213.
The King's Secret Command — Establishing a New Order in Hwaju
At dawn the next day, a thin mist hung over the sky of Hwaju.
When the drum sounded three times before the gate, a royal letter bearing a golden seal arrived.
Nangjang Jong-hui entered the command tent and received it with both hands.
The land of Hwaju has, since ancient times, been the root soil of Haedong.
For nearly a hundred years, Gi Cheol's faction disturbed the people,
and the Yuan commissioners used this as pretext to exploit them.
Now is the time for the king's law to take root once more.
Nangjang Park Seongjin is not to rule by force,
but to govern through the hearts of the people.
When the people's hearts return,
the land of the realm will find its proper place on its own.
Beneath the letter, the king's own handwriting stood clear and firm.
Jong-hui and the senior officers bowed deeply.
"We shall obey the royal command."
From that day, Hwaju changed.
In each garrison, representatives of the people were appointed in place of soldiers.
Jurchen village chiefs, Goryeo merchants, and even clerks from the former Commissioner's Office were summoned to sit together.
Jong-hui spoke.
"From today, this land has one root.
There is no difference because one is Jurchen, nor because one is Goryeo.
All who live here are the same people."
The people did not believe the words easily.
Those who had lived under the rule of the Commissioner's Office for a century found Goryeo law unfamiliar.
They assumed Goryeo's rule would be temporary as well.
They saw little reason to commit themselves.
Taxes were cut in half, and corvée labor was abolished.
The gates were opened and a market established.
Jurchen traders and Goryeo artisans came and went side by side.
The sound of iron being hammered and cloth being woven rang out together.
Park Seongjin watched the scene from the hill by Hwaju Castle's north gate.
"When people return, the land finds its place on its own."
He repeated the king's words to himself.
In place of the Commissioner's banner, Goryeo's blue Five-Directional Flag was raised.
Children's laughter returned, and elderly Jurchen men muttered that they could hear old songs again.
But peace did not last long.
After the spring rains ceased, the sky grew unnaturally clear.
The market buzzed with bargaining voices, and the furrows of the fields gleamed with moisture.
Then it happened.
From the west, black dust rose.
A single rider galloped ahead and loosed an arrow.
The shaft struck the gate tower.
From its tip hung a strip of red silk, bearing a single character:
〈伐〉 — Punitive attack.
Park Seongjin climbed the ramparts.
Beyond the distant ridges, troops were pouring in without end.
Each banner bore a different emblem, yet the soldiers were one force—
the remnants of the bu-won faction, a mixed army assembled with Empress Ki's money.
At their head stood Gi Cheol.
He was supposed to be confined in Northern Pacification, yet here he was again.
The dragon-patterned armor upon him glimmered faintly.
"Surrender!"
"All who defy Her Majesty the Empress are traitors!"
Park Seongjin slowly removed his helmet.
The thought crossed his mind that to end this endless war, he would have to cut them down.
Yet he could not kill Gi Cheol.
Could they withstand the Empress's wrath if he did?
Reality was merciless.
"If the Empress is the mother of the Empire, then I am the son of this land.
If a mother sells her son, then that mother is the traitor."
The horn sounded.
Black cavalry surged forward like a tide.
Knowing the castle's forces were thin, the enemy rode boldly around its walls.
"Open the gates and we'll spare your lives!"
Park Seongjin raised his hand.
The curtains covering the sides of the gate were pulled back.
KWAANG—!
No further signal was needed.
Goryeo's great crossbows erupted at once.
Bolts as thick as a strong man's arm tore through the air.
The leading riders fell, but those behind did not stop.
It was a hired army—
even death had been calculated as a cost of business.
Park Seongjin drew his sword.
"By royal command, we protect the people!"
He mounted his horse.
The Warrior Detachment followed.
They kicked open the gate and charged out.
They did not cling to the walls for defense.
They opened the gate and met the enemy head-on.
The Warrior Detachment led, Signal Guards thundered after them,
and the newly raised local defense forces joined in.
Swords and spears crossed, hooves churned the mud.
Park Seongjin lowered his grip on the reins and patted his horse's neck to steady it.
The horse dropped its body and surged forward.
A foe in the vanguard lunged with a spear.
Park Seongjin kicked off the saddle and leaned aside.
His curved blade swept across in a flowing arc.
The arm holding the spear was severed, and the man tumbled from his mount.
A second enemy struck from the flank.
Park Seongjin twisted the reins, wrenching his horse's head aside.
The horses' shoulders collided.
With the impact, his blade descended from above.
The helmet split, and the body was flung from the saddle.
Third. Fourth.
He did not stop.
He cut, shoved, and passed through.
The sword never halted, the horse never lost speed.
In an instant, the vanguard collapsed.
As the front line split, those behind slowed.
Into that hesitation, Park Seongjin drove straight.
His target was the center.
Gi Cheol's banner was waving directly ahead.
The dragon-patterned armor emerged through the dust.
"Gi Cheol! Today is your end!"
Gi Cheol hauled on his reins and raised his spear.
"Your arrogance will devour you!"
The two horses collided head-on.
The spearpoint struck like lightning.
Park Seongjin lowered his body and let it glance aside.
Steel scraped against steel with a shriek.
He seized the spear shaft and dragged it inward.
Horse crashed into horse.
Saddles brushed, their bodies nearly touching.
In that instant,
the curved blade flashed.
The edge found the seam of the armor precisely.
Metal plates parted, flesh opened.
Gi Cheol's body arched backward.
"For the crime of selling the country, repay it with your body."
The blade struck again.
Gi Cheol spat blood as if exhaling his last breath.
The spear slipped from his hand.
He fell from his horse.
When he hit the ground, his body bounced once, hard.
Blood spread across the muddy water.
At that moment, the flow of the battlefield stopped.
Gi Cheol's banner fell.
The center collapsed.
Command vanished.
An army bound by money lost its reins.
One man turned his horse first.
Another followed.
Someone threw away his spear.
Someone flung off his helmet.
They fled faster than they had fought, shoving one another aside.
Banners tore, formations dissolved.
What remained was not an army,
but only the hollow shape of one built with money.
Park Seongjin pulled on the reins.
His horse stopped, blowing hard.
He watched the enemy scatter for a long time.
The sun was sinking.
Raindrops began to fall onto the mud—
rain washing away blood.
By dusk, the battlefield was silent.
Park Seongjin lifted his eyes to the sky.
The rain continued to fall.
It was rain to cleanse the blood.