51.
The wall collapsed.Stone cascaded down, black dust blotting out the sky.Through the breach the enemy surged, shouting.Fire still burned, and men ran straight across it.A human tide poured into the city.Iron struck iron, and blood splashed like water.
Baekin-gun gathered what forces remained and fell back.The inner palace tower became the last line of defense.There were fewer soldiers now, and the quivers showed bare bottoms.Hands closed around spear shafts and loose stones instead.Half the tower was already consumed by fire; smoke rose even from what remained.He held his ground.
"This is the end and the beginning of our homeland—Goryeo!"At the cry, the soldiers straightened again.
Fighting broke out in every alley.A single life was split by a single blade, a single breath.Blood coated spearpoints, and fire spread across that blood.The fallen were piled over by the living.Pools of blood formed in the streets; smoke and ash mixed thickly.The line between enemy and ally vanished.Only sound and movement remained.
Seongjin threw away his broken bow and drew his sword.His clothes were scorched and ragged.He twisted his body, blocked an enemy blade, struck back.He stepped forward again.Blood slicked the ground beneath his feet; he slipped and drove his sword into the stone to keep his balance.If his father had seen it, he would have scolded him harshly.
All around him was red smoke.Each breath in carried fire; each breath out carried the stench of blood.
Then, from the direction of the gate, came the thunder of hooves.Yarutai rode into the alley.
"Open the way! Spare them—find their commanders!"
His voice echoed between the walls.Soldiers followed, hooves crushing stone as they flooded the street.
Baekin-gun heard it.He turned and looked up at the tower.The Goryeo banner was still snapping in the wind.He smiled, briefly.
"Good. This is enough."
He drew his sword.A few soldiers still breathing stood beside him.He nodded to them.
"We go to the end."
Yarutai's cavalry tore into the alley.Iron crashed against iron.Sparks burst.The world turned red.
Seongjin crouched low and swung his blade.A spearpoint grazed his shoulder; the pain registered only as sensation.His sword cut an enemy's throat.Blood washed over his face.
At that moment, the banner atop the wall billowed violently.Fire crept up and swallowed it.
"Save the banner!"
The cry spread, but the flames had already taken the cloth.The banner broke apart into red ash and scattered into the air.Ash settled on shoulders—on the living and the fallen alike.
Yarutai watched from horseback.Blood and ash clung to his face.
"We have won,"he said.
The words were low, heavy.At his feet, bodies lay piled like a hill—the mound of victory he had raised.
The wind blew.Embers stirred again atop the corpses.Fire slowly devoured the streets of Liaoyang.
The sky was red.The wind was black.Within it, someone's blade struck one last time.
The alley was blocked by shattered wood and roof tiles.Ash and blood carpeted the ground; each step made a dry crunch.Seongjin pressed his back into a cracked wall and forced his breathing to slow.His heart hammered.If he stepped out now, death would reach him at once.The judgment was clear.
A slanted shadow appeared behind him.Dohyeon.His clothes were torn; one thigh was soaked in blood.Even in the red smoke, his face was set hard.Seongjin reached out and gripped his shoulder.Up close, his breathing was ragged.
"You okay?"
"No."
Dohyeon's answer was short.Calm, but his eyes wavered.He leaned to keep his balance.Still, he squeezed Seongjin's hand once.That single contact said more than words.
At the end of the alley, Seongjin hid again.His breath trembled; his front teeth showed slightly.The hand holding his bow shook, but his eyes stayed sharp.
"Where did everyone go… It feels like we're the only ones left."
"When we were winning, we were always together,"Dohyeon said.Bitterness flickered at his mouth.
"When things collapse, everyone's alone."
"I don't see the general either."
"He found his own road."
Fatigue and anger overlapped in Seongjin's voice.
"Those who give orders move first.They find their own way out first."
He looked up at the sky.Dying in a foreign land felt suddenly inevitable.Father, brother—and now himself.The thought settled like a natural conclusion.Smoke still lay thick as clouds, and footsteps and shouts kept their rhythm inside and outside the walls.The battlefield was still breathing.
He thought of when they had taken this city.The Red Turbans must have scattered like this too.It wasn't comfort—but it became a judgment.
"We're not the ones who last."
It wasn't a plan.It was an observation.The sense that the place left standing at the very end was never meant for him.And with it, the thought that retreating now would be turning his back not on the battle, but on himself.
A short silence passed.Anxiety and resolve overlapped within it.
Dohyeon slowly knelt.He pulled out a small bandage and pressed it to the wound.Blood kept flowing.Seongjin crouched to help.In the dark alley, their hands moved without rest.
"This is the end here,"Seongjin said.
"The city is full of fire and enemies.Let's go down—find somewhere to breathe."
What they needed now was to survive.
Seongjin scanned the alley floor.Shadows slipped past beyond the wall.A small North Yuan unit.The spaces between alleys were tightening fast.
"Down,"he said, steadying his breath.
"A cellar, a shrine—doesn't matter.When night comes, we move.Ending it here isn't a choice."
His voice was low and firm.Dohyeon nodded.Seongjin laughed once—short, sharp.
As they moved, a low shout burst from across the alley.
"There! Signs of hiding—search!"
North Yuan voices.Footsteps drew closer; ash scattered over stone.Seongjin pulled Dohyeon up by the arm.
"Quiet. Leave no trace."
They moved as one, crawling into a shattered storehouse.The door was half broken; inside was dark and damp.The smell of mold mixed with old oil.Crossing the threshold, the noise outside dulled by a layer.
Inside, Seongjin picked up a scrap of cloth from the floor.Part of a broken banner.Blood still stained it.He stared at it briefly, then spoke low.
Dohyeon tightened the bandage.Seongjin searched the space.At the back was a narrow passage—stairs leading underground.
They lowered their breathing and descended slowly.
Below was deeper darkness.
As they went down, Seongjin closed his eyes for a moment.Home.His sisters.His teacher's voice.What he had to return to protect grew clear.War tried to sweep it all away at once—but not yet.Not now.
When they lay down in the underground store, Seongjin whispered,
"We stand again."
The sound was faint, but unshaken.
Dohyeon looked up at him.Seongjin closed his eyes, bow in hand.Outside, footsteps and shouts were still close.Smoke seeped through the cracks, filling their breaths.
That night, they hid beneath the heart of burning Liaoyang—in the darkness where the end of battle and its beginning overlapped,where only the breathing of the survivors continued.