Chapter 162
Chapter 162
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Translator: Ryuma
Chapter: 162
Chapter Title: Assault on Jeongchuk (2)
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The Royal Guard Battalion, established during King Sukjong's reign, was the youngest unit among the Seven Armies, excluding the Dragon Guard Battalion 2.
Thus, it could still display a vigor that hadn't yet decayed.
While the regular infantrymen had long since fled, the Guard's core force—the cavalry—was a standing army. Combining 150 capital knights and some 60 Haeseo knights, over 200 mounted troops waited in tense silence for their commander's orders.
Bloody speeches or resounding chants of response were customs alien to Joseon forces.
Joseon troops were trained never to obey verbal commands. Not even from the king himself.
At veteran officer Gu Seonhaeng's signal, the command banner—adorned with tassels—began to move.
The troops advanced or retreated according to this banner, hence why soldiers under command were called "those under the banner." Thus, the slow advance of the Guard Battalion's ranks was in itself a sworn vow of unity with their commander Gu Seonhaeng.
Even if the whole world mocks us, we will die for loyalty.
But this was no suicidal charge. Their pride as the newest and strongest of the Three Great Gates—Training Guard Bureau, Capital Guard Command, and Royal Guard Battalion—wouldn't allow it.
Romantics and fools were often lumped together, but they were distinctly different—and Gu Seonhaeng was even more so.
He hadn't released the crown princess's entourage out of foolishness. He had exploited them thoroughly.
He'd factored in the Guard's dire lack of infantry, making firearms difficult to deploy, and the Training Guard Bureau's advantage in seasoned gunners.
With royal kin in a sluggish palanquin at the fore, the rebels couldn't dare fire their guns.
Having caught up to the palanquin without wasting time on assembling troops, the Guard fanned out like a crane's wings in a movement that scarcely resembled an assault.
Before Jeong Hwi-ryang could react, the palanquin carrying the crown princess, princess royal, and royal grandsons was hemmed in, unable to veer off the road.
Escorting noble personages was the Guard's sacred duty. They made no mistakes.
Thus, the rebel welfare army wasted precious time assessing this bizarre procession.
The crown prince, now at the forefront, lowered his spyglass and turned to me.
"What say you? It's no royal palanquin, but given the urgency, we can set ceremony aside. Has Father emerged?"
The crown prince seemed to assume it was a surrender procession. But I had my doubts.
There was no aura rivaling King Yeongjo's.
No matter how weakened Yeongjo's position, he was still king.
And those who'd reached a certain level exuded not just immense presence, but a unique quality to it.
Like the Qianlong Emperor's effortless majesty I'd sensed in Beijing, or Yeongjo's eerie distortion at Jiksan.
Yet combining Sin Sukju's integrity and Guan Yu's patience yielded merely the vibe of an ordinary noble house—nothing exceptional in scale, hue, or form.
That palanquin was a paired type, flanked front and rear by horses, like mine. Unless unusual like me, it bespoke royalty. Thus, those aboard were...
"I'm unsure if His Majesty is there. But the crown princess with the royal grandsons seems certain."
No sooner had I finished than a foreboding premonition struck.
Just the crown princess and grandsons with an army?
Ideal if the Guard commander was politely returning the crown prince's hostages—but things rarely went so smoothly.
The crown prince and I soon got our answer.
One of the palanquin's escorts rushed forward in evident panic. A servant, by his look, waving his arms and shouting from afar in clear distress.
But I had no chance to channel Guan Yu's patience into sharper hearing.
A Guard soldier some distance off showcased their prized mounted archery with suspiciously fluid motions—as if he hailed from my acting academy. His arrow struck the servant squarely in the back, dropping him dead.
Even a fool could grasp the situation now. Murmurs rippled through our ranks.
The crown prince's brows furrowed.
"They dare hold royals hostage?!"
I hadn't expected this either.
Even victory would mean execution for Gu Seonhaeng and his officers.
No matter how Yeongjo despised his son, the dynasty's survival was his ultimate hope. He couldn't tolerate the likes of Gu Seonhaeng.
Everyone knew how Wu Qi of Chu draped himself over his king's corpse to spite his assassins.
Yet those archers were all executed. States must preserve order.
That's why we hadn't preemptively assaulted Namhansanseong despite the rebels.
But Gu Seonhaeng shattered that taboo, as if mocking us "past folk" as idiots.
I pinned the subject on him because Yeongjo would never order such madness.
A lucid king wouldn't destroy his house thus; better to hold out and summon the crown prince.
Had Yeongjo already been confined by the military? No—that left Gu no reason to fight.
What breed of madmen were these?
Meanwhile, Kim Seong-eung panted up, whispering urgently.
"With nobles ahead, we can't fire first. But they can loose arrows! The Guard has many perfect mounted marksmen—a dire threat. What are your orders?"
Positioned on the palanquin's flanks, they were.
Moreover, arrows could arc if needed; guns couldn't.
More precisely, I'd learned Joseon's "current" guns couldn't.
I wanted to hurl Yust, smirking back there like "should've imported mortars sooner," as a human shield.
Overturning archery's traditional edge over guns? No ordinary foe.
No choice. I grabbed the strongbow and arrows the crown prince had given me.
But he seized my arm.
"One mistake, and disaster."
Hey, no disaster. Don't you trust your ancestors?
Yet I soon grasped his intent and lowered my arm.
Just as Gu's victory wouldn't spare him execution, my uncanny marksmanship felling their commander wouldn't spare me impeachment—for aiming at a royal palanquin.
I conceded; shelving Lee Seonggye's archery for Namhansanseong.
Then swiftly broadcast the coupists' clichéd declaration:
Never fire first—arrows or guns!
Unlike his brother, Gu Seonhaeng wasn't charging to a bloody end.
With one-tenth the men, he waged optimal warfare: battle for legitimacy.
He aimed to win—even now.
Just not to survive.
The signal bearer galloped forth with the envoy banner. Eerily, straight along the axis aligned with the palanquin.
Reining in, he shouted from horseback:
"The Guard commander's words for Crown Prince: Why bring troops for treason?!"
I called (expendable) Yust, figuring the prince would relay via proxy.
But the crown prince didn't. With a voice startling even Pony, he bellowed:
"What impudence to question me?! Having threatened the royal palanquin, now you scheme to seize the covered carriage too—that's your treason! What more need be said?!"
The signal bearer didn't flinch.
"We but follow royal edict. Fearing calamity from unintended clash, bring just one company—about a hundred—and claim the forward carriage yourself!"
A hostage drama straight from a script. Too predictable; even the prince wasn't surprised.
I glanced at him.
Kim Seong-eung's face screamed "You're not going, right?"—but I thought the opposite.
He would go. He'd come for this.
The notion of his consort and sons as "backups" in Seoul didn't apply. What differed from Father using Lady Mun's children or the grandson as "backups" to kill him?
Indeed, he ordered one company to escort him. Kim Seong-eung, wise enough on priorities, fumed briefly then obeyed.
As he rigged every safeguard feasible against half their number, I spread word of the king's hostage ploy with women and children—while prepping my countermeasures.
I hadn't endorsed the crown prince's folly.
As even Kim Seong-eung agreed, if persuasion wasted time, countermeasures were efficient.
Thus, fully geared, I accompanied him.
Thankfully, he accepted my "backup plan." Otherwise, I'd have bolted solo.
Distance now fifty paces. I narrowed my eyes.
"The Guard commander's come himself."
"Naturally. Traitor or not, he can't sics subordinates after summoning me."
Acting king already?
Gu's eyesight beat mine; spotting me, he roared:
"Traitorous wretch Kim Unhaeng! Step from the crown prince!"
The prince donned the sternest face befitting his station.
"Since when dare you raise your voice before me?!"
"My regrets, Your Highness."
Gu continued insincerely:
"But with that vermin at your side, how can loyalty and filial piety hold? Without that vile Kim Unhaeng, no son would point a blade at his father."
I checked Gu's hands—just in case. No pistol. Only his considerable aura pulsed like a beast's heart.
The prince queried:
"What has Kim Unhaeng done? Is there fouler than you, holding the forward company and grandsons hostage to threaten Father?!"
Spot on. Hostage-taker judging whom? (Ignore barbarian stares from behind—imagination.)
But I never heard Gu's reply. A scream erupted from the palanquin:
"Father!"
Grandson or Yongdu military—indistinguishable child voice. The prince's jaw clenched.
Combined ages barely reached adulthood. Such terror was unbearable.
The prince declared:
"Other matters at the肃章門. Send the palanquin!"
"As I said: come claim it."
Gu was resolved to die. No use raging.
Silence. The prince complied with the vile hostage-taker.
Our tense Training Guard elites—100 strong—advanced ten paces with us.
Hey, Guard lads. Gripping bows so openly? Too obvious. Even if we all suspect, no decorum?
Then, that gut "eyeballing" sense pinged.
Channeling Dalmun, I crooked fingers to whistle piercingly.
Preeee! Behind, troops posing as the prince's honor guard flung open hidden crates.
Jeongdong Kim clan's secret envied at peril: over a hundred carrier pigeons swarmed the Guard like mountain waves.
Long-range comms trumped weapons in any expedition.
Agents sans pistols abounded; none sans radios. Guns saw surprisingly little battlefield use.
Thus, bringing my long-trained pigeons was natural.
Wild birds couldn't swarm thus. Recall my magpie scam at Anjeongbok's—armies trained en masse, like pigeons.
The Guard, prepped only to snipe our hundred, couldn't respond.
"Such devilish trickery! Fire! Shoot them down!"
Gu shrieked, swatting clinging birds.
But his voice reached mere dozens—who lacked time to nock arrows.
21st-century "flying rats": their scent, feathers, beaks, talons raking faces. Expecting 200 mounted archers to cope? We'd already won.
"These damned birds!"
Quick hands ditched bows for slashing swords.
But these were true birds, not 21st-century poultry.
No blind swings connected. Panicked warhorses bucked uncontrollably above all.
As prepped with the prince, I spurred toward the palanquin.
Damn, action scenes weren't in Scholar Kim Unhaeng's plan. Wrong lord means exhaustion.
Trusting Pony, balancing on the croup, I wrenched the palanquin door like tearing flesh. Bellowed:
"Punishment later!"
Forcing into the royal women's and grandsons' palanquin.
A woman—likely Princess Hwan—screamed; the crown princess, knowing my face, calmed her.
So I'd planned, sorta. Amid chaos—whirling world, dust, feathers, din—total blur.
Glancing back: prince on Pony, autonomous boost engaged, fleeing. I tuned him out.
Today's Jeongdong Kim secrets blowout sale.
Special Skill: Yi Yeon's Speed
[Active]
Active Skill: Yi Blood Affinity
[Active]
Like that old flick's trailer: bike bursting forth. Rending screams, horrific jolts, neighs shredding sanity.
Last sight: Gu lunging to grab, rebounding off the palanquin.
Kim Seong-eung gaped.
"That legendary shrinking-earth technique?!"
The paired palanquin—horses fore and aft—careened at impossible speed. Not rapid steps, but bounds spanning jang.
He knew Jeongdong Kim's rumors of mastering oxen-beast mysteries.
But he'd figured lifelong soldiering trumped him on horses.
Only Ancestor Yi Yeon raced palanquins through history. Not speed-built.
Horses or bearers "pulling" was cumbersome; fore-aft tandem demanded ginger coordination.
Kim Unhaeng transcended that.
Like Brits first spying steam locomotives, Kim wondered if nobles inside survived.
No time for fancies.
Not far anyway. The palanquin skidded into camp like modern skid marks, violently.
The prince on Pony returned soon after (shocking Kim anew: knight outpacing palanquin).
As execution-shy Kim tumbled out rolling, the prince glanced once and ordered Kim Seong-eung:
"Training Guard will return soon. What dawdle?!"
Kim snapped to. Pre-briefed troops fled sans glance back.
The Guard milled confused sans commander.
Even hale, Gu would've struggled.
If Kim wielded ancestor's skills, Training Guard were his soldiers. None on earth could catch them.
Kim Seong-eung commandeered forward special forces. Yust, dazed by Eastern mysticism, stirred post-slap.
Soon, only dazed Guard amid settling feathers remained.
Palanquin escorts—Jeong Hwi-ryang, Kaoru, servants—invented "tumble advance" with future knowledge, returning. Late arrows hit only unlucky few.
Now, fitting reprisal.
Forgetting iron rules, Kim Seong-eung waved the banner himself, roaring:
"Blast 'em!"
Dutch non-pros, few in number, reacted swiftly. Cha Je-gong's dozens of European light field guns for northern expeditions belched fire.
Author's Notes
1. Dramas often show generals barking orders obeyed instantly—many such scenes ahead too. View as skipping tedium.
Actually, Joseon forces—like all pre-radio armies—used flags and drums. "Even heavenly sages (euphemism for king, lest irreverent)" needn't be obeyed by voice—from late Joseon military manual Byeonghak Jinam.
Of course, small units used verbal. East and West alike scaled "voice range" to company size.
2. Meaningful arcing cannon fire (over cover) emerged in Europe later. Mortars existed (daewangu, sowangu) in Europe and Joseon, but tricky in field vs. fixed forts.
3. Joseons knew palanquins slower than wheeled carts. But roads sucked, and ceremony trumped—persisted.
Example: Late 19th Joseon envoys to Japan rejected Meiji's carriages, insisting palanquins. Amid unrest, they guarded protocol to avoid Japanese entanglements.