Around the hour of si, the sunlight began to tilt westward.
Botongwon's courtyard sank into gold. Light shimmered in the dust, and shattered rays spread across armor like rolling waves.
The drums sounded.
Dong— dong— dong—.
Three beats.
After that, silence fell—deep and heavy, like the stillness beneath the sea.
The ranks filled the yard. Soldiers stood aligned, horses snorted and stamped the ground. The smells of iron and leather, sweat and blood, horseflesh and dust pressed down on the air itself.
Then the gates opened.
The Great General appeared, clad in golden armor.
At his waist hung a buweol—the axe of command. Its moon-curved blade caught the sunlight and flashed. Seated on horseback, he advanced slowly. Each step of the hooves stirred a quiet wind across the yard.
When the Great General raised a hand toward his mouth, an adjutant's voice rang out.
"Begin the review!"
The drums thundered again.
Dong— dong— dong—.
The formation came alive in sequence. Soldiers raised spears and lifted shields. The foot archers bearing the heavy crossbows slung their arrows over their shoulders and bowed at the waist.
"Sungui Unit, First Detachment—no irregularities!""No irregularities!""Second Detachment—forty-six men under Hwang Hyeon-pil, report complete!""No irregularities!""No irregularities!"
The responses rolled across the courtyard like waves. With each echo, the clouds above seemed to take on a deeper red.
The Great General rode through each formation. His gaze passed from one soldier's eyes to the next. There was no fear in it, no fervor—only the gaze of stone performing a task long ordained. Within that stillness, countless names flickered and vanished.
As the shadow of the Great General's horse fell over him, Seongjin felt his chest thud once, hard. When the general passed, light stretched across the hoofprints left behind—a golden line that looked as though it led straight to the battlefield.
"Third Detachment—no irregularities!""Fourth Detachment—no irregularities!"
Each call was answered by the drums.
Dong, dong, dong—.
It was as if sky and earth were keeping the same beat.
At last, the Great General reined in his horse. As the horse lifted its head, the buweol flared blindingly in the sun. The general raised his chin and spoke, low and clear.
"We go to Liaodong."
The air in the courtyard hardened.
"We strike Liaoyang Fortress."
The soldiers straightened as one. Spear points caught the sunlight and flashed together, filling the yard with light. The stillness that followed was almost unreal.
Liaoyang.
The moment the name fell, the wind stopped. Time itself seemed to pause. Botongwon's courtyard was no longer a camp—it had become a sanctuary of war. The horses stilled, and the monks before the hall pressed their palms together in silent prayer.
Somewhere, a bell rang once.
Dong—.
The sound carried to the far edge of the fields.
The Great General raised the buweol high.
"March."
After a brief pause, he shouted again,
"March immediately!"
"Loyalty!""Loyalty!""Loyalty!""Loyalty!""Loyalty!"
The response burst forth like thunder. Horses lifted their heads; armor clashed, iron ringing like a storm. The Great General nodded slowly. Fatigue lay on his face—and beneath it, a resolve deeper still.
When he lowered his hand, the drums sounded once more.
Dong— dong— dong—.
That day, around the hour of si, a march for the living leaving behind their lives echoed through Botongwon's courtyard. Golden armor burned in the western light, its glow passing over the soldiers' faces.
No one spoke.
But everyone knew.
This reviewwas not meant for those who would return.