554.
The First Clash in the Fog — The Wave of Spear Cavalry
The air along the shore trembled.
At the moment when a thousand cavalry seemed to hold their breath in perfect silence, Park Seong-jin raised his hand.
"Fire."
Bowstrings quivered all at once.
Ping— shiiik— wooshooshoosh!
A rain of arrows tore through the darkness and poured down onto the loose landing formation.
They struck cleanly.
"Aaaargh!"
"Aaaagh—enemy!"
"Block it! Block it!"
The front ranks of the five-file column collapsed outright.
The screams were short.
"Ugh—!"
"Run! Run!"
They had just landed—
a force standing roughly in line, waiting for orders.
They never imagined an enemy would already be here.
They never imagined a volley like this.
The arrow rain came again.
And again.
Then five times over.
Even while galloping, the shots struck true—
because the distances had been marked in advance, from a hundred paces down in fifty-pace intervals.
It was the result of Park Seong-jin driving stakes into the ground for men who lacked battle experience.
Piiiii—ik— pip!
Piiiii—ik— pip!
Even at full speed, the archers loosed in perfect rhythm to the fire-control signals.
Just by pouring countless arrows into exact points, the balance had already tipped.
All that remained for the enemy was confusion.
Too late, they raised shields.
They didn't have many.
They crouched behind armor, trying to hide—
but it didn't fully stop the arrows.
They were being beaten one-sidedly.
"Return fire!"
"Shoot!"
But the waegu bows, though large, had short range, and there were few archers.
Park Seong-jin's second gesture fell.
"Spear forward. Charge."
The front ranks of cavalry thrust their spears out together and shook the sandy shore.
The dust kicked up by hooves clouded the coastal darkness.
Then the spear points punched through the first line.
Thud!
Crunch!
Smack!
Enemies caught on the spearheads were flung back one after another.
They fell like autumn leaves in a gale.
This was the difference between cavalry and infantry.
The horses behind trampled the fallen without slowing.
Bodies and armor jammed together in the deep hoof-craters carved into the sand.
The rear ranks of the waegu screamed and recoiled.
It was a spear carried on the full momentum of a charging horse.
There was no way the line could hold.
The shockwave of the spear cavalry shattered the enemy formation.
Into that gap, Park Seong-jin leapt.
His body cut through the air as he advanced—
brushing past one man's throat,
kicking away pressing armor,
sweeping the arm off a second,
driving his foot into a third man's chest and hurling him backward.
The breakthrough was a blade slicing an entire axis out of the line.
The gap he carved was so clean it could be seen with the naked eye.
"Hold them!"
A waegu officer tried to shout—
—and his head lifted into empty air.
Park Seong-jin's sword had taken him.
As the second wave passed, the Goryeo troops pulled back to open distance.
"Fall back! Back!"
The waegu tried to retreat—
and the moment their feet touched the ground—
Crack.
Thunk.
Crunch.
Caltrops (蒺藜)* pierced straight through bare feet and straw sandals.
Iron spikes shaped like nails, piercing both bare feet and straw shoes.
Those who stepped back lifted their feet and staggered.
They collided with those pushing forward.
They fell.
Over them fell a second rain of arrows.
Ping— shiiik— wooshoosh!
The flag-bearers.
Those shouting to hold the line.
Those raising shields.
They collapsed one after another.
But the elite in the rear were different.
Even in chaos, they formed up.
"Don't retreat! Kneel!"
At the command, they dropped to one knee and raised their shields.
Spears thrust forward.
A square formation—
a kneeling shield wall locking the line in place.
Only now did the face of a regular army reveal itself.
Nearly half were down,
yet those who remained set their resolve to stand until death.
Wind scraped across armor, ringing with hard metallic clatter.
Park Seong-jin drew the spear cavalry back.
"Good. Now they finally look worth fighting."
The battlefield was on the verge of turning again.
Normally, when half a force falls, it loses its fighting power.
Command breaks down.
Unit types lose cohesion.
Most officers are already dead.
But these men calmly formed a square.
They filled the gaps with fallen comrades' shields and armor, enduring the arrows.
They used their dead as cover.
"Hoh."
The corner of Park Seong-jin's mouth curled, just slightly.
Someone was commanding them.
Their gazes drifted backward.
Toward the shore—
where a narrow path led back.
Where, if they reached the ships, escape might still be possible.
A thin hope.
Narrow.
Soon to burn out.
The moment they turned, the Goryeo troops would fall on them like wolves.
They had already lost half.
Lose more here, and they would never stand again.
Blood-tears blurred their sight.
Between the two armies—only several dozen jang apart.
The fighting paused.
Because Goryeo had pulled back.
Sand scattered on the wind.
Ahead: the waegu kneeling behind shields, backs to the sea.
Behind: Goryeo troops re-forming their lines, horses snorting.
Then a white flag rose slowly.
"Let's talk!"
One waegu shouted.
Then others followed.
"Let's talk!"
"Let's talk!"
"Let's talk!"
"Let's talk!"
The entire shoreline echoed with the repeated cry.
Song Yi-jeong looked at Park Seong-jin.
"Commander, what should we do?"
Park Seong-jin shrugged.
"If they want to talk, we should at least listen."
"What would we demand?"
Song Yi-jeong answered.
"Surrender."
Park Seong-jin said,
"If they were going to surrender, they wouldn't open with talks."
Song Yi-jeong asked,
"Then should we loose another volley?"
Park Seong-jin replied,
"Arrows are a waste."
"Those are things you trample."
He walked with Song Yi-jeong to the center where shore and path met.
The enemy commander stepped forward.
He was short.
A black face-mask covered his features.
Park Seong-jin spoke, his voice carrying weight.
"Take it off."
The commander flinched and lifted his hand, removing the mask.
A middle-aged man with sharply cut eyes was revealed.
The younger officer beside him removed his mask as well.
Between sea and sand, the two commanders faced each other.
Park Seong-jin spoke.
"So. Why did you want to see me."
The waegu commander replied,
"We have no intention of fighting."
Park Seong-jin asked,
"You bring a thousand soldiers and say you don't intend to fight."
"How does that make sense?"
The waegu said,
"Open the way, and we'll withdraw."
Park Seong-jin's eyes narrowed—very slowly.
A trick.
Always a conditional.
If you do this, then we'll do that.
As he listened, villages they had passed rose in his mind—
charred ruins blackened to the bone,
bodies beyond recognition,
the marks of slaughter and fire,
the nauseating stench.
Withdraw—so you can burn somewhere else?
Park Seong-jin shook his head slowly.
His voice dropped low.
It settled like a predator's growl.
"Just die here."
The words were not meant only for the waegu commander.
They were cast toward the entire shoreline.
It wasn't loud.
The fury of hwagyeong rode the wave of his qi and spread outward.
Several in the front rank wet themselves where they stood.