328
Liu Bowen's Envoy Arrives at Jiju
On the southern plain outside Jiju Fortress, a white flag was raised where a burned-out camp once stood.
Even after the flames had died, the air was still thick with the smell of blood.
Whenever the wind blew, the stench of ash and soil caught in the throat.
Beneath the white flag, two figures sat astride their horses.
They were envoys of truce, sent by Liu Bowen.
From the watchtower atop the gate, Park Seong-jin looked down at them.
His gaze did not move, and that silence itself was sharper than a blade.
"A white flag…"
The deputy beside him spoke in a low voice.
"Are they surrendering?"
Park Seong-jin shook his head.
"No chance."
Still staring at the flag, he said,
"That's a signal to catch their breath.
There's an intention behind it."
Then he gave the order.
"Let them in.
Let's hear what they have to say."
The envoys were led into the main hall inside the fortress—the largest space, now serving as headquarters.
Military documents and gear lay scattered about, and the metallic stench of blood that had yet to dry lingered in the air.
At the center, Park Seong-jin had a single clean area prepared.
It was deliberate.
A sign that order still lived amid the chaos.
The lead envoy bowed his head.
"I address the general of Jiju Fortress.
Lord Liu of the Great Ming requests a truce."
"The losses on both sides have been severe.
He proposes that we suspend hostilities for a time and reflect upon the bonds between our states."
Park Seong-jin closed his eyes briefly, then opened them and spoke slowly.
"Liu Bowen.
So the famed master reaches out to a mere warrior like me… Liu Bowen."
He rolled the name on his tongue.
His voice was low, yet everyone in the hall could hear it.
"Very well.
If we can pause the fighting, it benefits both sides.
I accept your proposal."
"From today, for three days, there will be no combat at Jiju Fortress.
Naturally, the same must hold for you."
The envoy's eyes flickered.
Only now did he seem to grasp the weight of a strong man choosing to stop.
Before the envoys withdrew, Park Seong-jin gave another order to his guards.
"Open the prisons.
Release all prisoners."
"Let them return alive.
That is how a truce begins."
The deputy immediately objected.
"General, they are enemies."
Park Seong-jin replied without a smile.
"Exactly why we release them.
The dead say nothing.
The living carry stories."
"They will carry word of our fearsome strength."
The prison gates of Jiju Fortress were opened.
From the two battles, nearly a thousand prisoners had been taken.
Starved and wounded men stumbled out all at once, staring up at the sky.
Some could not believe the ground beneath their feet.
Others touched their own legs and wept.
Park Seong-jin was waiting for the words they would spread.
Terrifying news travels faster than steel.
Soon after, dozens of wooden chests were brought forward.
All were sealed, bound with red cords.
The envoy's face stiffened.
Park Seong-jin said,
"There is nothing to fear."
"Inside are the belongings and tokens of your commanders."
He lightly tapped one chest with his fingertip.
"Seodal's helmet.
The messengers' military tallies.
The seals of their deputies."
"We gathered what remained on the battlefield.
Deliver them to your lord."
"Tell him this:
We seek a truce, and for now, we stop here.
We, too, desire peace."
The envoy hesitated, then asked,
"Does the general truly desire peace?"
Park Seong-jin's expression did not change.
"A war ends when the one who can win chooses to stop.
Now is that moment."
It would become his guiding principle thereafter.
Peace, to him, was something achieved through strength.
A state so powerful that no one dared challenge it—
that was what he called peace.
After the envoys departed, only the sound of wind remained in Jiju Fortress.
Soldiers cleaned their weapons and gathered their arrows.
Bodies were buried beyond the walls, and sentries stared in silence across the river.
Under the banner of truce, the envoys would carry back many things.
Each report, each detail, was being weighed.
The fortress, once the clamor ceased, felt even sharper.
Park Seong-jin climbed the watchtower and looked out over the plain.
At the edge of the horizon, the envoys' procession grew smaller and smaller.
He spoke quietly.
"They're rattled."
The deputy asked,
"General, do you think the truce will hold?"
Park Seong-jin was silent for a moment before answering.
"A flag sent by Liu Bowen is worth trusting."
"But what Zhu Yuanzhang is thinking behind it—
that, I don't know.
They say he's a devious one."
His gaze shifted far off toward Yangzhou.
Somewhere in that direction, another fire was rising.
War, once believed extinguished, always ignites elsewhere.
There are always embers left behind.
That night, for the first time in a while, the sounds of living returned to Jiju Fortress.
Soldiers sat around braziers, eating in silence.
Above the gate, the white flag swayed in the moonlight.
"A temporary peace."
His eyes were already fixed on the next battlefield.