Chapter 61
Chapter 61
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 61
Chapter Title: Great King Namsaeng
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“Wrap the axe blade in cloth. I don’t want to see inside someone’s head.”
Adokbang smirked and picked up the jacket he had taken off. Godalbal raised his voice at the sight.
“It’s fine.”
In lieu of a reply, Adokbang slammed his axe down on a rock lying on the ground.
With a dull thud, the rock split cleanly in two. Godalbal swallowed hard.
Adokbang wrapped the axe blade tightly with the jacket and assumed his stance. Geom Mojam naturally took position in the center.
I nodded, and Geom Mojam called out, “Begin!” before swiftly stepping back.
The moment it started, Adokbang hoisted his axe high and brought it crashing down. Godalbal raised his spear shaft to block, but the blade whipped around with centrifugal force and struck his shoulder.
“Urk!”
Godalbal yelped and staggered back. Adokbang advanced another step and swung sideways. This time Godalbal managed to block with the upright shaft, but only by leaning back as far as he could to evade.
“Not bad.”
He had grasped the trick of dodging right after the initial strike, at least. He evaded decently from there on, but the first blow had taken its toll. Pushed all the way to the wall, Godalbal thrust straight out with his spear. Adokbang dodged nimbly to the side, then whipped the axe low. The blade caught Godalbal’s ankle, and he crumpled to the ground.
Geom Mojam shouted at once.
“Enough!”
Yang Man-chun, standing nearby, chimed in.
“More impressive than I expected.”
“He got one-sidedly crushed.”
“He had a few chances to thrust at Adokbang mid-fight but held back.”
“How would you do against him?”
“An axe beats a sword. Spears, I’m not so sure.”
I couldn’t help chuckling, feeling affirmed in my judgment.
I crossed the front courtyard to where Godalbal lay slumped against the wall and offered my hand. His face was full of dismay, nose streaming blood.
“You alright?”
“I’ll head back to Ogolseong.”
“Didn’t you want to fight on the battlefield?”
“I can’t stay here after this humiliation.”
“I’ll show you how to overcome that shame.”
“Why look after me like this?”
I gave a short reply as he wiped the blood from his nose.
“Because I need you.”
“A guy like me?”
Instead of answering, I stepped back and glanced at Adokbang, who had been watching us.
“This friend here juggled cartwheels in an acrobatic troupe. But he saved my life when I needed it. If you’re someone I need, I don’t care about your status or background.”
“If that’s true, I’ll follow you with my life.”
“Thanks. Get up and take a short rest. Geom Mojam will show you to your quarters.”
I gave him a look, and Geom Mojam approached. Adokbang, jacket back on, extended his hand as well. Godalbal smiled and took it.
As they walked off, a suitable spear for Godalbal came to mind.
“A bardiche should do the trick.”
Lighter than a guandao and versatile for thrusting or slashing—perfect for a spear master like Godalbal. I headed straight into Bin Yeon-gak and sketched one out for Go Jeong-ui. Ham-a happened to be there, so I showed him.
“A spear with a curved blade? First I’ve seen.”
“It’s not for soldiers fighting in formation.”
“Give me a few days, and I’ll make one.”
He said it casually, but I spotted dark circles under his eyes.
“If it’s tough, bring some hands from Sui Captive Village.”
“We’re short-staffed even for cartwheels. Can’t spare anyone.”
“I’ll cut your tribute. No worries.”
“Thank you, Master.”
Ham-a’s face lit up with a grin, only to fall again.
“I haven’t finished the Goguryeo Fire you ordered. With the campaign so close, I’m sorry.”
“No need. We need months more before marching anyway. Wasn’t planning to use it this time. How far along?”
“Pine resin and pitch mix burns steady and won’t go out easy, but spreading it takes time.”
“Try soaking gravel in Goguryeo Fire and packing it in jars.”
“Gravel?”
“Yeah. Fire it from a Yeon Clan Cannon—it’ll smash inside the walls.”
“Putting it out would be a nightmare.”
“Exactly. Start there, then experiment with additives like sulfur or bone meal.”
“Understood, Master.”
Ham-a left looking much relieved. I was catching my breath when a raindrop splattered on the bridge of my nose.
I looked up—storm clouds blanketed the sky. Without a calendar, I often lost track of the seasons.
“Monsoon season already?”
No sooner had I spoken than the downpour hit. I ducked under Bin Yeon-gak’s eaves. Go Jeong-ui stepped out and peered at the sky.
“You’re no Zhuge Liang—why stare at the heavens?”
“Zhuge Liang? Who’s that?”
I nearly ribbed him for not reading Romance of the Three Kingdoms, then caught myself. It was from the Yuan dynasty, after all.
“Shu Han strategist. Helped Liu Bei.”
“You aiming to be Liu Bei?”
“Nah, Cao Cao.”
Go Jeong-ui shot me a puzzled look. I gazed up at the rain-swept sky.
“It’ll be sweltering once the monsoon breaks.”
“No weather for war.”
“Guess we wait till autumn.”
“Wars need to be swift, but we can’t push it.”
Truth be told, like Yeongnyu King, I had no desire for war—but I couldn’t voice it. I was grateful for the rain and heat. It meant the men who might die because of me could spend more time with their families.
Preparations pressed on steadily through the monsoon and muggy heat. I kept meeting Maemul Merchant Guild traders who’d scouted Niha Fortress and the surrounds. Silla intel flowed in steadily.
Ham-a and his artisans from Sui Captive Village refined the Yeon Clan Cannons. The three generals and Godalbal gaped in awe. They loaded jars soaked in Goguryeo Fire—lighter than stone, flying up to three hundred paces. Gido-ryang personally overhauled the Yeon Clan Crossbows. And at last, I recalled the Instant Legolas blueprint. Not a crossbow—a reloader fitted to a regular bow.
The Instant Legolas was leagues more complex than a Yeon Clan Crossbow. Luckily, I remembered that German fellow’s build-and-demo video.
Stroking my wife’s swollen belly, I sorted my thoughts. The key was the compound bow: pulleys on the limb tips let you draw with minimal force. No constant nocking either. Gido-ryang drew on his know-how for improvements and picked out decent archers from the ranks for hands-on training.
Meanwhile, I ran war games with the command staff—taking turns pitting the three generals against us, devising strategies and probing weaknesses.
The most inspired ploy came unexpectedly from Yang Man-chun, the one with the diced-radish mug.
“Assuming they’ve perfectly grasped the point of this war.”
Yang Man-chun eyed me.
“If I commanded the Silla army, I’d throw everything at targeting him.”
“Me?”
I thought it absurd, but everyone nodded along. O Sa-mun, arms folded in thought, prompted him.
“Be specific.”
“We march on Niha Fortress, Dalholju’s lord sends relief forces as expected. We besiege, and they pitch camp in some awkward spot nearby.”
Heads nodded in agreement all around. Yang Man-chun, eyeing the fortress model, continued.
“Skirmishes to gauge our numbers and main camp. Then they hit the main camp with everything.”
“Sounds suicidal.”
Yang grinned at An-go’s objection.
“Sure does. But it’d rattle us plenty.”
So Bu-son nodded at the reply.
“I’d hold position till their intent’s clear. Could be a trap.”
“By the time they figure it out, Silla’s raiding the main camp. We’d fall back to protect Yeon Namsaeng’s life.”
O Sa-mun looked stunned at the rundown.
“Main camp in chaos? Their assault crumbles.”
“That’s the play. Behead him if we can—or at least force the main camp to retreat.”
“Seizing the initiative.”
Yang squinted as O Sa-mun put it.
“That’s the heart of the hunt. Chase your mark till it panics, then it blunders.”
The three generals all nodded at Yang’s explanation. Even I had to admit it was fresh thinking.
“Casualties?”
“Two thousand tops, maybe. They wouldn’t blink at trading it for your head.”
Chilling words, but par for the course in this world where lives had their price. O Sa-mun praised Yang and asked.
“Countermeasures?”
Yang’s answer was simple.
“Put the main camp where they least expect. Ever hunted boar?”
An-go nodded at the question.
“Did back at the shrine.”
“Thick hide—spears beat arrows. Charge on horseback and thrust.”
“That’s how I did it. Set traps and lured ’em too.”
“Boar’s quick, but not horse-quick. Mark one, you don’t fail. Except sometimes.”
I asked as I listened.
“When?”
“When it charges head-on.”
He mimed a spear thrust.
“Not fleeing—coming right at you. One shot to stab. Most miss.”
“It gets close, though?”
“Zips right past your side at speed. You hesitate, scared to whiff it. That’s when it bolts.”
“Snatching life from the jaws of death.”
Yi Sun-sin’s words before Myeongnyang came to mind: those who cling to life die; those who embrace death live.
While I pondered, Yang pointed between Niha Fortress and the coast.
“We surround Niha, Silla’s Dalholju troops advance along the shore. Stash main camp midway—they’ll be baffled.”
So Bu-son gave a slight nod.
“Makes sense. Mains usually pull back. Might even withdraw on their own.”
“Best outcome.”
I cut in as they talked.
“Hit the castle first, or smash the relief?”
All four answered the same.
“Relief first.”
Yang, quickest off the mark, added.
“Crush the relief, and the garrison’s morale tanks—castle falls easy.”