Chapter 55. Turned Away at the Gate
Meanwhile, on the previous evening, Seo Uitaek submitted a false report.
He stated that he had gone out to intercept the enemy but had achieved nothing, and that Lee Youngwoo had gone missing.
It was, in truth, something already known.
The report was delivered not at the usual main command tent, but atop the gate tower of the West Gate.
General Lee Heesong himself had rushed there in haste.
Yet his complexion turned pale in an instant.
"Is he dead?"
"I cannot say. He was surrounded by enemy cavalry. He must be dead."
"You did not confirm the body?"
"No."
Lee Heesong rebuked Seo Uitaek.
"Did it have to be done that way?"
"It was something Your Excellency had permitted."
Lee Heesong pulled his thick frame back.
"When did I ever—!"
Pressed for breath, his voice rang like iron scraping against iron.
"No—what I meant was… General…"
"I said that a man who commits insubordination must not be spared. When did I ever tell you to throw a sage's disciple into the enemy ranks and have him killed?"
Words shift with the slightest change of tone.
Seo Uitaek immediately understood that Lee Heesong had altered his position.
The phrase "a disciple of a sage" explained everything.
It also meant: you will bear all responsibility.
Even so, there were years they had shared.
Could one cast him aside so easily?
He could not plead for his life using that as a shield.
To bear responsibility—this was a man's honor.
Still, there were words that had to be spoken.
"I understand. I will take all the blame. Everything is my fault."
"Yes. That is how it should be."
The corner of Lee Heesong's narrowed eyes curved with cunning.
It was an expression that seemed to justify himself to someone unseen.
—*
Afterward, Lee Heesong went to the residence of the sage.
A house had been prepared in the quiet northern part of the fortress, where no one passed.
Access was barred to all outsiders.
Though it lay within the walls, no footsteps crossed its threshold, and the place carried the air of a hermitage.
It felt as though mist might coil upward at any moment, as though careless words themselves would violate the stillness.
The atmosphere pressed down upon him.
As Lee Heesong moved to enter, he was stopped at the gate.
A young sage extended his sword forward.
Around him, it felt as though an immense barrier had been drawn.
"I have come to see Sage Baek."
"The Sage has ordered that no outsiders be admitted."
"I am Lee Heesong, General of the Northern Expeditionary Army."
"I know."
"And still you call me an outsider?"
Nowhere else would he be treated as such.
A cold blue light flared in the young sage's eyes.
"That is a standard used in the world below. To those of us who dwell in the mountains, it carries no meaning. Speak from down there, if you must—announce yourself as General of the Northern Expeditionary Army."
"I have something urgent to convey."
"I am not skilled enough to carry your words. Come again later."
"I said I have something to say…"
At the young sage's refusal, the adjutants accompanying Lee Heesong glared fiercely, as though ready to leap forward.
The young sage drew his blade a mere third from its sheath.
They knew.
These men were all masters.
Even dozens of ordinary warriors could not overcome a single one of them.
It was, in part, why the Goryeo army could exist intact in this desolate land.
Above all, they held no hesitation in wielding their blades.
To them, worldly rank and status were empty illusions, unworthy of consideration.
At any moment, they would draw steel and enact what they believed to be justice.
There were only a few small huts, with no one coming or going.
It was impossible to tell whether anyone was inside.
The silence was absolute.
With soldiers, he could reduce the place to ashes in moments—
yet Lee Heesong did not dare.
As he turned away, his steps heavy, the young sage spoke.
"It would be better if you did not meet him. The Sage is struggling to restrain his anger."
Lee Heesong lowered his head deeply.
It meant that everything had already been understood.
He knew.
He knew that he himself bore responsibility for the disciple's death.
What could be done?
He had to explain, somehow—through words.
"Where has he gone?"
"Where else would he go?"
The answer held many meanings.
He would be searching for his disciple's body.
"I will return."
"No. The Sage will come to you."
"What?"
That was far more terrifying.
Lee Heesong turned, his steps reluctant to move, his shoulders sagging.
He had to contain the situation.
Thoughts rose like clouds, yet nothing ahead could be seen.
Politics has its place, but there are lines that must not be crossed.
To them, politics was nothing more than internal treachery, committed in pursuit of rank.
Those who should face the enemy turned inward instead—
how could such an army stand?
In a world where promotion required the offering of wealth,
how could upright soldiers ever emerge?
An army that bowed and bowed again, even sending their own wives to serve the convenience of superiors—
could such an army truly fight the enemy?
Ties of school, region, and blood bound men together into factions,
and those who did not belong could never rise.
Within the tearful confessions of countless officers who retired as rangjang—
a rank akin to lieutenant colonel—
there lay a single word: impossibility.
Was this politics truly for the army?
Or was it, in truth, a rebellion against the very world they claimed to serve?
Perhaps the future must be sought not among those who rose to the highest ranks through political maneuvering,
but within the quiet, untainted resolve of those who chose to remain as rangjang.
When the nation stood in peril,
it was they who had saved it.
There is nothing complicated.
Change the army's system of appointment.
Begin by removing those who claim it cannot be changed.
Cut away the webs of school, region, and blood that bind them.
Men like predatory beasts climb to the highest ranks,
feeding on the wealth of those beneath them,
silent even when their subordinates' wives are dragged into servitude.
There is nothing else to consider.
One serves the command of the nation as a calling,
and fulfills one's duty with diligence until the end.
That is the life of a rangjang.
Having no desire to rise through corruption,
they are never chosen.
They do not resent it.
They never sought more.
There was no thin thread of political meaning to grasp,
not even the faintest one.
Watching lesser men ascend with ease,
they turned away in silence.
Another world, another life—
such thoughts came only once.
Only when their children stood before their eyes.
They had given their entire lives to the defense of the nation.
To fulfill one's role faithfully—
that alone made for a life without regret.
Why, then, seek anything more?
The convergence of Seo Uitaek and Lee Heesong,
and the cooperation of men like Yoon Jiwoong—
in the end,
drove Youngwoo out.