160 ally with the enemy?
Arrival at Zhenjiang
It was near dawn.
As the fog slowly lifted, the outline of a city rose from the water.
Zhenjiang (鎭江).
On the southern bank of the Yangtze, every waterway leading into Jiangnan split and gathered here again.
Ships lay anchored in layers at every pier, and warehouses towered higher than the city walls.
Silk and grain, salt and tea were stacked in tiers, and above them countless flags cut through the mist and fluttered.
Even when the battlefield shook, the merchants' world did not halt its flow.
Park Seong-jin stood momentarily speechless before the city of water he was seeing for the first time.
"Why here of all places?"
The question answered itself almost immediately.
Zhenjiang was the road itself.
Ships came and went in endless numbers, and even those with no business passed through.
Dozens—no, hundreds—floated on the water, and more still were moored, each busy with something unseen.
When the boat touched the pier, a messenger who had been waiting approached.
He wore a white long robe—not the colors of war, but of trade and negotiation.
"Ah, you've come in person. We received word you were on the way. Lord Wang is waiting."
Wang Pilsun's residence was closer to a warehouse than a home.
Ledgers hung on every wall, and unopened bundles of sealed documents lay piled on the floor.
Representatives of Jiangnan merchant houses sat around him, dressed not in armor but silk, holding fresh brushes and account books.
"You've come, Seong-jin."
Wang Pilsun's voice was gentle.
At a single gesture from his hand, the merchants withdrew in silence.
"I received the general's letter. He said to discuss a retreat route."
Park Seong-jin bowed.
There was little need to say more.
Wang Pilsun already knew.
He looked out the window for a moment.
The Yangtze flowed slowly below.
"The empire is already splitting. Empress Gi has seized the court, and Toqto'a is gone. All that remains is collapse."
His finger tapped the map.
"Follow this waterway south and you reach Yangzhou, then Hangzhou. You could even go as far as Ningbo. Beyond that lies the Southern Sea."
Park Seong-jin spoke.
"Goryeo. We must reach Byeokrando."
"So you must hurry. The situation is falling off a cliff."
"Do you see a way back?" Park Seong-jin asked.
Wang Pilsun smiled slowly.
"There is always a road. The problem is money."
He spread the map again.
"The Jiangnan merchant houses are constantly breaking apart and recombining. The White Lotus remnants have attached themselves to Zhang Shicheng, and Guo Zixing holds Nanjing. Merchants sell to both sides. That is how they survive."
"Then… we—"
"There is only one path we can take."
Wang Pilsun's gaze settled on Park Seong-jin.
"Before the Yuan in the north collapses completely, we must borrow their name to return. That is the diplomatic retreat route. We cannot rely on the White Lotus remnants—betrayal is too likely."
"I'm asking about a military route," Park Seong-jin said.
"To return the troops intact."
"By sea."
Wang Pilsun answered without hesitation.
"Everything flows along the river. This route is the safest, fastest, and least costly. The only uncertainty is whether we can secure enough ships."
Park Seong-jin recalled the countless vessels he had seen on the way in.
"There were many."
"Exactly. We must open the path."
He waved his hand.
"I ask this of you."
"There's no need," Wang Pilsun replied.
"It's my duty."
Then he changed the subject.
"This could become politically dangerous. Other armies may withdraw, but they will want Goryeo to remain to the end."
"Who would want that?"
"Who else?" he said quietly.
"Empress Gi.*"
*Empress Gi (奇皇后), a Goryeo-born tribute woman, became empress of the Yuan dynasty and was the consort of Toghon Temür and mother of Ayushiridara (Biligtü Khan).
"Honestly… what country does she even belong to…"
"Power blinds," Wang Pilsun said.
"Once someone tastes it, they cannot escape. Parents, children, even their own nation—everything can be sacrificed for it."
Silence fell.
Reality was enough to seal wandering mouths.
Wang Pilsun continued.
"Listen carefully. The war will end soon. But that does not mean Yuan will win."
That night, drums echoed through the markets of Zhenjiang.
From afar came the shouts of soldiers.
Wang Pilsun closed the window.
"There is no time."
"What should we report to Beiping?"
"Say that since Toqto'a has been removed, we too are withdrawing."
"Will that be sufficient justification?"
"Others have left for the same reason. There's no reason we should be different."
Throughout the exchange, Song I-sul stood like a shadow.
He did not move, nor did he offer his gaze.
Like a still object—no, like part of the scenery—he did not intervene.
That was his nature: a man who hid his presence, determined to leave no name behind.
"The Yuan will fall soon," Wang Pilsun said.
Park Seong-jin asked, "Do you have new information?"
"No."
Wang Pilsun shook his head.
"I can tell simply by being in Jiangnan. They failed to suppress even a single rebellion. They only struck at the weakest—Zhang Shicheng—and that was all. This is not the empire it once was."
"We reclaimed Gaoxing and Liuhe," Park Seong-jin said.
Wang Pilsun's eyes sharpened briefly.
"That is your achievement. Those obsessed with claiming credit would never have done it."
"But how long can it hold?"
He pointed at the map.
"If Jiangnan's goods stop flowing north to Beiping, the empire cannot last. That is why Zhang Shicheng matters."
"The empire is already weak," Park Seong-jin said quietly.
"It will collapse soon," Wang Pilsun replied calmly.
"The question now is what comes next. What will Goryeo do?"
He paused, then asked,
"What should a Goryeo general on campaign do?"
"Bring the troops home intact."
"That is the foundation. But it is not enough."
His gaze deepened.
"If the White Lotus pushes all the way to Beiping, what happens to Goryeo?"
Park Seong-jin could not answer.
"A new empire will not welcome Goryeo. A son-in-law state, Empress Gi, Yuan imperial blood—every one of these becomes a burden."
He spoke softly.
"Goryeo is not at the end of a crisis. It stands at the very front."
"What should we do?" Park Seong-jin asked at once.
"Form diplomatic ties with Zhang Shicheng."
"You mean ally with the enemy?"
"Yes."
Wang Pilsun was unequivocal.
"No one knows who will win. But only those already connected can move into the next phase."
"The world always lets the wicked win," Park Seong-jin muttered.
"In the short term, yes."
Wang Pilsun smiled faintly.
"In the long run, not always."
"I saw Guo Zixing's army at Liuhe. Their posture was different. The discipline was remarkable."
"Predicting the end of the struggle for supremacy is futile. How could anyone know who will seize power? What matters is connection."
He looked at Park Seong-jin.
"Who should we be connected to?"
Park Seong-jin lowered his head.
"Then securing the Goryeo army's retreat is tied directly to this."
"Exactly."
"An agreement with Zhang Shicheng becomes the road home."
"You're saying we should help him?"
"Not help."
Wang Pilsun corrected him.
"Move forward together."
Only then did Park Seong-jin understand.
Wang Pilsun was not merely a merchant.
He was a man calculating the world after war—
one who sensed the flow of power almost instinctively.