48.
Oh Jin-cheol had somehow found a bowl of food.It was lukewarm.On a starving battlefield, that alone gave it value.
Rice mixed thickly with broth.It looked like the gukbap sold at the pork stalls of Gaegyeong.There was meat on top.Who had cooked it, in the middle of all this?The bowl carried the unmistakable trace of a human hand.Between the smells of blood and ash, it was the first sign of life in a long while.
Park Seong-jin took the bowl without a word.In the cold air, the steam vanished quickly, leaving only a thin sheen of fat.He drank the broth first.The lukewarm warmth spread down his throat, quietly, deeply.
That temperature felt like the most complete warmth left in the world.As the broth slid down, something tightened inside his chest.The moment he swallowed that sense of life, the body that had gone gray and rigid began to move again.The realization of being alive always came late—only after blood and fire had passed, rising softly from deep inside the throat.
He kept eating, spoon after spoon, then asked belatedly,"What about you, Captain?"
Oh Jin-cheol smiled and gestured with his chin toward Dohyeon."He ate first. Only got two hands."
Seong-jin turned the bowl slightly in his hands and asked again,"And the bowl?"
Oh Jin-cheol paused, then said slowly,"The owner of the bowl is dead."
The words lingered in the air.Namu Gwaneum Bosal.Feeding my hunger atop another's death.
At first it floated past like someone else's story.Only later did it sink into the chest.Park Seong-jin stopped eating.He lowered his head.The rice left in his mouth turned bitter and salty.
No one spoke for a while.The wind stirred, scattering the smell of burning.Among the savory scent of broth came the sharp smell of burned human hair.
Tears welled.There was no need to separate reasons from causes.There was no other truth to be explained.Someone had died. That was all.The sensation of being alive settled heavily on his chest.
The lukewarm warmth of a single bowl of soup rested on a dead man's bowl.That was enough.The living ate like that—and prepared to fight again.
Baekin-gun's Council — Designing the Defense of the Fortress
Dawn on the battlements was cold.Burned ash drifted on the wind, and from afar came the steady rhythm of hammers and shovels.
Baekin-gun sat before a large map spread across the main table.Commanders and staff from each sector stood around him.No one spoke first.
"I'll summarize. The southern wall is packed with sand. A few more strikes and it collapses again. It falls faster than we can rebuild. So we do not cling to the wall itself. We cut them down before they reach it."
Baekin-gun pointed to the breach on the southern wall.
A deputy added markings to the map."First: redeploy the crossbows. Do not bind them to fixed towers. Set temporary platforms above the breach and adjacent defenses to gain height. Align firing lanes between embrasures and platforms so effective fire continues beyond the enemy's stone-throwing range."
Baekin-gun continued."Second: reorganize arrow usage. Arrows are not for consumption, but for concentration. Do not scatter them. Gather them on a point. Targets are trebuchets, operators, commanders, and carriers. Fire in controlled volleys, then stop. From today, fire control will be drilled repeatedly. Ranges, angles, cease-fire signals by banner color—learn them until they are instinct. Assign multiple controllers. Even if one line breaks, the flow of arrows continues."
He opened his palm."Third: the fire net. Place archers in a grid along the collapsed zone and the narrow interior passages. Overlapping fields of fire. When the enemy presses in, the net tightens and routes close. Use the difference in bolt velocity between heavy crossbows and lighter bows to create layers: long range in front, precision in the middle, reserve in the rear."
His voice hardened."Fourth: immediate reinforcement. A fallen wall is rebuilt while fighting. Pre-stage stone, sandbags, palisades, and logs in each sector. At the moment of collapse, it must be covered at once. Temporary stonework is not permanence—it is support. A device to create time."
He closed his eyes briefly, then opened them."Fifth: labor and supply. Supplies are secured. We will repurpose reclaimed stores and enemy materiel. Civilians will be mobilized for transport and organization—in return, rations are guaranteed. That is how this lasts. Simple arithmetic."
He concluded sharply."From now on, we defend not the wall, but time and control. Cut the hands that turn the trebuchets, the mouths that issue orders, the feet that carry ammunition. Select and deploy dedicated marksmen. Grant vision, control silent kills. This is the economy of war."
The meeting became orders immediately.Each sector moved at once.
Fire-control drills repeated volleys, cease-fire, and resumption by banner signal.Fire-net drills synchronized angles and ranges to seal movement corridors.Reinforcement materials were distributed near projected collapse points.Supplies were overseen by civilian supervisors, arrows and bowstrings bundled in reserve.
Hwang Hyeon-pil spoke quietly to Park Seong-jin."Sector Two moves north. You're the middle layer between heavy crossbows and bows. You lead. Target trebuchet crews and commanders."
Park Seong-jin nodded."Understood."
After the others dispersed, Baekin-gun added one final word."Remember this. A fortress is not stone. If people endure, the fortress stands. Structure and discipline are life."
It was an order—and a rare form of comfort.Amid the ruins of battle, Liaoyang began to be redesigned.Crossbows were moved. The flow of arrows was controlled.The fortress was being rebuilt—not as stone, but as a structure of will.