Wang Pil-sun presented ten bolts of silk.
The winter sky over Gaegyeong was leaden.
Though it was winter, the clouds hung low as if rain might fall, and droplets constantly gathered beneath the palace eaves.
Even after the war had ended, the air within the palace remained cold.
Where the turmoil of the battlefield had vanished, words now overflowed.
Lee In-jung stood at the center of those words.
His decision—to distance Goryeo from the Yuan—had shaken the court.
"Have you forgotten the Great Khan's grace?"
"How can a general utter such words?"
Petitions poured in one after another.
No name was written, yet everyone knew they were aimed at Lee In-jung.
His rank was high*, but his roots within the court were shallow.
Merit earned on the battlefield swiftly turned into political burden.
This was a current Lee In-jung had already learned through many campaigns.
*He had been promoted to General upon deployment, and after returning was raised to Grand General of the third senior rank.
Still, he did not retreat.
"This war is already over," he said.
"Yuan no longer possesses the strength to defend itself."
Within those words lay the meaning that Goryeo must now defend itself.
They were also a declaration that foreign interference would no longer be endured.
That single statement struck directly at the court's unease.
The remaining Yuan faction knew well that their authority existed beneath the Khan's shadow.
If that shadow vanished, they too would lose their footing.
That night, in the State Council chamber, the Minister of Rites spoke.
"General, we understand your loyalty. However, Goryeo is still a state invested by the empire, a royal son-in-law nation. Your words now shake the order of the court."
Lee In-jung smiled calmly.
"An investiture does not protect a country. Only swords and armies protect the nation and its people now."
He continued.
"Yuan is no longer the empire it once was. It is a hollow state that trembles even at minor uprisings. Judging the present by the standards of the past will lead to grave error."
At that moment, the air in the chamber grew heavy.
Knowing that change is coming and predicting how power will shift are different matters.
The axis itself was turning.
The envoy Lee In-jung had brought—Zhang Shicheng's—was no small matter either.
The king sat quietly with his eyes closed.
Deep fatigue weighed upon his face, along with the burden of deferred judgment.
After a pause, the king spoke.
"Everyone, withdraw."
With that single sentence, the meeting ended.
Yet it was approval delivered through silence.
As Lee In-jung stepped outside, he became keenly aware of himself.
He was no longer at the center of court order—he had become one who unsettled it.
He realized he now stood as the most radical figure in present politics.
Several days later, Zhang Shicheng's envoy again knocked at the palace gates.
He entered cautiously, dressed with restraint and proper decorum.
The form was polite, yet his manner carried cold calculation.
There was a faint trace of arrogance toward a smaller state.
"Lord Zhang Shicheng sends his respects to His Majesty the King of Goryeo and wishes your realm peace and stability."
No one in the court failed to grasp the meaning.
A third power had sent an official signal.
The court split once more.
"To receive this envoy alone will invite the Khan's wrath."
"But Jiangnan is already in their hands."
"If we turn away now, we will be the ones abandoned next."
Naturally, all eyes turned to Lee In-jung.
After a brief silence, he spoke toward the king.
The envoy said,
"His Lordship proposes discussions of a peace agreement. If possible, he asks that you consider mutual defense beyond mere non-aggression."
"They highly value Goryeo's military strength."
"In their vision of unification, Goryeo stands as a key pillar."
The king nodded slowly.
"For many years, we have lived under Yuan's oppression."
"Accepting change is not an easy matter."
The envoy was Zhang Shicheng's younger brother,
one of the original eighteen who had risen in the early uprising.
He had earned great merit in capturing multiple prefectures north of the Yangtze.
He explained that Yuan's Grand Tutor and Right Chancellor, Toqto'a, had attacked them,
but that Toqto'a had now lost command of the armies.
The Yuan forces had withdrawn, and the Great Zhou army had pursued and won decisive victories.
They had advanced south and now controlled Pingjiang Circuit—Suzhou itself.
Jiangnan was divided among three powers.
That winter, the king issued an edict.
Reports from the generals who had fought weighed heavily in the decision.
They had seen with their own eyes that Yuan was no longer what it had been.
They judged this moment a chance to escape interference.
They also believed it time to dismantle the Bu-won faction that had long oppressed Goryeo's politics.
The sky over the court remained gray,
but the direction of the age had already begun to move.
Politics moved quickly.
But that was their world.
What remained for Park Seong-jin was the quiet of daily life after returning home.
Having passed through battlefields where blood once flowed like rivers,
his days now began with sweeping fallen leaves from the yard.
Time was needed for the memories of war to settle.
This return was far calmer than the first.
He wondered if humans were creatures who survived by growing accustomed to cruelty.
A few days later, he visited Lord Wang Pil-sun's trading house.
Without that man's help, his present peace would not have been possible.
Failing to offer thanks would have been improper.
The trading house flourished even more than before.
Profits amassed through wartime supply had fueled its growth.
Scrap from the battlefield—broken weapons, armor, blood-stained cloth—had all become commodities again.
The war was over, yet its remnants still circulated.
"Greetings, sir."
"Oh, Seong-jin."
Wang Pil-sun smiled broadly.
Park Seong-jin bowed deeply.
Not being able to properly thank him during the campaign had weighed on him.
"My apologies for before."
"Enough. Now get some rest."
"I've done nothing but sleep for days."
"Then that's a relief."
"I haven't rested a single day."
They laughed together.
It was a laughter shared only by those who had passed through war.
"The trading house thrives. It's good to see."
"I never meant to become a merchant of war."
Wang Pil-sun shrugged.
"Everyone hopes I'm not truly such a man."
"Thanks to you, I returned safely."
"I did it to survive."
"And… any other news?"
"None yet, since demobilization."
He did not say that he had deliberately kept his distance.
Wang Pil-sun led him upstairs.
Below, laborers hauled cargo through the courtyard.
Hard lives continued on.
At that moment, Park Seong-jin realized
he could no longer fully return to such a life.
"I didn't know you were such a strong warrior."
"I'm still a beginner. I lack much."
"That isn't false modesty."
"One does not stand among elite warriors lightly."
"They are the soul of a nation."
Wang Pil-sun called the nameless troops "elite warriors."
"I've only just stepped onto the path."
"I merely stood beside my senior brother, now a Grand General."
"My skill is still far off."
"Turning connections into opportunity is not something anyone can do."
"I was fortunate."
They sat facing one another at a low table.
The scent of tea filled the room.
"What will you do now?"
Though something had ended, nothing was truly over.
The duty of living remained.
"I have no plans."
"After coming this far, can there truly be nothing next?"
"I've heard talk of entering official service."
"What did your senior say?"
"I haven't paid my respects yet. He must be busy."
Wang Pil-sun slowly turned his teacup.
"The waves of the world sweep everything away."
"Though rebellions in the Central Plains may seem distant, their ripples reach here—wearing different faces, striking more fiercely."
"When Yuan collapses, forces will rise to end its excesses. That is nothing to celebrate."
"This is an age of turmoil."
No matter how much he heard, it still felt distant.
Park Seong-jin gathered his thoughts.
"I will continue studying."
"I fought twice, yet I still feel lacking."
"If I had been stronger, many things would have been easier."
"I do not blame the world. I blame my own weakness."
Wang Pil-sun nodded.
"One who knows his weakness is already strong."
"Power comes after."
"You will become a master."
Silence settled in the room.
Only the scent of tea remained.
Outside, clear sunlight fell upon the roof tiles.
The war had ended,
but learning continued.
"Thank you once again."
As Park Seong-jin rose to leave, Wang Pil-sun presented 10 Pil (疋bolts) of silk.
He tried to refuse, but in the end, they were sent to his home.