The early winter sky was dim and hazy.
Three days after leaving Gouwu Fortress, Yi In-jung's army finally caught sight of the ramparts of Liuhe Fortress at the southern edge of the plain.
Shrouded in mist and smoke, the fortress reached them first as a shadow rather than a solid form.
It stood high, a natural stronghold set where rivers and canals crossed.
Two kinds of banners fluttered atop the walls.
The red banners belonged to Guo Zixing's forces, and the white ones to the remnants of Zhang Shicheng.
Different powers were gathered within a single fortress.
Yi In-jung lifted his gaze from horseback.
Inside the walls, faint movements continued.
Instead of drumbeats or shouted orders, a quiet pause—like drawn breath—wrapped around the fortress.
In places where battles are about to resume, tension flows like a river, unseen yet constant.
A silence spread, as if the massive fortress were completely empty.
Yi In-jung spoke in a low voice.
"How did they join hands? Given Guo Zixing's temperament, helping Zhang Shicheng would not come easily."
That Guo Zixing's army had come to support Zhang Shicheng's refuge was unexpected.
The rebel leaders had risen in different regions and were rarely inclined to unite.
This was not one flame spreading to another, but many fires igniting at once.
Each regarded the others as potential rivals.
Yoon Gyeong-bok answered at once.
"It means there's someone in Guo Zixing's camp who can read the board. Someone who knows this is the moment to gather strength."
Yi In-jung nodded.
"They're already divided on the inside."
After studying the walls for a moment, he called out a name.
"Park Seong-jin."
Park Seong-jin stepped forward.
"Yes, General."
"Lead a scouting party and examine the area close to the walls."
"By your command."
Park Seong-jin took twelve forward scouts and rode out.
They swept the fields along the river.
The winter wind brushed dry grass, and broken branches drifted slowly on the water.
Crossing a low rise, Liuhe Fortress came fully into view.
Near the walls, sound died first.
Park Seong-jin dismounted, handed his reins to a soldier, and lowered his body.
Before sight, smell reached him.
Rotting reeds, long-pressed earth, and the damp odor of standing water caught in his nose.
The wall was closer than expected.
It was tall, yet close enough that he could see the grain of each stone.
Marks of hurried repairs—brick and earth hastily packed—gaped in places, and the mortar had not fully dried.
When he pressed his palm against it, cold moisture seeped into his skin.
There was movement above.
The sentries' footsteps were uneven.
The clink of metal colliding sounded at irregular intervals, and with each noise, shadows wavered atop the wall.
This was not the movement of a trained army.
They lingered without shared signals, each pacing on their own.
Park Seong-jin divided his breathing into shallow fragments.
He neither inhaled nor exhaled fully, reducing his breath to the minimum.
The structure of the barbican before the gate came into view.
The rounded wall looked solid at first glance, but inside, a drainage channel ran low.
A path for water to escape.
A place where a man would slip.
Footprints marked the ground beneath the wall.
They were irregular.
Traces from yesterday, or the day before.
If the watch had been tightened overnight, such marks would not remain.
Someone coughed above.
Park Seong-jin froze.
He did not move.
He did not blink.
When the cough faded and footsteps resumed, he slowly eased his body back.
Earth clung to his clothes, and cold water soaked his knees.
When he withdrew beyond the rise, Song I-sul asked quietly,
"Well?"
Without lifting his head, Park Seong-jin answered.
"The walls are high. But their breath is light."
After a brief pause, he added,
"The soldiers' movements are uneven. There's room to shake them with the first blow."
Song I-sul shook his head.
"Too hasty. Those driven into a corner do not retreat easily."
The scouting was brief, but the truth was clear.
Park Seong-jin returned and reported to the main camp.
Yi In-jung spread out the map.
"The outer walls are earth and brick. There's a canal inside."
He drew a large circle around the northern sector.
"This is the point of assault. Concentrate firepower here."
His brush paused.
"Deploy Huihui trebuchets and crossbowmen along the canal."
Orders flowed in sequence.
"Leave the passage open. Let them collapse from within first."
That night, lights of labor did not fade from the camp.
Siege engines and trebuchets were assembled, and messengers moved tirelessly between units.
Soldiers drove stakes into the ground and raised shield walls in silence.
Park Seong-jin stood by the river, watching the lights.
The water rippled with a silvery sheen.
More banners flickered along the ramparts of Liuhe Fortress.
It was quiet—
but the sense that this quiet would not last was unmistakable.