Toward sunset, the walls of Hwaju filled with people.
As word spread that the battle was over, those who had been hiding emerged first and climbed the ramparts.
There were Jurchen village chiefs, Goryeo merchants, and clerks who had once served under the Commissioner's Office.
At first, they held their tongues.
They only looked out over the distant fields, and at the lone figure standing on horseback below.
It was Park Seongjin, his helmet removed, standing before the gate with blood still unwashed from his sword.
Then, from somewhere along the wall, a single shout burst forth.
"We won!"
It was short and rough, but it cut the air cleanly.
"We won!"
"We're alive!"
"We drove them out!"
The cries spread, rolling along the wall like a wave.
Some raised both hands high.
Some clapped until their palms stung.
"Hwaju has returned!"
"This land is ours!"
An old Jurchen man gripped the parapet and pulled himself upright.
His voice cracked, but it rang out loudly.
"This land was always taken from us!"
"Today is different!"
Before his words could finish, a roar erupted—
cheers tangled with sobs, loud enough to make the walls tremble.
Children joined in, not knowing the meaning, only mimicking the shapes of the adults' mouths.
"It's the general!"
"It's the general!"
Someone shouted,
"Long live Park Seongjin!"
A brief silence—
then the entire wall exploded.
"Manse!"
"Manse!"
"Manse!"
There was no order to the chants.
But their direction was one.
All were aimed toward the gate, toward one man.
Park Seongjin lifted his head.
Faces packed the wall—laughing, crying, shouting.
For a moment he said nothing.
Then, holding his sword inverted, he bowed slowly toward the ramparts.
That single motion sent the cheers surging higher.
"He didn't abandon us!"
"He didn't run!"
"He stayed on this land!"
That day, for the first time, the walls of Hwaju rang not with command,
but with joy.
When the fighting ended, the fields lay covered in blood and ash.
Park Seongjin dismounted slowly, wiping and pressing down the small cuts that marked his body.
It was the price of breaking through many with few.
The scattered wounds dulled his movements.
Before him lay the fallen man—Gi Cheol.
The silk cords of his armor were severed, blood spreading from shoulder to waist.
He was still breathing.
Park Seongjin spoke quietly.
"It's over. There's nothing left that your life can buy."
Gi Cheol spat blood and sneered.
"Fool… your king cannot kill me.
If he does, the Empire will bleed.
Can he really bear that?"
At that moment, Nangjang Jong-hui stepped forward.
His gaze was cold.
"Spare him."
Park Seongjin turned.
"What are you saying?"
"If he dies, the matter grows too large."
Jong-hui's voice was firm.
"He is the Empress's brother.
If he dies here, the tie between Goryeo and Yuan is severed at once."
Park Seongjin clenched his fist.
"If we spare him, he will become another calamity."
"Even so, do not kill him," Jong-hui said quietly.
"This must be borne by the king.
Handled by royal command, not by your blade."
"…If we send him to Gaegyeong, he'll spin his schemes again."
Park Seongjin stood there for a long while.
Then, slowly, he sheathed his sword.
Seeing this, Gi Cheol curved his bloodied mouth into a smile.
"Yes… that's how it must be.
That is your limit. Hah!"
Gi Cheol was bound in iron chains and placed on a litter.
The soldiers surrounding him watched with frozen eyes.
As they left the fields of Hwaju, Jong-hui spoke.
"Escort him to Gaegyeong.
The king will interrogate him personally, and preserve the Empire's face as well."
Park Seongjin did not answer.
The sky had sunk into gray, and the stench of blood had not yet dried.
Blood dripping from Gi Cheol's body traced a dark red line along the road.
Park Seongjin murmured,
"I know we must spare him…
but even His Majesty cannot carry this burden for long."
Jong-hui nodded.
"Even so, he must endure it now.
It is not yet time to stand against the Empire."
Three days later, the procession bearing Gi Cheol arrived at Gaegyeong.
A royal order was issued at once.
"Transfer Gi Cheol to the State Tribunal and interrogate him.
Establish his crimes, but suspend execution, to avert harm from the Empire."
The court stirred.
Some demanded immediate execution.
Others insisted on avoiding the Great Khan's wrath.
Even the common people had turned, ready to hurl stones at him.
Yet the king could not kill him.
The king spoke quietly.
"Gi Cheol is a criminal, and at the same time, my trial.
By sparing him, I evade the Empire's blade.
By binding him, I protect the sky of Goryeo."