37.
The stench of burning flesh, blood, and pine resin crushed the air in a dizzying mix.Seong-jin gripped the firing rest of his crossbow with both hands.His fingertips had split open and blood seeped out, yet he felt no pain.His body now moved like a machine.He had already lost count of how many bolts he had fired.
"Distance—one hundred twenty jang!"As the controller's shout rang along the wall, the crossbowmen on both flanks echoed at once."One hundred twenty jang!""One hundred twenty jang!""One hundred twenty jang!"
The banner officer on the left raised the red flag halfway.At that single signal, dozens of heavy crossbows rose together.The groan of iron strings being drawn tore through the air.
Seong-jin bent his knee and pressed the stirrup with his foot.The muscles of arms and legs extended at once, metal tension snapping tight.Cold sweat ran down his spine.
After a brief pause, the order came."Fire!"
Pipipiping—
Iron bolts launched in unison from the wall, ripping through the sky.Bolts from heavy crossbows were far thicker and heavier than ordinary arrows.They punched through shields, pierced the first body, and lodged into the second.The sound of iron striking armor burst out in succession.Dust rose, and the enemy vanguard swayed like a wave.
They had waited until the enemy entered range—then unleashed a synchronized, aimed volley.
"Reload!"
Before the command even finished, Seong-jin was already setting the next string.In the time it took to draw a breath, the second volley was ready.
Oh Jin-cheol shouted beside him."Lower the angle! One hundred jang!""One hundred jang!""One hundred jang!""One hundred jang!""One hundred jang!"
Everyone lowered their bodies at once, dropping the firing angle.At that moment, the red flag flashed upward.
Pipipiping—
The second rain of bolts spread lower and denser.The enemy's front ranks collapsed in a heap.Iron cavalry fell from their horses, and the infantry behind them toppled in a chain.Blood, soil, and burning debris sprayed upward together.
"The enemy formation is wavering!"Hwang Hyeon-pil's shout made the entire rampart tremble.
Indeed, the shattered vanguard of the Northern Yuan tangled and crushed its own rear.Banners twisted, horses screamed from every direction.They had numbers—but the killing power was Goryeo's.
Then another order fell."Continue firing! Distance one hundred fifty jang! Three volleys—continuous!"
Seong-jin drew the string three times in succession.His arms burned; his fingers were already torn open.But he could not stop.
Pipiping—Pipiping—Pipiping—
Each shot felt as if the wall itself shook.The soldiers on the rampart roared together.The enemy loosed indiscriminately toward the fortress, but Goryeo's heavy crossbows delivered precise, aimed fire from above.The scale and quality of damage were different.At last, the enemy archers turned away.It looked like a withdrawal.
"Manse to Goryeo!""Manse to the Sungŭi Army!"
Beyond the flames, the enemy banners—once faint—finally shifted direction.The cavalry turned their horses and pulled back.Only the clatter of iron fragments rattled in the wind.
Seong-jin let out a long breath.His fingertips still trembled.
The wind rose.Burning oil turned into smoke and stained the sky red.Seong-jin lifted his head.Against that crimson sky, a line of crows rose and drifted.
"They're pulling back…"Oh Jin-cheol's low voice reached him.
But Seong-jin did not smile.Below the wall, everything was still burning, bodies piled upon bodies.Those who stood atop the wall lived—but the fire beneath their feet had not gone out.
Only then did Seong-jin understand.When the enemy poured down arrows, Goryeo struck back like thunder, wall and men together.
---*
"They're retreating," someone said.But the Great General shook his head."They'll turn back—and come again."
No sooner had the words ended than dust rose at the far edge of the plain outside the walls.It was not dust.It was cloud.The light of the sky dimmed, and the ground began to tremble again.
Thud— thud—
The Northern Yuan were returning.
They did not scatter like a routed force.They re-formed their ranks and surged forward again like a tide.They fell back once to loosen the defenders—then struck with a second wave to break the barrier.That was their way of war.
If it doesn't work once, they return by another path.
"Siege towers coming up!"
At the command, tall wooden towers—lashed together from timber—rose slowly outside the walls.They stood higher than the ramparts, meant to look down into the fortress.Archers and scouts climbed them like insects.
"Report!""Enemy strength concentrated at the South Gate! Dozens of heavy crossbows, hundreds of archers!"
The shouts from atop the towers struck the wall on the wind.As if he had been waiting for it, Naghachu pointed toward the thinner sector."Strike the southeast watchtower."
Mounted archers burst forward.They charged at full speed, wheeled within range, loosed arrows, and withdrew.The following riders repeated the same arc.Run, shoot, pull away—an endless chain of fire.The southeast tower could not even lift its head.Arrows scraped past the stonework.
The Great General issued orders at once."Reinforce! Crossbow units to the eastern wall! Spearmen press tight to the south! Commanders—move without waiting for orders!"
The commands spread like wind.Soldiers ran, moving shields, piling earth-filled sacks atop burning palisades.Smoke rose, and the shadows of the wall sank into red clouds.
Then it happened.The Northern Yuan roared in unison.It sounded as if the sky itself were tearing apart.Cavalry charged in front, infantry waves driving behind.
"Arrows!"
Enemy archers raised their bows at once.In an instant, the sky darkened with black rain.Not rain—arrows.Thousands poured down onto the ramparts like a cloudburst.
"Shields up!"Hwang Hyeon-pil's voice cracked.
The soldiers raised solid shields—wood faced with iron—over their heads.Tang— tang— tang—The sound came in relentless succession, like rain hammering a roof.If even one struck bare flesh, no one knew if they would live or die.Yet they endured calmly, because there was no other choice.They simply endured.The clash of metal did not cease.
Feathers shredded in midair, broken arrowheads rained down onto the wall.Some soldiers were struck through gaps between shields and fell.But no one cried out.
Seong-jin crouched behind his shield.Steadying his breath, he held the crossbow between his knees.He waited—for the moment the downpour would slacken.For the opening to strike back.
Hoofbeats drew closer.The arrow rain slowed by a single beat.
Then the Great General shouted."Now! Raise the fire!"
Signal smoke burst upward from the ramparts—red against the sky.The crossbowmen rose together.Hidden arms drew strings once more.
Pipipiping—
This time, the bolts fell from above.The advantage of height.The shelter of the wall.The crushing force of the crossbow.Horses collapsed, enemy cavalry spilled and tumbled.The exchange ratio was absurd.A few of ours were hit—but dozens, no, hundreds of theirs fell.
If the enemy's arrows were a rainstorm,Goryeo's crossbows were thunder.
And as the thunder passed,the storm-like surge of the enemy line faltered—and began, at last, to subside.