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The Resolve of the Eastern Campaign
Hanyang Fortress in Wuchang lay smothered in heat.
The surface of the Yangtze glittered painfully bright, and even the wind crossing the river carried warmth.
Standing atop the battlements, Chen Youliang gazed far to the east.
Somewhere beyond that horizon lay Yingtian—the capital of Zhu Yuanzhang.
"We've barely calmed the eastern winds.
Thanks to Goryeo."
His deputy, Chen De, bowed his head.
"Your Majesty, it was not the wind, but the enemy's momentum that was broken."
Chen Youliang laughed softly.
"Momentum."
His eyes traced the light on the river as though following it with his fingers.
"That momentum was snuffed out all at once.
Thanks to a Goryeo general."
The river flowed east.
In that unquestioned current, Chen Youliang read his own fate.
"The flow of the world is already speaking to me.
The river flows east.
So do the eyes of the people."
That night, a grand council was convened in the Hanyang military camp.
Zhu Deming, Chen Cong, Wang Ren, and envoys from the elder councils gathered.
Chen Youliang pointed to the great map hanging on the wall.
"To the west, Sichuan is held by Ming Yuzhen.
He was once my man, but now he's ready to crown himself king.
The terrain is harsh, the roads long.
Even if we go, there is nothing to gain.
We leave it for later."
His finger moved south.
"Guangdong and Guangxi—mountains and sea, nothing more.
Little silver, little grain.
The people hate war.
Even if taken, they're useless."
Then he traced north.
"In the north, Yuan remnants and Red Turbans are killing each other.
There is no path through that chaos."
He paused, then brought his hand down hard toward the east.
"There is only one direction.
East.
We march on Yingtian."
He tapped Jiangsu and Anhui.
"This land is fertile.
Grain, salt fields, crafts, waterways—all converge here.
Take this region, and the rice of the south and the iron of the north fall into one hand."
The advisers swallowed.
Chen Youliang continued,
"Once we hold this, men like Zhang Shicheng and Fang Guozhen will be pushed aside."
Under the lamplight, an eerie calm settled over his face.
"Take the east, and you hold half the realm."
He looked at the shadow cast by his own body across the candle.
"After that, it's simple.
Campaign south to Hainan.
March north to Yanjing.
When You and Yan are reclaimed, I become Heaven itself."
Zhu Deming bowed deeply.
"Your Majesty has already received the Mandate of Heaven."
Chen Youliang shook his head.
"The Mandate is not given by Heaven.
I make it."
His eyes shone like tempered steel.
"If I split the river and turn the wind,
Heaven will revolve around me."
That night, the order went out.
"All forces march east.
Subjugate Zhu Yuanzhang of Yingtian."
War drums thundered.
From Hanyang's harbor, hundreds of warships lit their fires.
The Yangtze flowed like a vast crimson band.
Soldiers roared in unison.
"Eastern Campaign!
Eastern Campaign!"
Amid the shouts, Chen Youliang stood alone.
The wind rose, snapping the banner at his side.
Upon it was carved a single inscription:
Great Han.
Summer in Yangzhou — The Envoy's Question
Meanwhile, summer winds in Yangzhou were heavy and damp.
The river breeze carried the smell of blood, iron, and old timber.
Three months after the city fell, two characters flew atop the walls:
Goryeo.
Lee In-jung stood on the battlements, looking out over the river.
Across the water lay Zhang Shicheng's encampment.
Red banners.
Rough, echoing shouts.
One swell of the river, and it would all turn to blood.
A guard reported,
"An envoy from the Ming has arrived."
Lee In-jung nodded.
"Good.
Let him in."
A man entered the corridor.
A faded blue robe.
A letter case at his waist.
The lingering scent of long poverty followed him inside.
His eyes were sharp; his speech, respectful.
"I greet the Supreme General of Goryeo."
"You've come a long way," Lee In-jung replied with a polite smile.
"Yangzhou still reeks of the battlefield."
The envoy bowed.
"By order of Lord Liu Bowen."
"If the blood on the front lines can be washed away with words,
he says we should choose that path."
Lee In-jung nodded.
"Wise words.
If war can stop and diplomacy take its place, I could ask for nothing more.
Is it not because diplomacy fails that wars are fought?"
Carefully, the envoy moved to the heart of the matter.
"We have heard that the Goryeo forces cooperated with Chen Youliang.
Now that he is shaking the realm, why do you aid him?"
Lee In-jung lifted his teacup, letting the fragrance answer before the words.
"Why…"
For a moment, steam veiled his face.
"What reason does there need to be,
for people to clasp hands?"
"We desire peace.
A lasting one."
The envoy raised his head.
In his eyes was not curiosity, but grievance.
"Why him, and not us?
If we had asked, what would your lord have said?"
Lee In-jung set the cup down, as if stamping the answer into place.
"You should have given us the chance."
The envoy's lips stiffened.
It was true.
Months ago, even if Goryeo had reached out, Ming would not have looked back.
At last, the envoy said,
"If you reconsider even now, contact can be made."
"But to stand as hegemon of Jiangnan,
our lord intends to crush Chen Youliang."
"If so, we cannot avoid clashing."
Lee In-jung asked quietly,
"I'm curious about the honest reason."
The envoy swallowed.
"When each side moves for its own sake, how can one be truly honest?
Even this request is honesty, of a sort."
Lee In-jung tilted his head just slightly.
"Then the real reason?"
He smiled.
A shallow smile, and therefore colder.
"Let's be frank—
they're all villains."
"Even among villains,
one can choose the lesser evil."
At the word villain, confusion flickered across the envoy's face.
Lee In-jung continued, unfazed.
"Chen Youliang is a man who grows excited by blood.
Such men can be predicted."
Then he pressed his voice even lower.
"But Zhu Yuanzhang moves by calculation.
Those who calculate always move for themselves."
"We lived under such men for many years."
The envoy said nothing.
It wasn't that the words were hard—
those living beneath Zhu Yuanzhang already knew.
Hearing another say it aloud left him unable to argue.
The room chilled.
Lee In-jung took a quick sip of tea and added,
"We have taken Chen Youliang's hand,
but when that hand turns into a blade—even I don't know."
"So do not trust us.
Do not doubt us."
"We are simply seeking a way to survive."
The envoy stepped forward.
"We, too, seek cooperation with the Goryeo army.
That is why I have come."
Lee In-jung nodded.
"Very well.
Then when shall we speak again?"
"I will arrange an opportunity."
"Please do.
Thank you for today's visit."
When the envoy withdrew, Lee In-jung closed the door and remained alone.
Outside came the sounds of armor being polished, of soldiers' footsteps.
He murmured softly,
"Chen Youliang or Zhu Yuanzhang—
in the end, they all hunger for the realm."
"We must live in the space between them."
His gaze shifted beyond the window.
The evening sun spread red across the Yangtze—
red like blood,
and like gold.
"General Park Seong-jin.
You're fighting in the west, I suppose."
"It's quiet here for now,
but the storm is coming."
He tightened the sleeve of his armor and whispered,
"We do not live as pieces on the board.
We become the hand that overturns it."