405.
The Fallen Gate — A Single, Breath-Held Moment.
The instant the gate opened halfway,
the air inside and outside collided, whipping up a violent wind.
Park Seong-jin shoved the crossbeam away one last time
and stepped half a pace aside beside the gate.
"It's open! The gate is open!!"
The roar that erupted outside tangled with the chaos within the city,
shaking the air itself.
Inside the gate, shield troops gathered their last strength and pushed back.
Through that narrow opening, the Goryeo Warrior Unit in ash-gray martial garb
was the first to drive in.
Song Yi-sul charged at the front.
"Seong-jin! Fall back!!"
About twenty warriors pierced straight through the gate gap in a single line.
They split into three directions.
Crushing the enemy blocking the inner courtyard, they carved out space.
Then the great host poured in behind them.
Ming troops packed tightly, trying to choke the entrance shut.
Goryeo warriors shoved and tore open gaps.
Through those gaps, soldiers surged like waves.
The left and right groups drove into the shield line's flanks, cutting through the waist.
The central group split open the spear formation's grain.
Those rushing in from the rear cut down archers who had been firing from afar.
The battle became point-blank.
So close that even the sound of blades colliding was swallowed whole.
"Block them! Hold the gate!"
A Ming officer's scream tore out.
At that moment, Song Yi-sul lifted his blade at a slant.
—Shhk.
From shoulder to waist, a single line split open.
A warrior following behind pressed a fingertip beneath another officer's jaw.
Thud.
Instant paralysis.
"Front secured!"
Song Yi-sul's voice rang through the alley.
The Warrior Unit swept the defensive line aside in an instant.
Soon Jin Yuliang's great army surged in.
"Push!! Drive them back!!"
Armor, spears, and shields slammed together as the gate trembled like a massive wave.
When a thousand men forced their way in at once,
the narrow street turned into a crush where backs pressed into backs.
The Ming troops fell back to the second internal defense line.
With the alley so narrow, retreat was slow.
As the rear was shoved, the front stumbled.
The defense line tore again and again.
"They're too fast! They got in first!!"
As the gate fully opened, Park Seong-jin slipped into the shadow beside it.
He did not look back.
"Hyung, take the front."
"Where are you going?!"
"I'm looking for the one in charge here. Zhu… something."
"Zhu Wenzheng! The nephew!"
The name itself was unimportant.
Whether the commander of Nanchang's defense
or the name of someone else's dog,
to his perception it carried the same grain.
He no longer seized on particulars—
he bound them together by flow.
Park Seong-jin drew a breath.
From deep within the city,
a heavy aura of command wavered.
There.
He flicked off the ground and lifted his body.
Stepping on eaves, vaulting over walls,
he shot toward the city's center like a single arrow.
The heart of Nanchang.
The broad road crossing the West and North Gates.
Zhu Wenzheng was establishing a second command post with his shield troops.
His armor was dusted thick with stone powder from bombardment.
His eyes were still alive.
"Hold."
"When Uncle arrives, this city will breathe again."
A subordinate shouted.
"General! The North Gate— the North Gate has been breached!"
Zhu Wenzheng's jaw tightened.
"From the bombardment?"
"No!"
"A single warrior broke in and opened the gate,
the Goryeo Warrior Unit forced their way in first and tore open a gap,
and thousands are pouring in behind them!"
Zhu Wenzheng muttered low.
"…The Warrior Unit."
At that moment, wind swept through the alley before the command post.
The air trembled lightly.
Soldiers' gazes turned all at once.
Out of the wind, Park Seong-jin walked forward.
His footsteps claimed the entire alley.
Zhu Wenzheng's hand moved to his sword hilt.
"So you're the Goryeo warrior from the rumors."
Park Seong-jin looked at him briefly, then spoke.
"I am Park Seong-jin, Captain of the Goryeo army.
It would be best if you surrendered—
but I doubt you will."
Zhu Wenzheng snorted.
"The one who opened the gate, huh.
Charging alone— you carry quite the air."
Park Seong-jin drew his blade.
The soldiers in the defensive ring held their breath.
"Let me ask you one thing.
Did you intend to hold Nanchang to the very end?"
"Yes.
Until my uncle's army arrives."
"Are you aware that army will arrive tonight?"
Zhu Wenzheng's pupils shook violently.
"That's why we hold."
Park Seong-jin shook his head.
"That army must arrive.
That is why we delayed the assault.
Your defense was precise— and fierce.
As a result, the Ming army will be drawn into the vast frame of Poyang Lake."
Zhu Wenzheng's eyes narrowed.
"A trap?"
"We seize this place just before the relief arrives."
Color drained from Zhu Wenzheng's face.
So holding had not been the right choice after all.
He drew his sword.
"That's an insult to the soldiers who died."
Park Seong-jin raised his own blade.
"Then, General."
"Let us settle the answer here."
The auras of the two collided at the city's center.
The guardian of Nanchang
and the warrior who bent the flow of war.
The air tightened, sharp as a blade.