulgeul Jung-sang skipped was easy to guess. Just as Ariyeong and Nak Sang-gwan had said, they were quietly eroding Goguryeo's influence from the shadows.
"More intricate than expected."
The wars between the three kingdoms and Tang in 7th-century East Asia left sparse records relative to their scale—mostly from the victors, Tang and Silla. Modern scholars struggled to piece it together. What survived focused on battles. But living it firsthand, he saw the undercurrents of espionage and shadow wars.
'Tang and Goguryeo didn't start clashing in 645.'
Tang Taizong's open invasion threats were just the surface; the maneuvers predated that. His head spun amid the complexity as the prisoner kept begging for his life. Geulgeul Jung-sang relayed it with a pained look. But the modern man who'd penned historical and mystery novels before possessing this body spotted the lie.
"Joined recently, yet he speaks the language fluently."
The prisoner flinched as Geulgeul Jung-sang translated. He babbled desperately; Geulgeul Jung-sang passed it on.
"Says if you spare him, he'll go home and live quietly."
"Tell him: give up the boss, live."
"Asked about the boss—says he's never seen his face. Doubts the others have either."
"Why no sight of him?"
"Rarely shows, always masked, heads straight to the deputies' tent."
"Never shown his face directly?"
Frustration mounted as intel hit a wall, but the wary prisoner piped up. Geulgeul Jung-sang relayed.
"Gathered the men a few times to speak, but wore a mask then too."
"What kind?"
"One he'd never seen before. Looked like a white tiger."
"Damn. Height? Build? Any standout traits—ask."
Words flew back and forth rapidly. Geulgeul Jung-sang translated.
"Small stature, narrow shoulders. But a booming, commanding voice that drew the ear naturally. And."
He questioned again, then continued.
"Seemed to limp on one leg slightly."
"One leg?"
"Yes. Right leg looked off—rumor was an old wound."
"Lame from injury. And?"
"Speech was a bit off. Like."
He finished the thought.
"A foreigner?"
"Yeah, he didn't know, but a fellow Geran tribesman said as much."
"Masked face, gimpy right leg, small build, narrow shoulders, slurred speech—not a nomad."
Lost in thought, Nak Sang-gwan chimed in with keen interest.
"Smells like Goguryeo, doesn't it?"
"Clues are out—time to investigate. Wasn't at their base with them, so probably holed up near Yuseong, puppeteering via deputies remotely."
"Meticulous bastard."
"And got major Tang backing. Bet even the Yizhou Governor-General's under orders to support."
His worries deepened hearing Nak Sang-gwan.
"Thought hitting their base would end it. Roots are intact."
"But we know where the roots are, and got leads on who."
Yang Man-chun's comfort didn't lighten the mood. As he geared up for the next question, one of Nak Sang-gwan's men whispered to him. Noticing, he asked.
"What is it?"
"Enemies inbound."
"Which ones?"
"From Yuseong. Looks like yesterday's survivor reported back."
"Numbers?"
"About three hundred cavalry. Scattered reconnaissance split them up. They're maneuvering south of the hills to block the road to Buyeo Fortress."
"Gotta fight to get back quick."
"We've got numbers, but casualties or captures could blow our cover."
He considered bypassing, but nausea hit as he visualized it.
"This is their ploy to delay us. Force a breakthrough."
Nak Sang-gwan nodded.
"I'll ready the men. Move out."
Nak Sang-gwan called to his subordinates, and those resting or tending wounds scattered about mounted up in haste.