Warlord Han Yegum

It was long past sunset when the corpses closest to the palisade were finally cleared away.

The remaining bodies would be moved and buried the next day. Makjeong felt so exhausted from the continuous labor that he doubted he’d be able to fight even if the enemy returned tomorrow.

As a small consolation for their late-night toil, the soldiers were given a rare treat: a late-night snack. Each soldier received a fist-sized rice ball, which they ate before washing their faces and bodies with water stored in wooden barrels.

Their bodies were caked with sweat and blood, fitting the description of "utterly ragged." However, with their numbers halved, there was just enough water left to allow them to clean themselves, albeit roughly.

After washing up, they gathered in a circle under the light of the moon, which had risen unnoticed.

Even after such a fierce battle where so many lives were lost, the moon remained the same as it had been the night before—unchanging, indifferent.

The soldiers sat silently, fiddling with the items they had scavenged from the enemy’s corpses earlier. Finally, Squad Leader Nam Pae broke the silence.

“Everyone, you did well today. It’s impressive—you all survived.”

“Yes…”

“You too, Squad Leader.”

“I barely made it out alive.”

“Same here. It’s only because I’m me that I’m still breathing.”

At Nam Pae’s words, the soldiers chuckled one by one. It seemed they finally had enough mental space to share such lighthearted remarks. Nam Pae, fiddling with a straw sticking out of a tattered mat, spoke his true feelings.

“You know… I didn’t expect you guys to hold out as well as you did. Honestly… When they breached the palisade earlier and I told everyone to fall back, I thought we were all going to die. Truth be told, even now, it feels surreal that we’re sitting here, alive and chatting.”

“Pfft.”

“Ha!”

The soldiers’ yellowed teeth gleamed under the moonlight, and among them, Madal’s stood out as he chimed in.

“Wow—earlier, I saw you sprinting down like your life depended on it, Squad Leader. You weren’t trying to run away, were you?”

“Pfft!”

“Honestly? I was. But when I got down there, everything was such a mess, with people tangled up everywhere, blocking the way! Damn it, what else could I do? The path was blocked, so I had no choice but to fight for my life! Hahaha.”

“Damn, and here I thought you were fighting valiantly on your own. I went at it with everything I had, even breaking my axe in the process. Turns out I had the wrong idea, huh?”

“Ha ha ha!”

“Heh heh heh!”

Their laughter grew louder.

“Madal, I know you well. That axe of yours—seriously, earlier I thought you were chopping firewood. Everyone else was fighting for their lives, and there you were, splitting logs! Chop—crack! Split clean in two.”@@novelbin@@

“When I focus on a fight, every enemy’s head just looks like a log to me. I can’t help but split them all. Though, for a moment, your face looked like one too, Squad Leader. That was close. Why do you have to look like that…?”

“Ha! Why didn’t you just chop me then?”

“Come on—I don’t want to be Squad Leader. Heh.”

“Listen, being Squad Leader isn’t just about fighting skills. You’ve got to have the looks for it, too. Who’s going to follow an ugly Squad Leader? Not a chance. Honestly, Madal, even if you were reborn, leadership wouldn’t suit you. Maybe you’d make a good lone wolf. Heh heh!”

“Ha! I swear, your face looked like one of those rotten logs you find in a damp mountain hollow. If it weren’t for your black hair, I’d have split you open for sure—”

“I’m not cutting my hair anymore.”

Nam Pae and Madal got along like a house on fire. Sharing life-and-death experiences seemed to forge such bonds.

“Chobak and Mukjin, though—they shot well today. Really, no complaints there. Every shot hit. I didn’t see a single miss.”

Nam Pae mimicked drawing a bowstring, causing Chobak and Mukjin to burst into laughter. Madal added his own comment.

“Yeah, I saw them too. Looked like they were debating whether to shoot you in the back of the head, Squad Leader.”

“Next time, aim for Madal’s mouth first, all right? I won’t hold it against you. And Gaesang—damn, Gaesang, you were incredible. Stretch out your arm, and it’s like plunging a stick into a pile of dung—you pierced right through! Amazing work!”

Nam Pae’s exaggerated gestures had everyone roaring with laughter.

“Pfft!”

“Ha ha ha!”

Gaesang scratched the back of his head, looking sheepish.

“That? That was nothing. Heh.”

“If that’s ‘nothing,’ I can’t wait to see what ‘something’ looks like. Madal, if you ever get constipated, ask Gaesang to poke through with his spear. He’ll clear you right out. Heh heh.”

Nam Pae turned his attention to Yeopchi.

“Yeopchi—man, I can’t fight near you. You’re scarier than Madal. Seriously, I thought my head would roll off my shoulders if I stayed too close. Pfft!”

“Ha ha ha!”

“Every time I heard a swish, someone went down. Another slice—down goes another. I swear, that sound freaked me out more than anything. Yeopchi, you weren’t making those sounds with your mouth, were you?”

Nam Pae nodded at Yeopchi, acknowledging his skills.

“Not at all. Heh.”

Yeopchi just nodded once and smiled faintly, staying true to his quiet nature.

“And honestly, the biggest surprise today…”

Nam Pae’s gaze shifted to Makjeong, and the others followed. Feeling self-conscious, Makjeong pretended to fiddle with his sword.

“Makjeong—you were amazing.”

“Right. He was fearless. At first, I thought, ‘He’s holding his own,’ but then he rushed down with his sword—wow.”

“You saw that? I thought his eyes were spinning.”

“They were. Three times around, at least.”

Nam Pae and Madal genuinely seemed impressed by Makjeong’s performance, despite their exaggerated and humorous remarks. Gaesang and Yeopchi nodded in agreement.

“Makjeong, have you ever trained with a sword before?” Yeopchi asked, clearly curious.

Makjeong froze. He had to be a simple slash-and-burn farmer, nothing more.

“No… Just played around with friends when I was a kid. Never thought it’d come in handy, but here we are.”

He dodged the question, hoping they wouldn’t dig deeper. Thankfully, no one pressed him. After all, they likely had their own secrets.

“This is why what you do as a kid matters. Madal here probably spent his time chopping wood for no reason. Tsk tsk.”

“Squad Leader, something’s wrong with me. The moonlight feels dimmer tonight. Your face keeps looking like a log again.”

When Madal raised his axe, the circle erupted into laughter once more.

*****

Night

Amidst the sounds of his squadmates snoring, Makjeong lay awake, unable to sleep. He had assumed he’d pass out immediately, but contrary to expectations, sleep eluded him.

“……”

Staring at the logs covering the space above him, Makjeong sank into thought.

After such an intense battle, tonight’s vigilance might be lax. Before a battle or during an escape, soldiers might flee, but after the fighting was done, no one would think to run.

The sentries themselves were likely exhausted, making this the perfect time to slip away.

And yet, strangely, the thought of fleeing to the Shang Kingdom didn’t cross his mind. Even earlier, when facing the enemy, he had regretted not running.

Makjeong turned onto his side, pulling his straw mat up over his head.

The feeling was strange.

Perhaps you could call it unease. After barely surviving such a fierce battle, he had expected to feel relieved, to fall asleep with a light heart. But instead, he felt hollow and conflicted.

Was it because he had lost some of his squadmates?

Or because, for the first time, he had taken lives with his own hands?

If not that, then what?

“……”

Closing his eyes and sinking into the darkness, the nightmare of that day resurfaced.

The shocking news that his father, who had gone to the palace, had been falsely accused of treason. The soldiers who stormed in soon after. The deaths of his family and the martial artists, led by Instructor Jangjo, who had sacrificed their lives to protect him.

And… his old friend and servant, Makjeong, who had given his life in his stead.

When he thought of them, it felt inevitable that he should flee this place and make his way to the Shang Kingdom.

Once there, he could either live a quiet life or bide his time, growing stronger to take revenge on U Kingdom.

But the fact that he had fought for U Kingdom today, risking his life to protect it, seemed to anchor both his body and heart.

The country that had killed his father.

But also the country his father had so desperately tried to protect.

His thoughts swirled.

His resentment and hatred for U Kingdom whispered for him to seize the opportunity to escape. But every time, the faces of Gaesang, Madal, and Yeopchi—who had saved his life today—rose in his mind.

The sense of relief and solidarity he had felt while fighting alongside them weighed even heavier on his chest.

His squadmates. The ones who had fought with him, leaned on him, and supported him. They had shared joy at surviving and had reassured him with their humor and camaraderie.

All of them were U Kingdom people, the same people his father had spent decades protecting.

Would it really be right to betray them and flee to the enemy, the Shang Kingdom?

It felt as though some unseen force was holding him back, preventing him from leaving. What was it? This peculiar emotion?

‘If Father could see me, what would he say…?’

If only his father could give him a single word of advice, Makjeong felt he could make a decision without hesitation.

Restless, Makjeong pulled down the straw mat and stared at the wooden ceiling. Moonlight filtered softly through the gaps between the logs.

Prrt.

The sound of someone farting broke the quiet, mingling with the chorus of snores.

Makjeong tossed and turned a few more times before eventually drifting off into a silent sleep.