Chapter 3 – The Enemy Charge Begins
Boom.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
The drums rolled like thunder.
Enemies scattered across the field began gathering around the South Gate.
They closed in from every direction.
Arrows whistled through the air.
The rain of arrows grew heavier with every moment.
One group rushed forward, fired, and withdrew.
Another group rushed in to shoot.
Then another.
They repeated the cycle again and again.
Only about a hundred soldiers remained before the wall.
Five hundred had marched out.
Almost all of them were dead.
This was no longer a matter of skill.
Whoever had given that order deserved to die.
"What do we do now? Looks like they're about to charge."
Cheol-ryong spoke.
There was something in his voice.
Dependence.
"What else can we do?" Yeong-woo replied.
"We fight until we die."
Cheol-ryong pointed forward.
"Ugly bastards, aren't they?"
"Terrifying."
Pipipipipip—
Thud thud thud.
Several waves of arrows fell.
Between the volleys, the enemy cavalry moved.
A sound like thunder rolled across the field.
The ground trembled.
The war drums pounded against their chests.
Hearts raced as if they might burst.
"Charge! Charge!"
The command flag rose.
Enemy cavalry began to move.
A hundred paces.
Too far to see their expressions.
But not far enough.
Once they charged, they would arrive in moments.
"Damn. We're all going to die."
Cheol-ryong muttered.
"Hold the line!"
He struck Yeong-woo lightly on the shoulder.
Yeong-woo shouted as well.
"Hold the line!"
Armies ran on blind obedience.
Men who had been shaking in fear began shouting together.
"Hold the line!"
"Hold the line!"
"Hold the line!"
The enemy came.
Just before contact, arrows poured down again.
Four or five men in the front rank collapsed.
An arrow wound did not kill immediately.
They screamed.
They twisted on the ground.
They begged for help.
The most terrifying sight on a battlefield was not the enemy.
It was dying comrades.
Yeong-woo was wounded too.
But he could do nothing.
And the thought crept into his mind—
Soon that would be him.
Yeong-woo shouted.
"Long spears forward! Long spears forward!"
Spears, glaives, and polearms thrust out between the shields.
It would have been better if swordsmen had stood behind them.
But there were none.
Boom. Boom. Boom.
Yeong-woo glanced up toward the gate tower.
Bastards.
At least give us covering fire.
The people he hated most in the world were those who stood still.
Those who did nothing.
"Forward five steps!"
It was the command they practiced every day in training.
But stepping forward in the face of death was far harder than any drill.
The moment a foot moved, it felt like stepping off a cliff.
Still—
When infantry advanced, cavalry hesitated.
If the distance closed too quickly, the riders could lose control.
Horses were especially sensitive to it.
"Five steps forward!"
Yeong-woo shouted again.
His comrades moved.
Because they believed that was how they would survive.
At that moment, covering fire began from the walls.
Enemy arrows shifted upward toward the battlements.
They were protecting their charging cavalry.
No one protected them.
Still, any place with fewer arrows felt like heaven.
There was no time to think.
The enemy was charging.
And they stood in the way.
Yeong-woo prayed silently.
Just this once.
Let me live.
It was a prayer no one would answer.
Still, it was all he could do.
Just this once—
"Five steps forward!"
The thin line of infantry moved.
Yeong-woo thrust forward the polearm he had taken from a dead warrior.
The distance closed in an instant.
Then they collided.
Jurchen armored cavalry
against Goryeo infantry.
Hundreds against barely a hundred.
CRASH.
"Spears up!"
"Spears up!"
"Spears up!"
The center of the line broke.
It collapsed like a dam bursting in heavy rain.
Yeong-woo was swept away with the flow and thrown to the ground.
No infantry could withstand the full force of armored cavalry.
What a shame.
This life had been going fairly well.
Then he had been dragged into the army.
And cut down for it.
BOOM.
Something massive slammed into his body.
He had blocked it—
but it meant nothing.
That bastard was a skilled fighter.
"What do we do?"
Cheol-un shouted.
"Fall back to the wall. Five steps back."
Yeong-woo answered without thinking.
But Cheol-un immediately shouted.
"Five steps back!"
The command spread down the line.
"Five steps back!"
"Five steps back!"
"Five steps back!"
Yeong-woo's head spun.
Since the blow, he could barely tell direction.
"Snap out of it, you bastard!"
It was Cheol-ryong.
"Fall back! Five steps!"
Yeong-woo shouted again.
"Back to the wall! Fall back!"
The thin line of about a hundred men withdrew.
But there was still order.
Even though the center had been broken, it had somehow filled again.
Their backs nearly touched the wall.
"What now?" Cheol-ryong shouted.
"Hold! Spear and shield—pairs!"
"When they come, stab! Just stab!"
Leaning against Cheol-ryong's shoulder, Yeong-woo shouted.
Strangely, the orders worked.
As if Yeong-woo himself were the commander.
The enemy cavalry had charged through a storm of arrows.
Their speed had already slowed.
Faced with the stubborn resistance of the infantry, they hesitated.
"Hold!"
"Hold!"
"Just hold!"
The hundred infantry thrust their spears forward.
Then withdrew again.