BW C238

Chapter 238

The sky, still holding traces of sunset, began turning reddish again. Half a day had passed. During that time, the Shikgoe had built three more dams, and Jeokudae had fired the cannons six times. Every time the cannons fired, the Shikgoe were blown apart, shattered, and swept away.

Hoeun watched the creatures being carried downstream until his vision blurred. He squeezed his eyes shut. After staying awake for two straight nights, his eyes felt unbearably dry—like someone had stuffed a handful of sand beneath his eyelids.

As Hoeun pressed his fingers against his aching eyes, Dongja nudged his arm.

“Do-ryeong, you can sleep.”

“No, I’m fine.”

Hoeun replied immediately, opening his eyes wide as if he had never been tired at all.

Dongja stared at him.

She couldn’t understand why he insisted on staying awake. He wasn’t fighting with weapons himself. Their orders were simply to hide and stay put. Why force himself to stay awake?

Even so, Hoeun stubbornly kept his eyes open.

Then, at some point, his eyelids slipped shut.

He hadn’t meant to sleep. He only meant to rest his eyes for a moment.

But without even realizing it, Hoeun fell asleep completely. Two sleepless nights were simply too much for his frail body.

How much time passed?

Hoeun had curled forward so far that even his forehead rested on the ground, sleeping quietly.

Then—

“Fuck…”

Dongja’s foul curse jolted him awake.

At the same time, Hoeun realized with horror that he had fallen asleep.

The embarrassment hit him instantly.

If he hadn’t insisted earlier that he was fine, it wouldn’t have felt this humiliating. But now he had contradicted himself completely.

“I’m sorr—”

He began apologizing out of habit.

But Dongja wasn’t even looking at him.

Her eyes were fixed on the river, wide and sharp.

She had raised her upper body, one knee braced against the ground—like a beast preparing to pounce.

Hoeun frowned slightly.

Come to think of it, Dongja’s curse had woken him.

Something had happened.

He turned toward the river.

And the moment he saw it, his breath caught.

“What… is that…?”

The Shikgoe were building dams.

That alone wasn’t strange—they had done it before.

But there wasn’t just one dam.

Not two.

Three.

The Shikgoe were building three dams at the same time.

Hoeun hurriedly grabbed his telescope.

Below, Jeokudae had fallen into chaos. Soldiers shouted to one another, exchanging frantic glances. Some raised their bows and aimed before even waiting for Taemuk’s orders. The soldiers operating the cannons swung them back and forth, unable to decide which dam to target first.

Then everything descended into near-chaos.

One thing was clear: Jeokudae was doing everything possible to stop all three dams.

They fired cannons at the first dam.

Arrows at the second.

Then whenever one collapsed, they scrambled to deal with the third.

Thankfully, all three dams were destroyed.

The Shikgoe shrieked as they were swept away once more.

But before anyone could breathe in relief—

The Shikgoe began building five dams at once.

With multiple dams rising simultaneously, the current weakened as each structure blocked part of the flow. That made building easier.

Faster.

“Ah…”

Hoeun understood immediately.

They could no longer stop them.

Taemuk stared at the five dams forming and let out a hollow laugh.

“Ha…”

Even seeing thousands of Shikgoe diving into the river with his own eyes, it was hard to believe.

He had never anticipated this strategy.

Jeokudae had a thousand soldiers, yes—but not enough to casually throw away lives like this. They had never once considered tactics involving this level of expendable sacrifice.

That’s why he was shaken.

No—

Afraid.

It was a feeling he hadn’t felt in years.

Perhaps not since he was ten, when Shikgoe had been tearing into his body.

Ever since learning to control his power, Shikgoe had been disgusting.

Never frightening.

“C-Captain… what… what do we do?”

A nearby soldier asked, voice trembling.

“Where’s Oh Gilsang?”

Taemuk asked without taking his eyes off the enemy.

The soldier glanced behind them.

The sky beyond the mountains remained empty.

No signal kite.

Not even a bird.

No one had arrived.

“Still nothing.”

Taemuk flexed his fingers as he thought.

Even with him here—even with Jeokudae’s elite soldiers—it was impossible to defeat 100,000 Shikgoe in direct battle.

Retreat was the logical answer.

But retreat wasn’t possible.

If they retreated, everyone would die.

This nation would fall.

So they had to endure.

No matter what.

Taemuk inhaled sharply.

Then he gave orders at once.

“The cannons target the first dam. Archers target the third.”

“Yes.”

“And tell everyone else to build the defensive line at the base of the mountain.”

“The defensive line?”

“Yes. Avoid close combat as much as possible. We’ll fight behind the barricades with bows.”

“Yes, sir!”

The soldier sprinted off, shouting commands.

Immediately, all soldiers except the archers rushed uphill.

They were retrieving hidden defensive equipment.

Soon—

BOOM! BOOM!

The cannons fired.

Shhshhshhk.

Arrows followed.

Taemuk narrowed his eyes.

If the first dam exploded, the shockwave might create violent enough currents to disrupt the others.

The attacks landed perfectly.

The first dam collapsed instantly.

The second dam swayed violently from the blast and broke apart.

The third held briefly under the arrows—but collapsed under the next volley.

The fourth and fifth dams continued rising quickly.

The Shikgoe drew closer.

Their screeches filled the air.

Their foul, metallic scent reached Taemuk.

And just before they reached land—

BOOM! BOOM!

The cannons fired again.

This time, the blasts smashed into the fourth and fifth dams.

They collapsed.

All five dams were destroyed.

But neither Taemuk nor his soldiers celebrated.

Taemuk clenched his jaw.

This was only buying time.

Nothing more.

They had stopped five dams this time.

Next time, there would be ten.

The Shikgoe would eventually set foot on this land.

Our land.

Taemuk stared at the enemy across the river.

The creatures hopped in place furiously like enraged grasshoppers.

Over two days of fighting, they had killed many Shikgoe.

But even generously, maybe five thousand.

That still left nearly one hundred thousand.

How could they stop them?

How could they kill that many?

No matter how much he thought, nothing came to mind.

No clever tactic would solve this.

The enemy’s numbers were simply too overwhelming.

And then—

The Shikgoe began building again.

Just as expected.

This time—

Ten dams.

From afar, it looked less like dam-building and more like they were trying to fill the river entirely with their bodies.

Taemuk tilted his head slightly.

Then straightened.

His eyes had turned darker than ever.

Burning black.

Just then, a soldier ran to him.

“Captain! Defensive line complete!”

Taemuk glanced behind him.

At the base of the slope leading to the mountain, thick stakes had been planted in even intervals. Between them hung iron mesh. Behind that were rows of anti-cavalry barriers—three long spears nailed together in water-pattern formations.

This was Jeokudae’s standard defensive wall whenever they camped on open plains.

Farther back stood two cannons, while soldiers distributed bows and arrows.

And even farther—higher up the mountain—he could faintly make out concealed tents hidden under leaves and branches.

Inside were Hoeun, the wounded soldiers, Chilbok, the old men, and the others.

Taemuk stared at them for a moment.

Then nodded.

Good enough.

He turned back and gave another order.

“Bring me a sword. A thick one.”

“A sword? What are you going to use a sword fo—”

“Now.”

“Y-Yes!”

The soldier ran.

Behind him, cannons and arrows fired again.

Explosions thundered.

The ground shook.

Water surged.

Shikgoe screamed like pigs being slaughtered.

The same cycle repeated.

Many dams collapsed.

Many survived.

By now, the river had become clogged with so many Shikgoe corpses that even the current itself struggled to find its path.

Soon the soldier returned carrying a sword nearly as large as his own body.

Taemuk took it.

Then casually threw aside the sheath.

He swung the sword once with his right hand.

Then with his left.

The blade was thick and broad—almost more like an axe than a sword.

Heavy.

But solid.

Durable.

At least with this, Taemuk could swing with full force without worrying about it snapping in half.