BW C237

Chapter 237

It felt like a phrase he used to hear once every other day. Taemuk, Chilbok, even Byunguk had all said similar things before—telling him he wasn’t very aristocratic. But this time, it didn’t seem to be about that. When Hoeun looked at Dongja as if asking what she meant, she waved her hand as though telling him not to dwell on it and replied casually.

“I wasn’t hurt. Neither were the cooks.”

“Ah, that’s a relief.”

“But all the food inside burned.”

“The food?”

“Yeah.”

Hoeun stared at Dongja’s profile. The food burned. How much could that possibly mean? Yet he somehow felt uneasy. Whatever Dongja did, she always did on a grand scale.

“How much?”

“All of it.”

“…All the food for a thousand men?”

“Yep. All of it. Burned black.”

Dongja nodded confidently.

Hoeun fell silent.

“It happened right after we’d received fresh rations too. The stores were packed to the ceiling. All of it burned.”

“That’s awful…”

Hoeun sighed. In the military, provisions were a weapon stronger than cannons. Food sustained the soldiers’ morale and strength, allowing them to endure brutal battlefields. Some men enlisted just to eat. And she had burned all of that.

“…You must have gotten into serious trouble.”

“Oh, I got chewed out hard. Some of them looked at me like I was one of those damned Shikgoe.”

“….”

“We all starved until new supplies arrived.”

“That’s terrible…”

Hoeun sighed again, his heart aching for the starving soldiers. If only he had been there. If he had sold everything he had to buy food, maybe they could have eaten even one day sooner. Once again, he found himself blaming himself. If only he had awakened as an In sooner. This useless body of his.

He bit his lower lip and had just started criticizing himself again when Dongja suddenly shoved her face close to his.

“That’s what it means to be a burden, Do-ryeong.”

“…What?”

“You’ve gotta make a thousand people starve before you can call yourself a burden.”

“….”

“You getting nosebleeds or mouth sores alone? That’s not being a burden.”

“….”

“So stop hiding it whenever you’re sick.”

Hoeun stared at her silently. Dongja met his gaze, then flashed a wide grin before turning her head back toward the Yalu River Yalu River. Hoeun kept looking at her. His chest felt tight, almost hot.

What kind of fortune had blessed him with such good people?

Mansu, who had comforted him when he was anxious. Dongja, who had eased his guilt. And all the other soldiers, endlessly kind to him. He felt gratitude beyond words.

Hoeun inhaled deeply, then exhaled slowly.

“Thank you, noona.”

The pitch-black sky slowly took on the faint blue of dawn. The world, caught between night and day, felt strangely quiet—and Hoeun soon realized it wasn’t just his imagination.

The wind had died down. The river had calmed.

It seemed the water stored behind the dam had finally run out. The depth dropped noticeably, and the once-raging current slowed.

The Shikgoe noticed too. They stirred restlessly, writhing and shifting. Some spun in circles or tangled together in bizarre, incomprehensible movements.

Hoeun pressed his lips together anxiously. He had predicted the current would weaken around dawn, but seeing it happen made his heart sink.

Then, when the sun finally rose fully over the horizon—

Krrr…

Kieee…

The Shikgoe began wading into the river again.

Just like before, they started building a dam—using their bodies to block the current, forming walls, stacking layers. The method was the same, but this time they moved twice as fast. After being stalled for an entire day, they had clearly grown desperate.

Hoeun frowned slightly.

Desperate?

Why?

Why would they be desperate?

Before he could understand, the creatures accelerated, and soon the dam stretched halfway across the river.

KIEEEEEK!

Krrk, kkk, grrrrk!

They moved with perfect coordination. At this rate, they’d reach the opposite bank soon.

Then—

Shhhk. Shhshhshhk.

Over a hundred arrows flew.

They were Jeokudae’s arrows. The carefully aimed shots pierced directly through the heads of the creatures forming the dam.

Ghk…

Kik…

The struck creatures died instantly.

“Nice!”

Dongja clapped, grinning.

Hoeun clenched his fists. Now the dam would collapse. The current would sweep them away. They wouldn’t be able to invade.

That’s what he expected.

But the dam only swayed dangerously.

It didn’t collapse.

The Shikgoe hit by arrows were dead, yes—but their bodies didn’t disappear. Their corpses remained wedged in place as part of the dam itself.

The Shikgoe didn’t care whether their own kind died. They simply kept building. Whenever a dead body slipped loose, another creature immediately shoved itself into the gap.

Jeokudae fired several more volleys, but the results changed little.

The dam kept growing—longer, stronger, higher.

“This is bad…”

Hoeun muttered, narrowing his eyes.

Dongja clicked her tongue.

“Can’t be helped.”

“…Yeah. Can’t be helped.”

Hoeun nodded.

By then, Jeokudae had realized arrows were useless and stopped firing. Meanwhile, the Shikgoe built even faster. Some had already begun crossing, even though the dam wasn’t complete yet. They must have concluded Jeokudae no longer had ranged weapons capable of stopping them.

Below the mountain, Jeokudae soldiers lined up by the riverbank, each gripping their weapons. As always, Taemuk stood at the front.

It looked as though they were preparing for close combat.

But then several soldiers moved uphill instead.

At first glance, it almost looked like retreat.

But they stopped at the point where the mountainside began and pulled at something hidden there.

It was cloth.

The same cloth Hoeun and Chilbok had sewn earlier—covered in leaves and branches to conceal something.

Removing the massive covering took time.

Finally, with dirt and dust falling away, the hidden object was revealed.

It was enormous. Black as ink. Shaped like an oversized telescope.

A cannon.

Hoeun swallowed hard.

Along with guns, cannons were standard military weapons. Naturally, Jeokudae had them too. They simply never used them. There had never been a need.

Cannons were powerful, but massive and cumbersome. Without shells, they were useless. They required carts to move, broke down easily, and were difficult to maintain. Worse, they couldn’t distinguish friend from foe.

For Jeokudae—who preferred rough terrain, rapid movement, and brutal close combat—cannons were inefficient. Honestly, dropping Taemuk and Dongja straight into the middle of enemy lines would probably be more effective.

Still, they had kept a few for emergencies.

Three, to be exact.

One was broken.

That left only two usable cannons.

But two would be enough.

Their goal wasn’t to kill all 100,000 Shikgoe.

It was to stop them from crossing.

The soldiers rotated the cannons toward the Shikgoe. One loaded shells. Another prepared the firing mechanism.

Hoeun looked back at the river.

The dam was nearly complete.

The creatures already crossing had made it more than halfway.

Hurry… hurry… hurry…

Hoeun silently mouthed the words.

Beside him, Dongja stared at the cannons with blazing eyes. She looked ready to charge down and fire them herself if the soldiers took even a second longer.

Fortunately, preparations were complete.

One soldier raised his hand high and looked toward Taemuk.

Taemuk gave a slight nod.

BOOM!

BOOM!

Two deep, heavy blasts shook the mountain and river.

Smoke and dust exploded around the cannons.

Then—

KOOONG! KUGUGUNG!

The explosions hit.

KAAAAAK!

KIEEEEEK!

The shells struck the Shikgoe directly.

The explosion tore them apart.

Water shot upward like an inverted waterfall, while shredded monster bodies flew into the air before raining down.

The dam vanished completely.

Thanks to their incredibly tough skulls, more survived than died—but that didn’t matter. The dam had been destroyed. The attack had succeeded.

Better still, the violent surge of water swept the survivors away.

“Yes!”

Dongja slammed her fist into the ground and cheered.

Hoeun’s lips curled upward too.

He had worried, never having seen a cannon’s true power.

But now he realized there had been no reason to worry.

At this rate, they could stall them indefinitely.

No—

Perhaps Jeokudae, with only a thousand soldiers, might actually destroy all one hundred thousand Shikgoe.

Hoeun drew in a deep breath filled with fragile hope.