Sniping – The Plan
It was clear he was recalling the attack on Gateullip in Haran.
The armored infantry had blocked the front.
Countless obstacles had sealed off the retreat.
They had encircled Gateullip's main force and riddled it with arrows from all directions.
The only flaw had been that Gateullip escaped beforehand, yet the method itself had been highly efficient.
In ordinary warfare, such a situation almost never occurs.
An enemy commander does not willingly step into the center of an arrow's range, especially not inside a perfect circle of envelopment.
The disparity in numbers was also vast.
With forces dozens of times smaller, one cannot drag the enemy into the tiger's jaws and slaughter them at will.
At times like this, Soun seemed almost childlike.
Lacking a wide range of experience, he was trying to reuse a recent success.
He did not yet understand that a single victory of that kind was exceedingly rare.
"The problem is getting him into the center."
"Right?"
"Is there a way to lure him in?"
"A disguise…"
"As what?"
"As the Supreme General.
If that bastard is hungry for merit, he'll charge in like a madman.
Since infantry makes up the bulk of his force, he might rush ahead with only mounted troops.
Then we pull him into the center and—ratatatat…"
"You mean bait him?
Hmm… would that even work?"
It sounded plausible.
But reality does not bend itself to words.
On the battlefield especially, events often move in the opposite direction of one's wishes.
Gagyeongpil's expression darkened.
How had he ended up with the most difficult task?
There was almost no chance of victory in a frontal engagement.
Only if every tactic the General had written down succeeded could they barely repel the enemy.
The assigned objective had to be eliminated.
And that task bordered on the impossible.
"Or he might not come out at all."
"We should've brought a heavy crossbow.
Fire a bolt from afar and smash his chest in."
"How would we even carry something that heavy?"
"True… it's heavy."
"Why are you so certain?"
"Because I don't have any better idea.
There's no point discussing what can't be done."
"Then you think your idea is possible?"
"Yes.
I'll try."
The warhorses kept moving.
Yi Hee had already designated the strike point, the direction of attack, and the route of retreat.
Even if one prepares everything possible within a plan, real battle unfolds differently.
Sighing feeds no one.
As if his mind were already made up, Soun brushed aside his worries and spurred his horse forward.
"I'll be back."
"Where are you going?"
"I'll catch that scout from earlier and squeeze him for information.
We need something."
"Don't bring him back."
"We can't just kill him.
He's an enemy, sure—but he was only scouting…"
His martial ability was high, but as a soldier he was still lacking.
He had no cruelty.
An enemy scout should be killed without hesitation.
A single piece of information he carries could lead to the annihilation of their entire force.
Armies, strategies, weapons, and commanders all determine a battle's outcome, but if forced to choose one thing above all, it would be intelligence.
Watching the boy who said he could not kill, Gagyeongpil shook his head.
"If you let him go, we could all be wiped out."
"…That could happen.
I'll handle it."
The scout, dressed in plain clothes, was crossing a ridge scattered with rocks and brush.
At the sound of hooves, he turned.
A rider on a white horse was following him.
Soun had already fixed the scout's position in his mind.
He did not hurry.
That was the advantage of cavalry.
No matter how fast the man ran, he could not escape.
And Soun knew exactly where he was going.
'Damn.'
Hide or flee?
For a moment, he hesitated.
The terrain could be used.
The thick brush and scattered rocks offered cover.
He could flatten himself and disappear.
If the chance arose, he could even attempt an ambush.
It would be risky—but possible.
And the rider was alone.
Mounted men have blind spots.
He changed direction and ran.
After several leaps, he dove into a hollow where brush and stone intertwined.
He held his breath, waiting.
Hoofbeats drew closer.
His heart hammered in his chest.
The surroundings were unnaturally silent.
Not even a bird cried out.
The clop of hooves stopped directly in front of him.
But nothing else moved.
The sound ceased.
No further motion followed.
He lifted his head.
A young rider, helmet pulled low, sat above him.
He had not even drawn a weapon.
He simply looked down.
Calm.
Their eyes met.
Time froze.
In such unexpected moments, the body refuses to move.
The scout burst out, slashing wildly.
Soun did not counterattack.
He merely guided his horse backward.
Effortlessly.
With the slightest pull of the reins, he let every strike pass.
Moments later, he stood beyond the blade's reach.
"You want to die?
Shall I kill you?"
The scout shouted.
Soun only looked down at him.
He did not respond.
The man suddenly turned and fled.
He bounded over rocks and plunged through brush.
He chose paths a horse could scarcely follow.
Branches tore at his face and skin.
His breath rose to his throat.
He glanced back again and again, glaring fiercely.
Soun maintained the distance and followed at an unhurried pace.
There was no visible scheme.
He simply trailed behind, as though herding him.