Warlord Han Yegum
Select the paragraph where you stopped reading
Chapter 4 Table of contents

Makjeong jolted awake on the blood-stained straw mat, covered by a ragged blanket, as the vibrations of hurried footsteps and the sound of men pounding the ground filled the air.

‘What the hell? Are we under attack?!’

Startled, Makjeong grabbed his spear and sprang to his feet. Fortunately, the chaotic movement inside the palisade came from his fellow soldiers, not enemies.

The eastern horizon hadn’t even begun to brighten, yet the soldiers were already up and moving around unnecessarily. It turned out that the bone-chilling cold of dawn had woken them up against their will.

“Damn it’s freezing—I’m gonna die here…!”

Gaesang’s large frame shivered as he grumbled, and only then did Makjeong realize just how cold it had gotten. He pulled the ragged blanket tighter over himself and lay back down. Half of the squad had already risen and were shaking off the cold with restless movements.

The soldiers murmured among themselves, some glancing beyond the palisade toward the still-dark eastern ridge. With more men keeping watch than usual, the burden on the sentries momentarily eased.

Eventually, Makjeong gave up on sleep entirely, his eyes opening as he took in the inside of the palisade.

It was his first morning on the battlefield. Yesterday had been quiet, but there was no telling what today would bring. For all he knew, this could be the day he died, skewered by an enemy spear.

‘Please… let them hold off attacking today. Just a few more days… please…’

Makjeong prayed desperately.

Surely, every soldier here was hoping for the same thing.

Still, Makjeong couldn’t afford to remain unprepared. This was a place where an attack could come at any moment. Even if his body hadn’t fully recovered, he couldn’t let his mind stay vulnerable.

‘If they do attack… yeah! I’ll show them the skills my master beat into me! He pummeled me so hard that even other swordsmen worried about whether it was too much. If he was right, there’s no way I’ll die here.’

Makjeong was confident in taking down ordinary soldiers, even if his physical condition wasn’t ideal. The only problem was that there wouldn’t be just one enemy to face.

‘But if I do die… then it’s my master’s fault for teaching me poorly. I’ll go to the afterlife and confront him about it. I’ll demand to know why he hit me so much if this was the best he could teach me.’

The thought of arguing with his strict and terrifying master after death made Makjeong chuckle despite himself.

Pfft.

Maybe it was true that mindset was everything. Reframing his thoughts seemed to ease the tension and fear gripping him.

‘Fine. If they’re coming, then let them come! Until I desert this place, I’ll fight those bastards with everything I’ve got! No matter what… even so… this is still the country my father fought so hard to protect…’

It felt strange.

He’d thought he’d let go of all attachment to this nation, his heart frozen with betrayal and bitterness. Yet, in this moment, memories of his father—the man who had spent his life fighting for U Kingdom—came flooding back.

‘But Father… am I really supposed to fight for this country?’

If his father were here, Makjeong wanted to ask.

Was it right for him to risk his life to defend U Kingdom against the Shang army—the same country that betrayed his father and slaughtered his family?

His father, more than anyone, had died an unjust and bitter death. Would he really want Makjeong to fight for the very nation that destroyed him?

Makjeong wanted to hear his father’s answer.

But his father was gone, and that answer would never come.

‘I don’t know. If I want to stay alive, I have to fight. If I survive, I can run to Shang or take revenge on U Kingdom later. Damn it…!’

Makjeong threw off the ragged blanket and stood up.

Beyond the eastern ridge, a faint crimson glow began to creep across the sky.

*****

As the sun rose and time passed, a bell rang from below the mountain, signaling that breakfast was ready. Squads began descending the defensive line in order, forming lines to eat.

The soldiers, chilled from the dawn, quickly finished their meals.

Gathering in groups, they ate to warm their stiffened bodies. Even simple rations were crucial—without them, the soldiers wouldn’t have the strength to fight properly.

And if they missed both meals for the day, it was clear that more would lose their will to fight and retreat when facing the enemy.

Once the meal ended, squads gathered under the officers’ command to begin military training. The drills focused on basic spear techniques for new recruits and defensive strategies for holding the line.

Most of the new conscripts had experience handling farm tools but had never held real weapons, so the spear training emphasized the basics—thrusting, deflecting, and blocking.

The seasoned soldiers moved naturally, their bodies accustomed to the drills, but the new recruits’ movements were awkward and clumsy.

Among them, however, Gaesang and Yeopchi stood out. Their movements were sharp, and their strikes carried precision and strength, revealing they were no ordinary men.

Makjeong, on the other hand, moved just enough to avoid attention. Despite having trained rigorously under Master Jangjo and other martial artists since childhood, he had no desire to stand out.

His goal was to desert safely and flee deep into Shang territory. Showing off his skills here might draw unnecessary attention and make his escape harder. Of course, if an actual battle broke out, he’d fight with everything he had to survive.

“Thrust!”

“Ahh—!”

Makjeong drove his spear forward with a show of effort, though he held back. The weapon felt heavier than it should in his hands.

‘I’m still far from recovering…’

He could tell from the weight in his grip just how much his body had weakened. Back when he was training intensely, he could swing heavier spears in all directions, showing off intricate techniques.

“Twist and pull—!”

Chak!

Moving in sync with the others, Makjeong felt his body warming up and his mind clearing. It seemed like this was how each day would start here.

‘But what if I get hungry too fast?’

With only two meals a day, he worried about using too much energy so early.

After the spear drills, the training shifted to defensive strategies using the palisade.

Makjeong and the new recruits practiced solo combat techniques and team coordination. They also learned how to handle emergencies during enemy attacks.

When morning training ended, the soldiers sat inside the palisade, inspecting their weapons and armor. From now until the enemy appeared, they had time to prepare in squads.

“Hey… you think those bastards are coming to die again today?”

Madal, his face smeared with oil and dirt, muttered as he sharpened his axe. Like him, every soldier stationed at Blaze Ridge looked worn out.

Water was scarce in camp. Each squad had a wooden barrel for drinking water, but it wasn’t enough for washing faces.

Madal claimed that during the last battle, he had killed four Shang soldiers with his axe—splitting the heads of those trying to climb over the palisade. The others who had fought alongside him confirmed it.

His axe, its blade as long as a man’s palm, already had two chipped edges.

Whether the damage came from battle or chores, only Madal knew. Still, the weapon looked more than capable of splitting bodies apart.

“After one day of fighting, we should get two days of rest. Those bastards climbing the mountain must be having a harder time than us, don’t you think?”

Madal grinned, showing yellowed teeth. Only a couple of soldiers returned the smile.

Most were too anxious to laugh.

Fear. Unease.

How many here wouldn’t turn and run down the mountain right now if given the chance?

“Hey, Makjeong.”

“Yes.”

Madal plopped onto the dirt and called out to him. Makjeong was tying up his spearhead with a string he had scavenged from a corpse.

“Ever killed anyone before?”

Of course, he hadn’t. Makjeong gave Madal a sideways glance as if to ask why he’d even bother asking.

“I guess I’ll kill someone if we fight.”

“Hah, look at this kid—what, you think you’re ready?”

Madal wasn’t asking out of boredom.

After spending so long on the battlefield, he’d developed an instinct for reading people—their personalities, how they’d react under pressure, and whether they’d survive or die.

Gaesang and Yeopchi clearly weren’t the type to die easily. Others, however, looked like they wouldn’t even survive their first battle.

But Makjeong was different.

His words, movements, and even the sharpness in his gaze set him apart.

Madal had heard that Makjeong had survived in the mountains alone before being captured, but his gut told him the kid was no ordinary conscript.

“If I don’t kill, I’ll die. So yeah, I’ll do it.”

“Oh—”

“Damn, the kid’s got guts!”

Chobak and Mukjin, who were listening, burst into laughter.

Madal, too, grew more interested in Makjeong.

It was just a hunch for now, but he had a feeling this kid would surprise him.

“Hey, kid. Come stand next to me.”

Makjeong looked over at him.

“That spear of yours is full of openings when they start climbing over the palisade. I’ll smash their heads with this axe, so you stick by my side and stab anything that pops up over the wall.”

It seemed Madal was trying to protect him. But Makjeong already felt more comfortable sticking with Gaesang and Yeopchi. They’d been together since conscription, and their skills seemed reliable.

“I’ll fight here with my brothers first. If they die before me, then I’ll move over to you.”

“Puhaha!”

“Haha! Snrk!”

“Damn, kid! You’re saying we’ll die first? Listen here, you’re the one most likely to die first!”

“Or maybe I’ll be the last one standing.”

Makjeong’s bold words made the entire squad laugh.

Even Nam Pae and Madal, who rarely laughed, burst into chuckles.

In the tense atmosphere where enemies could appear at any moment, Makjeong’s fearless attitude gave the squad a brief moment of relief.

*****

The sun, once high in the sky, began its descent toward the west. As noon passed without any signs of enemy movement, a faint hope spread among the U Kingdom soldiers that there might be no battle today. After all, the Shang forces had always attacked in the morning until now.

In Makjeong’s squad, Nam Pae stretched his neck, peering over the palisade toward the eastern mountains, and muttered:

“Yeah, just take the day off, will you? Wouldn’t it be great if both sides just kept resting like this until the war’s over? Heh, heh, heh—let’s keep this up till the end.”

“Phew—looks like they’re not coming today. Should I just lie down and catch some sleep before they give us some pointless orders again?”

Madal echoed the sentiment, dragging himself toward the sleeping quarters where the soldiers rested. With their bodies loosened up, the cold receding, and no sign of the enemy, it seemed like a perfect time to grab a nap.

However…

“Attention, everyone! Palisade repairs will begin shortly! Squad leaders, report to the command tent immediately!”

The booming voice of the officer shattered their momentary peace. Nam Pae and Madal immediately cursed.

“Damn it—can’t we have just one peaceful day? Damn bastards! I’ll go down there. Get the tools ready. Damn it—ptooey!”

“Son of a bitch… Don’t they know we need rest to fight properly? Huh? Don’t they?!”

But the battlefield never let soldiers rest idly. Every spare moment had to be spent preparing for the worst.

By the afternoon, work began on strengthening the palisade across the entire defensive line.

Ropes and vines were tied tightly to keep the structure from collapsing, wooden stakes as thick as fingers were hammered in, and the inside of the palisade was reinforced by piling more dirt and stamping it down to create higher ground.

The raised platform would make it easier to defend and attack enemies more effectively.

As the youngest in the squad, Makjeong carried piles of dirt nonstop, while the more experienced soldiers focused on securing the palisade and stomping down the soil to make it firm.

Sweat poured down Makjeong’s face, and hunger gnawed at him, but he welcomed the hard labor. It kept his mind off darker thoughts as he endured his second day in the war zone.

Write comment...
Settings
Themes
Font Size
18
Line Height
1.3
Indent between paragraphs
19
Chapters
Loading...