Chương 1: The Collapse of the Formation

The formation collapsed. On the battlefield, a soldier's life was lighter than an arrow. And they were worth even less than that. Still, there was one thing that set Yeong-woo apart from the others. He could read. The shield wall split apart. The line of spears shattered. Through the gap surged armored cavalry. And Yeong-woo was standing exactly where they were coming. Fear struck him all at once. His knees weakened. His hands refused to move. Strike with a sword — it bounced off the armor.

Thrust with a spear — it slid uselessly aside. Block them — they trampled straight over you. Run — they speared you in the back. Terrified soldiers lowered their spear points. Through that opening an enemy commander forced his horse forward. Behind him the armored cavalry pressed in. If that charge swallowed them, nothing would remain. Not even bones. One group of cavalry suddenly shifted direction. Their charge line turned. And Yeong-woo stood directly in its path.

The shield bearers and long-spearmen who had stood before him collapsed in an instant. Only a handful of weak bowmen remained. Yeong-woo was one of them. He drew his bow and fired. The arrow struck a cavalry shield and bounced away. Another arrow followed. The same result. The thought came suddenly. He was going to die. A soldier thought that many times in war. But this time it felt real. Yeong-woo threw aside his bow and grabbed his polearm. The expensive bow fell to the ground.

Through the corner of his eye he saw it crushed beneath the boots of his own comrades. If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it. The weapon he carried was a hooked polearm. Below the main spear blade curved a second hook. A strip of red cloth fluttered beneath it like a small battle pennant. He had taken it from a senior soldier who died the previous month. The man had picked it up from an enemy corpse.

He too had been ordered to remain an archer. He died when a charging cavalry spear pierced his chest. Yeong-woo extended the weapon to its full length. Then he swung the hook toward the charging commander. Striking did nothing. Thrusting did nothing. So he hooked the armor. The blade caught. Yeong-woo pulled. The horse stumbled. The commander fell.

"He's down!"

"Yeong-woo did it!" The fallen commander struggled to rise. Yeong-woo shoved him forward. The Cheol-ryong brothers rushed in beside him. Their long spears drove forward together.

"Kill him!"

"Kill him!" They did not stab to kill. They simply forced him off balance. Unfortunately for the fallen commander, the cavalry behind him were still charging. Even the greatest warrior could not survive that. Anyone standing in the path of armored cavalry would be crushed. CRACK. The enemy commander, Hong Yi-do, was trampled beneath his own riders. His body twisted violently. For a moment it bounced from the ground. Then it collapsed like a broken scarecrow. No one survived that.

"Kill that bastard!" Yeong-woo shouted. Cheol-ryong's spear plunged down. The riders behind pulled their reins too late. Hong Yi-do could not rise. The moment the cavalry hesitated, dozens of spears struck forward. When charging, cavalry crushed everything through sheer force. But the moment they stopped, they died.

"Reform the line!"

"Shoulder to shoulder!"

"Shields forward!" War drums thundered across the battlefield. The commander's shout cracked through the air like lightning. The riders who had broken the formation were dragged down and killed. Some were trampled. Some were beaten to death. When the line finally stabilized, a lieutenant dragged away the officer responsible for the collapse. The man screamed as he was struck again and again with a command baton.

"AAAGH!"

"Stand properly!" Then the gong sounded. Retreat. The soldiers stepped back slowly, shoulders locked together, maintaining formation. Archers loosed arrows to cover the withdrawal. The volleys were scattered. There was no clear target. They were fired only to prevent the enemy from charging again. Dozens—perhaps hundreds—of soldiers never returned. Too many had died in the clash. Familiar faces lay twisted in the dirt. Some stared silently at the sky.

"Retreat! Retreat!" Even while withdrawing, men continued to fall. Some were trampled by cavalry. Others were struck down by arrows. That day, for the first time, Yeong-woo dragged an enemy commander from his horse. And for the first time, he killed a man with his own hands. Before the war ended, he would kill hundreds more. It was different from shooting a man with a bow. When a spear pierced flesh, the struggle traveled up the shaft and into the hands. Even now that sensation remained in his grip.

A cold feeling settled in his chest. But his hands did not tremble. Yeong-woo was still alive.