At the signal, the lined ranks of archers drew their bowstrings, sending a myriad of arrows soaring into the sky. While the defenders atop the ramparts braced against the lethal rain, enemy cannons advanced under a wall of shields. Soon, cannonballs tore through the air, pulverizing the stone defenses. The bombardment ruthlessly targeted the haphazardly constructed outer walls and those flanking the gate tower. Amidst the chaos—where the ramparts a mere twenty paces away crumbled, scattering the severed limbs of allies over the rubble—the soldiers of Dongrahng calmly loaded their own cannons and returned fire. Each blast momentarily stifled Soyeol's relentless assault.
Yet, Dongrahng's desperate counterattacks could only stall the inevitable; they were entirely insufficient to preserve the rapidly disintegrating walls. As the outer defenses nearly collapsed and the defending lines scattered, the Soyeol forces began their steady advance, bolstered by the covering fire of their archers. The bombardment ceased as the infantry neared the walls, but the sheer volume of enemy arrows made it nearly impossible for the defenders to repel the ladders or thrust their spears at the climbing soldiers. The soldiers and citizens of Dongrahng fought with arrows protruding from their arms, hurling jagged rocks from behind their shields and pouring boiling oil upon the Soyeol invaders scaling the ramparts. The attackers, having barely reached the line of boiling cauldrons, neutralized the threat by setting the oil ablaze one by one. The thick, acrid smoke of burning oil billowed into the sky, drawing the concentrated brunt of the infantry's assault. The gates, battered relentlessly since noon, began to emit precarious, splintering groans, threatening to shatter before the sun even set.
Lahn, who had been commanding from beneath the gate tower, was gradually forced back toward the north gate, fighting every step of the way. A man shoved his way through the tightly packed shield wall and dropped to his knees before her. Lahn paused, her bowstring drawn half-taut, and looked down. It was a lieutenant tasked with defending the lower gates. He spoke between ragged, gasping breaths.
"My Lord, the gate will soon be breached. We will hold the line to the bitter end, so please, circle the ramparts and make for the south gate. The ridge to the south is still clear of enemy forces. You must survive to see the future."
"The city is crumbling!" Lahn shot back, her voice stern. "What future remains for a lord? I shall die here, upon the very ground where my parents shed their blood."
"My Lord!"
At his anguished cry, Lahn lowered herself to her knees, meeting his eyes.
"You go," she said, gripping his left arm firmly. "Go to Hyangdo and protect my brother. As the firstborn, it is enough for me alone to uphold our parents' will... You must protect my brother so that he may survive this war, rather than die fighting."
"How can I..."
The lieutenant's voice choked with emotion, but even as they shared this brief, bitter sorrow, the enemy's offensive closed in tighter around them. Lahn's plea was her final testament. Wiping away his tears, he prostrated himself before her in the cramped, chaotic space.
"I swear it shall be done."
Lahn gave a single, resolute nod, rose to her feet, and drew her bowstring once more. The lieutenant slipped back through the gap in the shields, vanishing into the desperate struggle atop the walls. Pushing aside the creeping dread that he, too, might not survive this living hell to fulfill his promise in Hyangdo, Lahn continued to draw and release her bowstring, over and over again.
Not long after the lieutenant slipped away, the Soyeol forces swarmed the position Lahn had been defending. The heavy gate shattered, and infantry poured into the city with deafening war cries. Even with the gates breached, the resistance atop the ramparts lingered like stubborn embers. Jahan and the commanders of Ju entered first to secure the area. As the battle finally lulled, Hwan rode into the city. The moment he passed through the gates, he demanded.
"Where is the Lord?"
"She is surrounded near the gate tower, Your Majesty," Jahan replied.
"Her condition?"
"She has sustained only minor injuries."
"Bring her to me," Hwan commanded.
Jahan bowed and moved swiftly. Soon, Lahn was dragged down before Hwan, tightly bound. She must have resisted fiercely, for the gag in her mouth was soaked with blood. As the soldiers forced her to her knees, Hwan dismounted and stood before her. Lahn glared up at him with bloodshot eyes. Hwan's face, with its elegant and refined lines, seemed entirely disconnected from the raw slaughter of the battlefield, and his gaze was utterly arid. Over his shoulder, Lahn could see her people in the distance—citizens who had climbed onto the rooftops to hurl stones, now falling one by one beneath a rain of arrows. With a subtle tilt of his chin, Hwan signaled the guards to remove her gag and bindings. The instant she was freed, Lahn spat venom at him.
"You claim to be the Guardian, marching under the flags of Cheon-Wi! How could you bring those demons here to trample us!"
Hwan replied without a hint of agitation.
"You were trampled simply because you chose to resist. Order them to cease this futile struggle even now, and both you and your remaining people will keep your lives."
Lahn let out a sorrowful, bitter laugh.
"Do you truly believe the people fight because a lord who hasn't even come of age ordered them to?" she scoffed. "No. I fight because my people commanded me to. There is not a single patch of earth in Dongrahng for Soyeol scum to set foot upon. Even as wraiths, we will claim the toll for this blood."
Hwan stared into Lahn's youthful face for a long moment. She met his piercing gaze with the exact same fierce defiance that Jongwon Soh had shown in the face of death. Hwan spoke softly.
"Wraiths..." he mused. "When mortals die, they merely scatter into light. Still, I suppose your light will burn rather brightly."
The moment Hwan parted his lips to issue a command, Lahn's hand lashed out, snatching a dagger from the belt of the soldier beside her. Just as Hwan drew his own sword to strike her down, Lahn dragged the blade across her own throat. She collapsed face-first onto the dirt, blood gushing from her open mouth and the fatal wound, her life fading in an instant. Standing amidst the gathered crowd, Jongwon Chuyo stared fixedly at the bloodied nape of Lahn's neck. Catching Hwan's eye, the young boy hurriedly lowered his gaze. Hwan smoothly sheathed his sword and issued a final command.
"Cremate the Lord's body."
Hwan remounted his horse and rode down the main thoroughfare into the heart of Dongrahng. Lacking any grand architecture within its walls, the administrative compound was easy to identify. By the time Hwan entered the gates, soldiers had already lined the walls, their flags raised high. Beyond the stone walls, the din of resistance and the screams of slaughter still raged. Hwan stepped into a detached residence—presumably the one Lahn had used—and waited for his army to secure complete control of the city. Though he had not drawn his own sword, the relentless barrage of explosions and the chaotic sights of the battlefield had steeped his body in exhaustion. Just as sleep began to creep in, Jeong'wu called out from outside and entered. Hwan rubbed his face with both hands and sat up straight as Jeong'wu bowed to deliver her report.
"Your Majesty. Lord Keumpyeong fainted while treating the wounded."
"Where is he now?" Hwan asked, a look of mild surprise on his face.
"He is recovering in his tent. You need not worry too much. However... he coughed up some blood before collapsing."
The fact that a Celestial Scion—capable of reviving dozens of dying men a day—had exhausted his energy to the point of coughing blood took Hwan by surprise. Yet, accepting Hui's limits was not difficult. Even in the twilight of Wi, the Scions had been mercilessly slaughtered by the blades of Latecomers, and in the midst of that bloody history, none had awakened their powers as Hui had now. Whether such individuals had existed but were swiftly killed before their deeds could be recorded, Hwan did not know. Even the founders of the twelve Celestial Scion houses who aided the Founder had eventually died one by one, leaving only their names in the Azure Scripture. It was not strange that Hui's energy had depleted. Hwan pondered Sahngjon's providence. Does this mean an immortal, undying body will eventually perish? Why does the Founder no longer breathe among us? How far can the flames from my own hands reach? Having never pushed himself to his limits, Hwan could not know.
Hwan told Jeong'wu. "I understand. Keep this quiet, and make sure Hui rests until dawn tomorrow. He will undoubtedly try to push himself back into the field. Confine him if you must."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
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Hui, who had marched to Dongrahng alongside Hwan, had been treating the wounded at the rear since the battle began. As the fighting reached its midpoint and the infantry advanced, casualties began to pour in, leaving Hui no time to even rub his eyes. Soldiers with mere flesh wounds refused to retreat, choosing to fight on; thus, only those too severely injured to walk were brought to Hui. Among the bodies left in the infantry's wake, those still breathing were carried to the rear, but many perished before reaching Hui. Although he had tended to the sick in Ju at Hwan's command, Hui was terrified and at a loss when faced with spilled intestines and gouged eyes. If he concentrated, he could mend severed limbs brought to him, and he could heal the raw, red flesh burned by boiling oil. But he could not restore missing eyeballs or a blasted abdomen. Hui had coughed blood while trying to save a soldier whose stomach had been entirely obliterated by Dongrahng's cannon fire. Pouring his energy into it, he could see the flesh slowly knitting back together, so he refused to give up. Yet, while pushing through the coughing fits to continue his treatment, Hui eventually fainted, collapsing over the exposed, bloody intestines.
Carried to a small detached building annexed to the administrative compound, Hui awoke shortly after sunset. A lavish feast was brought to him, but he could hardly swallow a spoonful amidst the endless screams of the citizens bleeding through the paper doors. He attempted to step outside several times, only to be restrained by the guards. Suffocated by the confinement, he dragged a chair to the stone wall, peered outside the compound, and turned pale with horror.
The Soyeol forces had turned the city into their hunting ground. Men, women, children, and the elderly were slashed and shot indiscriminately. In the streets swarming with madmen, soldiers did not hesitate to lay women down and ravage them. The occupying army's deranged lust made no distinction between the living and the dead. There was nowhere to hide in the conquered city. When a small child, fleeing from a blade, crawled deep into a furnace, the pursuing soldiers simply set it ablaze. Locking eyes with a commander casually walking by with human intestines draped over his helmet horns like grim ornaments, Hui recoiled in sheer terror and collapsed at the foot of the wall. Though he had lived on the sea for years, traveling among the islands of Soyeol and witnessing their savagery firsthand, seeing the city so ruthlessly violated finally gave him the answer to why the citizens of Dongrahng had fought so desperately.
With hollow eyes, Hui rose to his feet and approached the gate. A guard immediately blocked his path.
"Apologies, my lord, but His Majesty has strictly forbidden you from going to the wounded."
Hui glared at him. "You said the same thing earlier. I am not going to the wounded. I am going to His Majesty. Lead the way."
The guard, looking perplexed, offered an awkward bow and led the way. Hwan was sitting on the edge of his bed, stripping off his cumbersome outer garments, when he received Hui.
"I believe I ordered you to rest unconditionally for the night."
Even as he spoke, Hwan's hands were busy untying the knots of his garment. Hui reported immediately, without preamble.
"Your Majesty, the army is trampling the city."
Screams were seeping into the very room where they stood, and Hui was terrified as he spoke. And just as he had feared, Hwan dismissed his report as trivial.
"Let them do as they please. In three days, we march from Dongrahng to join the forces at Nahmgyo. Then, we advance immediately on Hyangdo. Hyangdo is no easy target. They need some entertainment today."
Hui protested. "But... are the citizens of Dongrahng not people of Wi?"
Hwan, who had been looking elsewhere the entire time, finally turned his body to face Hui. Beneath his reprimanding gaze, Hui immediately lowered his eyes. Hwan spoke.
"Those who fight under the banner of Cheon-Wi are the subjects and soldiers of Cheon-Wi. You tended to the wounded until you coughed blood, yet have you already forgotten our soldiers who died in a mere half a day, their heads smashed by the rocks of those worthless wretches, their flesh melted by boiling oil? Have you considered the rage of the soldiers who lost their comrades in such a way?"
Hui simply bowed deeply. "I apologize."
Hwan continued his reprimand. "Soyeol washes its grief not with tears, but with the blood of enemies. They crossed the sea, willing to kill and die, trusting solely in me. Redraw the lines between us and them, and try to understand our hearts."