Chapter 65
Chapter 65
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 65
Chapter Title: Ambushing the Relief Force
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Geom Mojam entered the command tent and spoke in a low voice.
"The spies have slipped away."
"Toward Nihaseong?"
Geom Mojam silently nodded and held up three fingers. Sobu Son, who had been listening, asked with a curious expression.
"What's going on?"
"One of our soldiers was a Silla spy in hiding."
"How many?"
"We caught two, but it looks like there were actually three."
"Then shouldn't we grab them quick?"
"We let them go on purpose. To make them think we're heading for Nihaseong."
The three generals, upon hearing my words—even Yang Man-chun—showed surprised looks.
"Our target isn't Nihaseong?"
"Of course it is. But the real target is the relief force that Dalholju's lord will send to rescue it."
"You mean to smash the relief force?"
Instead of answering, I looked at Go Jeong-ui. He unrolled the scroll tucked at his side onto the table. It showed the march routes we had planned separately, our main camp's position, and the expected path of the relief force Dalholju's lord would send.
"Sorry for keeping my mouth shut. But to fool the enemy, you have to fool your own side first."
On Sa-mun was the first to react.
"I get that, but isn't it a bit early to spill the beans now? We're still at Sugokseong."
"The spies got away. Now they know our goal is Nihaseong. That means Dalholju's lord has to send a relief force, no question."
"Has to..."
Yang Man-chun muttered as if piecing it together. As expected from the hero who drove off Tang Taizong Li Shimin.
I glanced at Go Jeong-ui and said,
"Truth be told, my biggest worry was Dalholju's lord abandoning Nihaseong. Even if we take it, the gains wouldn't be worth the losses."
"Even for Nihaseong?"
I shook my head at Sobu Son's question.
"Even if we capture Nihaseong, there are dozens of fortresses lined up behind it. We'd have to take them one by one just to get near Seorabeol."
That was why Goguryeo never unified the three kingdoms. The brutally rugged terrain of the peninsula, paired with Silla and Baekje's fortresses built to exploit it perfectly. They were positioned to force any attacker into siege after siege.
"So we have to leap over those fortress obstacles."
"How?"
I pointed between Nihaseong and the coast at An-go's question.
"By smashing the relief force coming to its aid. We'll bleed their supplies and manpower dry."
"Crush the enemy army marching to relieve it? Just abandon the fortress?"
"Losing one fortress won't change the big picture. But destroying the relief force will sap their offensive strength."
That was the key difference between me—with my modern knowledge of war history—and these generals. To them, victory meant seizing fortresses and taking prisoners. But that wouldn't shift the overall tide. Plus, those defensive strongholds were tough nuts; every assault cost us dearly.
"Better to meet them in open battle and settle it clean."
The three generals nodded at my explanation. Sobu Son pointed to the red line on the map marking the enemy's projected route.
"So that's our target?"
"Yes. Around three thousand Silla troops, likely under Dalholju's lord himself."
"And Nihaseong?"
"We can attack after we win or just demand surrender."
"A real shift in thinking. How did I never consider this after a lifetime on the battlefield?"
I shrugged at Sobu Son's words, then shot Go Jeong-ui a look that said I told you so. He jumped in quick.
"I advised him on it."
"When?"
"Don't you remember?"
It wasn't that he didn't remember—he'd never said any such thing. I wanted to snap back but held my tongue. Seeing everyone praise the kid's smarts just made my gut twist more.
After some back-and-forth, On Sa-mun asked,
"How exactly do we smash Silla's relief force?"
"The escaped spies will report Nihaseong as our goal, so Dalholju's lord will march north with his army. If they're definitely hugging the coast, we'll wait for them at Meorirejae."
"Meorirejae?"
"A merchant who traded between Nihaseong and Dalholju told me about it. It's a depression hidden from outside view. Steep, but the pass drops straight to the coast."
"A head strike, eh."
On Sa-mun got it right away—experience told. But he voiced his worries too.
"It's their turf, though. They know Meorirejae better than us. Post a few sentries, and our ambush fails."
"We'll commit so few, sentries won't matter."
"How few?"
"About a hundred."
"The enemy has at least three thousand."
I replied to a stunned On Sa-mun,
"I know. But if we make them think we're hitting Nihaseong, won't their forces scatter?"
"Still, at least five hundred."
"Numbers aren't what matters."
I almost said timing was key but held back. Then added,
"I'll lead the vanguard."
"Lord have mercy. Too dangerous. No need to push this fight."
I shrugged off On Sa-mun's protest.
"I know why we're fighting this one. That's why I want to take responsibility."
"Still too risky. Let me—no, I'll lead it. You command from the safe rear."
"No. Countless men risk their lives because of me—why should I stay safe?"
Debate raged, but my plan was modeled on Oda Nobunaga's Okehazama. Punch through the enemy host and take their commander's head.
'Cleanest and simplest.'
Of course, diving into the enemy's ranks was dicey. But I had my aces.
Silence fell in the tent. Finally, Sobu Son spoke.
"Tell us our roles."
"Besiege and assault Nihaseong. Iri's Malgal riders will prowl the flanks, raiding as they go."
"Business as usual, to lower their guard."
An-go and On Sa-mun chuckled lightly at Sobu Son's words. And so the night passed.
The next day, the expedition passed Sugokseong and turned east. The mountain paths grew treacherous, but we'd sent men ahead to clear them. Thanks to that, we crossed the Taebaek Mountains without a hitch. I walked with the troops on foot through the valleys, swapping jokes and rubbing sore feet. In this rigidly stratified era, they were stunned—but I didn't care. It eased their hearts, and mine. Crossing what felt like the Alps to me, the wind turned crisp.
"Perfect season for battle."
Yang Man-chun, riding beside me on his white steed, grinned. I grinned back.
"You bought a fine horse, but why that armor?"
I'd figured he'd upgraded his gear, but he was still in the rough leather-and-plate set from Ansi Fortress, with a plain helmet devoid of ornament.
Yang Man-chun snorted.
"Fancy armor and helm just make you an arrow magnet."
"Plain might draw more eyes."
"Chance to show Silla how mighty Ansi's warriors are."
I didn't mind his bravado. He had the skill to back it—even against Geom Mojam.
I sobered and said,
"With you here, I feel solid."
"Rear's covered. Don't worry."
As we bantered, a shout came from the vanguard scouts.
"Nihaseong! Nihaseong in sight!"
Exhausted troops cheered. Death might await, but the grueling march was over—that joy won out.
"Here we go."
Yang Man-chun said tensely as we crested the hill. There it was: Nihaseong, perched on a small rise backing onto the blue sea. Drums echoed from within.
"They know we're here."
"They've got scouts too."
Drums swelled as beacon smoke rose. Distant, but Silla troops swarmed the walls, gray plumes curling skyward from their heads.
As Nihaseong went on alert, we pitched camp at the planned Pyeong Sabyeol—a sloped plain some five hundred paces out, with a small temple and a few thatched huts. Main base in the temple, tents around the huts. We dug a simple moat, drove in stakes. Meanwhile, Iri's Malgals scattered in bands. Per custom, we sent envoys demanding surrender.
Curiosity piqued; I blurted,
"I'll go."
"What?"
Geom Mojam gaped in horror.
"No need to freak—General Eulji Mundeok entered enemy camps too."
"B-but..."
I mounted quick before he could argue. Geom Mojam followed; Yang Man-chun tagged along for the fun.
Four of us—with a loud-lunged soldier for the parley—rode to Nihaseong. Its west gate sat atop a sheer slope, path deliberately zigzagging along the walls. Gazing up, Yang Man-chun muttered,
"Walls aren't sky-high, but climbing here's hell."
"And jammed tight to the slope—no ladders'll stick."
Yang Man-chun eyed the base.
"Yeah. Rush in blind with numbers, and we'll bleed bad."
"Exactly."
We scanned as we neared the west gate. As merchants said, no proper gate—just a ladder climb via a hanging portal. Walls lower here, but a gate tower loomed. Silla officers and archers packed it. Steep pitch forced us close.
Geom Mojam, face grim, blocked me. Ignoring him, I peered up, trying to spot the commander.
The herald bellowed,
"Enemy captain! Goguryeo's army stands at your gate. Ten thousand strong, more coming. When we charge, this fort's a candle in the gale. Surrender now—save your necks!"
No reply from the tower. For a moment, I dared hope surrender. But then a Silla general appeared in silver plate and a helmet with a long brim like a baseball cap, shattering the dream.