Yi In-jung's words were short and clear.
"Our role here is finished.
We've come too far.
Bringing this army home will itself be an undertaking."
"We can no longer expect Yuan support.
The Western Region forces have already turned away.
This fight is no longer ours."
"Can't we just return?" Park Seong-jin asked.
Yi In-jung smiled faintly.
The smile held patience rather than rebuke.
He knew this was a question born of not yet knowing.
"That would be ideal," Yi In-jung said.
"But we can't go back as easily as we came.
This is their world now.
We have to make a road."
Park Seong-jin asked carefully,
"Then…?"
Yi In-jung's gaze deepened.
"Find a route—but make it our own.
We move not by imperial command, but by Goryeo's will."
He raised two fingers.
"Two things.
One is a justification for returning.
The other is a real artery that can save lives."
The weight of those words went beyond ordinary orders.
This was not a retreat.
It was closer to an escape.
Not of a few men, but of an army nearing twenty thousand—
to be brought out intact.
It was a test: to find Goryeo's place within the currents of the world.
Another task that began at the end of war.
Park Seong-jin steadied his breath and nodded.
"Wang Pilsun understands the ways of the world," Yi In-jung continued.
"A route he devises won't be mere movement.
It can become a path of survival without fighting—
woven from trade routes and diplomacy.
Confirm that possibility."
Arguing over whether an order is right or wrong is meaningless, Park Seong-jin thought.
A soldier's task is to make it possible.
"I will carry out the order."
"Seong-jin," Yi In-jung said.
"This isn't about winning a war.
It's a fight to bring our soldiers home alive."
His eyes shone with heavy resolve.
Park Seong-jin bowed deeply.
"I understand."
Yi In-jung gave his shoulder a light pat.
"Even if the road is harsh—go and see it."
Leaving the tent, Park Seong-jin looked up at the sky.
The flames had died down, but smoke still lingered.
Somewhere beyond that smoke, Wang Pilsun would be waiting.