Chapter 83 – Operation Begins 2
As Yi Yeongu surged forward, Wanyan Zongmang pressed close behind, unwilling to fall even a step behind him.
Two lines cut across the river.
They endured the biting cold with sheer stubbornness.
As Yeongu took the lead, Zongmang shouted,
"Be careful! The ice might break!"
"If it breaks, it breaks. That's fate."
At the weight of that word—fate—Zongmang fell silent for a moment.
Still, shouldn't one be cautious?
No—when nothing changes either way, one leaves it to fate.
Yet was that something to say in the middle of an operation?
Even accounting for their different backgrounds, Yeongu's words carried a peculiar distance.
As if he stood half a step removed from reality.
At times, he spoke in ways that felt oddly out of place.
"What's today's plan?"
"What plan do you need against fools like these? We strike through. Turn the horses, cut through again. Charge after charge—we take the lead."
The man at the front advanced without hesitation, and the soldiers behind him found strength in that certainty.
They crossed the frozen Apjah River safely.
Snow had piled thick, and this stretch had yet to be broken by the enemy.
The enemy camp came into view.
Liao soldiers could be seen breaking the ice.
If a force is thin at the surface but deep within, it does not collapse easily.
Pushing back the front line does not end the fight.
If reinforcements continue to flow from behind, the battle goes on.
The depth must be cut.
Not breaking the front, but piercing inward—severing the flow.
Splitting one army into two, cutting command and communication.
Then what remains is no longer an army, but scattered groups of men.
Yeongu lowered his reins.
"We break the line."
Zongmang narrowed his eyes.
"We split the center."
"…The depth?"
"Exactly."
The moment the words ended, Yeongu leapt forward first.
The spearpoint struck the thinnest part and drove straight inward.
A newly cultivated force shattered the very heart of the advancing line.
KWA-BOOM.
Something exploded.
The men blocking the way were flung apart in all directions.
The banner unfurled in the wind, snapping like a blade as it rose.
It cut across throats.
Armor caught on spear tips flew ten paces into the air.
The shields guarding the center shattered into pieces.
What happened could be seen—
yet impossible to explain.
He swung wildly—
yet even without contact, things collapsed, broke, shattered, died.
He did not stop.
He did not look to the sides.
He simply drove forward with the force he already carried.
Behind him, the Cheolbudo gathered into a sharp formation like the tip of a spear.
They strained to maintain their spacing exactly as trained.
As they advanced, they swung their weapons.
Every enemy they met was thrown aside.
Power concentrated into a single point.
The front line tore open.
And that tear widened.
Before the rear ranks could even grasp the situation, the front and back were severed.
Orders no longer reached.
The drums no longer carried.
An army is only an army when it remains connected.
Once cut, it is nothing more than a crowd.
The Liao army split apart.
Yeongu shouted,
"Beat the drums! Drums!"
At his command, the drummer struck.
Doo-dung doo-dung dundundung
Doo-dung doo-dung dundundung
Doo-dung doo-dung dundundung
"Advance!"
Yeongu surged forward like a vanguard commander.
Zongmang hurried after him.
Even for a shock charge, this was too fast.
Zongmang's thoughts tangled.
If this collapses, it will be disastrous.
Why is an attached officer taking the role of the vanguard commander?
At this rate, all the credit might go to him.
Such thoughts, right before clashing with the enemy, were dangerous.
He tried to push them away, but it was not easy.
Today, the center was not himself—
it was Yeongu.
The Liao soldiers narrowed their eyes.
They seemed to believe this was the section where the ice had been broken.
They waited.
Waited for Yeongu to fall through.
Held their breath and watched.
At that moment—
Yeongu leapt across.
Zongmang followed in the same motion.
Silver armor covered their entire bodies.
There was no gap.
It seemed no weapon could wound them.
"The enemy!"
Someone shouted belatedly. Others echoed it.
It was meant as a call to arms—
but it was the moment despair spread.
Yeongu swung the banner.
It unfurled, a red line slicing through the air.
Five Liao soldiers in front were swept sideways all at once.
As if swept clean by a broom.
Zongmang followed, swinging his heavy blade.
Three more fell.
A gap opened.
The poles used to break the ice rolled uselessly across the ground.
Through that opening, the Goryeo and Jurchen forces drove in.
The distance between lines split open instantly.
Clang—clang—chachang—clang clang
Dozens of silver spearheads fell upon the Liao soldiers.
The startled enemy scattered left and right like a river parting.
Heavily armored soldiers collapsed, snow spraying in all directions.
Hundreds of hooves thundered through, kicking snow into the air like dust.
Zongmang shouted,
"Do not stop! Cut through their formation! Charge!"
It sounded as if he were shouting at Yeongu.
The soldiers behind Yeongu pressed in close.
Arrows rained down upon the Jurchen cavalry slicing through the enemy.
Yeongu raised his arm to shield his face.
Arrows deflected off the small shield on his wrist and the armor of the Cheolbudo.
With armored horses, they pushed forward without loss.
Behind the 1,200 Cheolbudo, the main force poured arrows into the enemy ranks.
From the front—charge.
From the sides—arrows.
The Liao formation—divided into front, center, and rear—split apart exactly as planned.
Even before the darkness fully lifted,
their battle line had already been torn open.