155.The waterway led into the Yangtze.
Before we could make any decision, the allied front was already collapsing.
Commands, formations, and the outward shape of battle remained, but the armies that had once moved together were quietly slipping away.
Some left openly, shouting as they went.
Others vanished without a sound.
One might not notice who arrives, but the places left behind are impossible to miss.
Horses stood idle.
The look in the soldiers' eyes changed.
When news of Tokto's fall spread, the Western Region troops began abandoning their camps one by one.
They no longer had a reason to hold a sword.
The basis for deciding who they were fighting for had disappeared.
"The Western troops are clearing the rear!"
Reports from the scouts arrived in quick succession.
Yi In-jung looked down at the flags on the map.
The western flank lay empty, like a void.
"They're pulling out this fast…" Yun Gyeongbok muttered.
"The Merkit and the Western Regions are closely tied," Yi In-jung replied.
"They were loyal to him. With him gone, they've judged they no longer have cause to fight."
He paused, then added,
"In the end, this imperial war was Tokto's war."
Where the Western troops withdrew, the line collapsed at once.
Tents stood empty.
Horses, still tied to their posts, cried out.
Granaries were abandoned, leaving only flags flapping in the wind.
Other units moved in to fill the gap, but the formation was already broken.
Confusion spread like a contagion.
When one side wavered, the rest followed.
An army was like a single living body.
When the core stopped, the limbs followed.
Yi In-jung stood before the command standard.
The wind lashed the tent hard.
"At this rate, the encirclement will open," Yun Gyeongbok warned.
"I know," Yi In-jung said evenly.
"We hold what line we can. After that, all we can do is watch the order of collapse."
Before nightfall, several more provincial forces withdrew.
Night deepened.
Unease spread. Shouldn't we be packing as well?
Lights trembled in all directions.
Without being told, soldiers silently packed their gear and set saddles on their horses.
Everyone moved the same way.
"Has the order to retreat been given?" Park Seong-jin asked.
"No. Everyone is simply moving that way."
Yi In-jung looked toward the distant battlements.
The lights were weak, and something about them felt hollow.
"For days now, the city has felt strange," Park Seong-jin said.
"Empty."
"Go," Yi In-jung answered shortly.
"Go in deep and confirm it. See for yourself how things stand."
"Understood."
Park Seong-jin disappeared into the darkness.
A wind blew from the west, carrying the smell of the steppe mixed with the traces of those who had left.
"An empire without the Merkit is not the same as before," Yi In-jung said quietly.
"Then must we leave as well?" Yun Gyeongbok asked carefully.
"Yes. We watch the situation and choose the moment."
An Empty Fortress, an Open Waterway
Using the cover of night, Park Seong-jin approached the wall and climbed carefully at an unguarded section.
Large stretches of the long rampart were empty.
The places that should have been packed with soldiers facing outward were bare.
Behind the wall, where troops should have been waiting, there was nothing but slack space.
This was not a place that had always been empty.
People had been here—and then vanished.
Without further hesitation, he dropped into the city.
Fallen banners lay where they had collapsed, and no one had bothered to raise them.
Discipline had drained away.
Only then was he certain.
They were already gone.
The vast army was nearly nowhere to be seen.
We were played.
Park Seong-jin headed south, toward the area he had noted before—the route leading to the waterways.
There, people were still moving.
A sluice gate beneath the wall had been raised, and small boats moved constantly beneath it, carrying people away.
"…So that's it."
For days, they had been slipping out of the city.
Incoming and outgoing boats crossed paths, yet every sound was carefully swallowed.
Covers were drawn tight to block light, and even the sound of oars was smothered.
They were fast.
The boats that slipped out beneath the wall formed a line all the way across the southern lake.
Looking closer, he saw ropes stretched over the water.
When a boat pulled on them, it slid forward without a sound.
We were completely fooled.
Yet another thought followed.
This was not entirely bad.
When Park Seong-jin returned and reported, Yi In-jung struck his knee in realization.
"So both sides were digging their escape routes."
An urgent signal was sent, and Goryeo commanders gathered at Yi In-jung's tent—men not widely known by name, but formidable all the same.
Yi In-jung gave a brief report and spread out the map.
"Tonight, we cross the wall and secure the empty city.
Take food and weapons first.
If possible, seize the boats.
Divide the roles."
Yun Gyeongbok asked,
"What about consulting the Yuan main camp?"
"If we do that, we'll waste the night arguing over whether it's true or not," Yi In-jung said, tapping the map.
"And consult whom, exactly?"
"They'll say there's no reason to fight.
But we need ground we can hold.
Liuhe Fortress is ideal for defense.
We can hold it better than they can."
"Understood."
"Understood."
"Understood."
That night, the Goryeo forces crossed the walls alone with ease.
They opened the gates, poured in, and swiftly cleared the remaining stragglers.
The Yuan troops followed late, but Liuhe Fortress—its core already gone—fell in less than an hour.
Park Seong-jin went down to the southern side channel.
Moonlight lay across the water.
He found a boat left behind and climbed aboard.
Footsteps followed shortly after.
It was Song I-sul.
"Why are you here?"
"You tell me first."
"I saw them escaping this way. I wanted to strike, but now I'm checking where they went."
"Where do you think?"
Song I-sul jerked his chin toward the far shore.
"Across. They slipped out toward the Yangtze."
"Yes."
Before taking the oars, Park Seong-jin felt along the water's edge.
Like a blind man searching for a latch, his hand swept until his fingers caught something firm—a coarse rope braided from hemp.
He pulled.
The slack line went taut, and a faint vibration traveled from far away.
"Two boats. Crossing now."
"Hm. Let's follow."
The boat glided forward.
There was no sound.
Darkness settled over the water, swallowing the world.
"This way is fast. And silent."
"It's the opposite side of the north gate. Most sounds won't carry. Everyone fled, and no one noticed."
"You've got a good sense," Song I-sul said.
"I'm the second son. You learn to read things."
"Your father and elder brother fell, and you came in their place?"
"Yes."
"Admirable."
"It was only natural. If not me, then who?"
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen in the coming year."
"Then you're fifteen now."
Song I-sul chuckled, and Park Seong-jin lifted his uniform.
"I even have my ID tag."
"They must have made it when you were conscripted. You lied about your age."
"Yes."
The two shared a brief laugh in the dark.
The lake was still.
Explosions still echoed faintly from Liuhe Fortress, but they were far away.
Here, time seemed to move slowly.
"Where did you study?" Song I-sul asked.
"At my first posting, my senior taught me breathing.
General Yi In-jung is my senior.
I studied at Mount Guwol."
"Yi Wol-gun of Mount Guwol?"
"Yes."
"Oh. So you're his disciple."
He laughed, then added,
"Then why are you so bad?"
"I've only been learning for a few months."
"A few months?"
Song I-sul clicked his tongue.
"For a few months, that's excellent. Who joins a special assault unit after only months?"
"My senior looked after me. I was originally an archer in the second division of the Sungui Army."
"At fifteen…"
Song I-sul turned his head toward the dark edge of the water.
Beyond it, the fleeing boats' lanterns wavered faintly.
"The world is strange.
Children come to the battlefield and kill, while old men turn away."
Park Seong-jin smiled quietly.
"Everyone just does their part."
"…Yes," Song I-sul murmured.
"That's what makes it frightening."
The boat drifted on with the current.
Under the moonlight, their shadows stretched long.
Behind them, the fires of Liuhe Fortress faded until they were gone.
The waterway led into the Yangtze.
When they returned and reported, Yi In-jung stood in silence for a long while.
Then he let out a long breath.