Dawn broke.The flames from the day before had not yet gone out.The walls of Liaoyang Fortress held a red glow through the night, and the remaining embers breathed upward even within the morning fog.The fortress looked alive.A living body made of fire—burning, cooling, and burning again.Park Seong-jin watched that light as he checked his equipment.
Then Hwang Hyun-pil's voice cut across the camp."Veteran archers, bow maintenance complete!""Sword units, ready to advance!""Spear units to the left! Shield units to the front!"
The short commands spread like waves.This was no longer a fight fought from afar.It was a fight that struck the walls—where iron and stone interlocked, where flesh and fire tangled.Oh Jin-cheol let out a dry laugh beside him."Now it finally looks like a real war.""A way to die,"Seong-jin replied shortly."Those meant to die will die, and those left will live."Oh Jin-cheol said,"That's war."
The soldiers began moving logs.Three gil in length, two areum in girth—a massive battering ram meant to strike the gate.Wrapped in iron chains and fitted with wheels, it was set at the center of the formation.Beside it, catapults were being raised.Stones, fire, and cloth soaked in rancid oil were piled together.Hands moved without expression.As if carving wood, they prepared death.
"Provisions?"Hwang Hyun-pil asked."Two days' worth left.""We finish it in two days."There was no hesitation.He spoke as if he himself commanded a hundred thousand troops."We won't let today's sun set."When those words reached the Second Detachment, the air sank.No one raised their voice.Blades were sharpened, straps tightened.Ash blown by the wind clung to faces, but there was no time to wipe it away.
Park Seong-jin drew his short blade.As he steadied his breath and ran his palm along the edge, the cold of iron pricked his fingertips.The firelight trembled faintly on the blade.
At that moment, a thought passed through him.Faith can burn away.But belief—survives.The flames of Liaoyang Fortress had not yet gone out.And into that fire, the Goryeo army was walking.
That day, there was no wind, and it was quiet.A silence as if the sky itself were turning away from this war.
"Begin bombardment!"The moment the general's voice burst out, the stillness collapsed like a mound of earth.The first stone flew, tracing a parabolic arc.Kwaang—!When it struck the wall, stone rang out and the entire wall shuddered.Soon the second and third stones struck the same spot.Not many places—one point.The wall of Liaoyang Fortress did not collapse outright, but its inner flesh was quickly exposed.The packed layers of brick, earth, and stone crumbled like sand.Flames surged up from atop the wall.
Fire arrows.In Seong-jin's eyes, red trajectories were drawn.Each time an arrow bearing embers cut through the air and fell, fire burst beneath it.The flames covered catapults and carts, devouring oil-soaked cloth and heaps of straw.Soldiers stamped with their feet and threw dirt over them, but the more they pressed, the deeper the fire sank.
"Hold the left formation! Shields forward!"Hwang Hyun-pil's shout tore through the air.Soldiers ran and raised their shields.
Then the bombardment struck the wall again.This time, one side of the wall collapsed.A massive stone smashed through and rolled down.Part of the wall gave way, and dust soared into the sky.From the gap, enemies poured out like dumpling filling.Faces scorched by fire, remnants of the White Lotus Sect with red cloth bound around their heads.Their eyes were crazed.More than a will to live, there was an obsession with "having to believe."
The general ordered fire.The veteran archers took the command and loosed arrows without pause.Iron-headed arrows flew toward the breach.An unbreakable rain of arrows struck the enemies charging through the flames.
"Spear units forward!"Spearpoints crowded thickly toward the gate.At that moment, a howl burst from inside the fortress."Maitreya is coming!"The cry rode the flames downward.Seong-jin thought coldly to himself.That cry sounded less like calling a god, and more like an excuse to survive.A curse upon those who commit evil in the name of faith…
Someone had turned that cry into the language of the sword, and they were leaning on those words as they came out to die.In the next instant, the enemies charged.Not swords—torches.People coming out to die.That was the final face of faith.
Arrows poured again.Crossbows and bows sounded together.Pipipipiping—!Between flashes of fire, flesh burst and blood scattered.The vanguard fell, flames flaring as they went down, and that fire engulfed those behind them in turn.
The first day at Liaoyang Fortress began with fire, and answered with fire.Seong-jin crouched behind a shield and shot his bow.His arms trembled, and sensation left his fingers.Even so, he drew the string.The bowstring bit into his fingertips like a chalk line.
He saw it.An enemy slumped against the burning wall, muttering.The arrow he loosed pierced the man's chest.As the man collapsed, his lips never stopped moving.Flames and murmuring rose together.