Chương 350: Chapter 326. Marching on Liaoyang

The Balhae camp was different from the Jin camp. The Jin tents carried the rough vigor of a new state rising into being, while the Goryeo camp possessed the order of an army long accustomed to discipline. The Balhae camp carried the scent of something older still. It was the scent of people who had lived for generations with the name of a fallen kingdom in their hearts, enduring beneath other men's banners and inside other men's cities. The tents were all different.

Some were old canvas shelters taken from Liao camps. Others had been patched together from horsehide and coarse cloth. Their poles were of uneven height, and no two pieces of fabric seemed the same color. A yellowed tent stood beside one of blackened hide, while next to that crouched a smaller shelter patched with torn strips of silk. Layers of old stitching remained on cloth that had endured years of wind and rain. The soldiers' equipment was just as uneven. Some wore Liao-style lamellar armor.

Others had fastened a few iron plates over leather armor. Their helmets differed as well. Some wore round iron helmets, while others had leather caps reinforced with metal bands. On some shields, traces remained where old emblems had been scraped away. Spear shafts bore the marks of having been replaced two or three times. Their equipment was poor. Yet they did not look like an army that had simply picked up cast-off things and put them on.

Every worn piece of gear carried the stubborn persistence of someone who had repaired and used it for years. That, in part, came from the Liao custom that required soldiers to provide much of their own equipment. Spears and swords stood neatly in front of the tents. The spearheads were not all the same size, and the decorations on the scabbards differed from man to man. Still, every blade had been cleaned. Some spearpoints showed fresh white marks from sharpening. Some hwando had newly wrapped grips.

It was a poor army. An army that used everything until the very end, tied together what broke, sharpened what wore down, and put it back into battle. Low stakes and ropes surrounded the outside of the camp. The barrier had been raised in haste and was not high, but the passages had been narrowed so that men and horses could not come and go as they pleased. There were only two entrances. At one stood two sentries holding spears. At the other, a soldier with a bow over his shoulder watched the darkness.

Their clothing was shabby, but their posture was firm. Their spearpoints remained low. Their feet were planted deep in the earth. Their eyes held both the exhaustion of men who had fought through the night and the resolve of soldiers who would still hold their assigned places. Patrols also moved around the perimeter. Soldiers walked in pairs behind the tents, past the tethered horses and the parked wagons. One carried a spear and watched ahead. The other bore a short bow and kept watch behind.

Their steps were quiet. Low sounds came whenever their boots passed through horse dung, damp earth, or the ash of extinguished fires. Each time they completed a circuit, they checked the knots on the horses, the piles of equipment, and even the ropes holding the prisoners. Support the creativity of authors by visiting the original site for this novel and more. The horses were exhausted as well. Some stood with lowered heads, breathing clouds of steam. Others tried to bite at the cloth wrapped around injured legs.

Saddles and tack stripped off in haste hung across their backs, dried sweat and mud caked into the leather straps. Beneath a dim lamp, a soldier sat repairing broken harness. Each time the needle pierced the leather, his fingers pressed against hardened calluses. From one side came the sound of armor being repaired. A small hammer tapped against iron plates. Hands worked quickly, threading leather cords. Some men filled quivers. Others sorted spear shafts. Some divided dried cakes and horse fodder.

Others replaced bandages on the wounded. All of them were poor. All of them knew their part. Youngwoo stopped his horse for a moment before the camp. The kingdom of Balhae had vanished long ago. Yet its descendants still retained a sense that they were people of Balhae, and still carried that identity within themselves. They wore Liao uniforms and had lived under orders in Liao camps, yet they still thought of themselves as Balhae people of Liaodong. Their tents were old. Their equipment mismatched.

Their horses tired. The shadow of long years lay over their faces. Yet the spearpoints guarding the camp entrance remained straight, and the footsteps of the patrols moving through the darkness did not falter. They were an army of people who had lost the city to which they could return. Their discipline and their will to fight, however, remained alive. Kim Yungyeong was standing there. He wore a thick coat, and his face was stiff with cold, as though he had been waiting all night.

He stood quietly beside the entrance as if he had known in advance which road Youngwoo would take. Youngwoo narrowed his eyes from the saddle.

"Why are you here?" Kim Yungyeong answered calmly.

"Your tent was empty, and I thought you would come this way, so I waited."

"Why?" The protest he had been holding back finally surfaced.

"If you drag someone all the way out here and make him work with you, are you simply going to disappear and leave him behind?" Youngwoo closed his mouth for a moment. Kim Yungyeong clearly resented that Youngwoo had made him work alongside him and then simply walked away. Youngwoo spoke quietly.

"I am sorry." Kim Yungyeong immediately replied,"You are going to blame the circumstances again, are you not?" Youngwoo grinned. It was a strange smile, mixed with apology, irritation, exhaustion, and stubbornness.

"Then you strategists should have prepared the road in advance. Would this have happened if the learned men had done their jobs properly? Leave everything to ignorant military men and of course things end up like this." Kim Yungyeong's eyebrow twitched.

"To be honest, I believed we would lose this battle. The enemy numbered seven hundred thousand."

"Heh. So that was it." Kim Yungyeong studied Youngwoo's expression.

"In any case, what you accomplished was extraordinary. I assume you still have some other calculation in mind."

"I am not telling you anything." Yet there was no sign that Youngwoo intended to retreat. When one had to choose—especially when one had to choose which side to stand with—it was only human to want at least one reliable basis for that choice. Youngwoo dismounted. The instant his feet touched the ground, he stepped closer to Kim Yungyeong and lowered his voice.

"Wouldn't it be reasonable to watch and see who truly owns this land before deciding?" Kim Yungyeong's face hardened. He had always taken it for granted that Liaodong belonged to the Jurchens and Samhan to Goryeo. That was the world they lived in, or at least the world they had been taught to believe in. But was it truly so? He immediately replied in a low voice.

"Do you believe the descendants of Balhae are the rightful masters of this land?

"Many of them were deeply incorporated into Liao rule.

"In mixed military formations, men of Balhae descent often served in roles equivalent to Xiangwen commanders.

"When Liao governed Liaodong, Balhae people were often placed at the front of that administration.

"It is difficult to say that all of them should therefore become masters of a new age.

"Nor did they act only from ethnic consciousness.

"Tax burdens, the pressures of governing Liaodong, discrimination, and the suffering of military service all accumulated together." Youngwoo twisted his lips as he listened. Was that so? Even I did not know that. He could not say that everything Kim Yungyeong said was wrong. That only made it more unpleasant to hear. No matter how decent a man might be, once he stood directly against one's wishes, he became difficult to look at.

"Let us recover it first and see what happens afterward. Perhaps they will fight among themselves over who gets to be emperor or Great Khan. Perhaps they will proclaim some country with some grand name." Kim Yungyeong asked the same question again.

"What do we do?" Youngwoo shrugged.

"I suppose we continue doing what we were already doing."

"That is irresponsible." Youngwoo's gaze cooled slightly.

"I did those things because I held an office.

"I have laid that office down.

"If the will of the state differs from mine, then stepping aside is also a path.

"It might have been different if the Goryeo army had at least said it would help.

"Instead, they just blinked at the matter like fools watching someone else's problem." Kim Yungyeong spoke quietly.

"You should not insult the Supreme Commander like that." Youngwoo immediately replied,"When did I insult the Supreme Commander?" Kim Yungyeong stared at him for a moment. Then, as though giving up, he lowered his head.

"I made a proposal."

"What proposal?"

"A road by which Goryeo, Jin, and Balhae might go forward together.

"I proposed placing all three within a single order." Youngwoo's eyes widened.

"Oh. Really?

"Do you think that is possible?

"When Balhae fell, Goryeo did nothing." Kim Yungyeong drew a breath.

"At the time, Goryeo wished to avoid being drawn into a major war in this region." Youngwoo's voice grew rough.

"Our kin died.

"They suffered under foreign rule.

"They lived while losing even their name.

"And Goryeo simply watched.

"Then afterward, I suppose it spoke of northern expansion.

"His Majesty Taejo's policy of northern advance and emphasis on Seogyeong were slogans meant to bind the realm together internally.

"When did Goryeo truly concern itself with Liaodong?" Kim Yungyeong's voice hardened as well.

"There is no need to believe that unification is always the right path." At those words, Youngwoo raised his head. In the cold air before dawn, his voice suddenly rose.

"Then do not say that separation is always the wrong path either." Kim Yungyeong shook his head. He fell silent for a moment as though swallowing a sigh.

"The Supreme Commander was furious." Youngwoo clenched his teeth.

"I was more furious." No sooner had a civil official arrived as Supreme Commander than the old divide between civil and military authority had opened again. Caught between the two, Park Geunsu was having the worst time of all. In a way, Youngwoo's resignation letter had almost been a relief.