BW C242

Chapter 242

Unable to voice his worries aloud, Hoeun could only sigh again and again. Mansu let out a chuckle and said, “Well, a few units led by stuck-up noble bastards might ignore the call.”

Hoeun looked at him in surprise. It was unsettling and strange how Mansu seemed to read his thoughts. But Mansu simply kept smiling as he continued, “Still, the uibyeong[5] will come no matter what. Some already have, haven’t they?”

“…”

“You see? No matter how much this country treats people like us as lowborn, when the country is truly in danger, the ones who step up are always the common people. Always has been. Always.”

“The common people…”

Hoeun murmured those words to himself.

Yes. Mansu beside him, Dongja ahead of him, the soldiers rushing toward them, and Taemuk too—they were all people of this nation.

The very people who had protected the country countless times throughout history were once again running toward death to save it.

Then perhaps, just as history had shown again and again, the people would save the country this time too.

Maybe… they really could win.

As Hoeun stared blankly at the incoming reinforcements, Dongja suddenly spoke with the bright morning sun at her back.

“So what do we do now?”

Everyone turned toward her.

Scratching her temple with the sharpened edge of her spear, she muttered to herself, “Hmm… can we go back now?”

Hoeun stepped closer and asked, “The General ordered a retreat only if Sergeant Oh failed to return, correct?”

“Yep.”

“Then since he has returned, shouldn’t the retreat be canceled?”

“Hmm… then should we go back? Can we? No—yeah. We should go back! Going back is the right call!”

Dongja slammed her spear into the ground and shouted.

“Yeah, let’s go back!”

Mansu shouted right after her.

The others nearby nodded too.

“I think going back’s right too.”

“It’s morning already. The boys need food. Maybe instead of rice balls, we should bring hot soup and rice.”

“Exactly. You fight better with a full stomach. Let’s make meat soup. Use up all the remaining meat.”

“There might be even more wounded now.”

“We should build more tents for the wounded first. Did we bring all the medicine?”

“They seemed short on arrows too. Shouldn’t we make more?”

“First, let’s tell them reinforcements have arrived!”

The murmuring group all turned around at once.

Then they began heading back the way they came, walking quickly, even jumping at times.

They were returning to a battlefield crawling with Shikgoe.

And strangely enough—

Every step felt light.

17. The Bloodstained Yet Beautiful Azaleas

Hoeun, Dongja, Mansu, and the others returned to the front of the mountain with renewed hope.

But the moment they looked down—

Everyone froze as if struck by lightning.

“…”

“…”

Not a single drop of rain had fallen since last night.

And yet the area below looked as if a torrential storm had drenched it.

Not just any rain.

It looked as though red rain had poured down.

Jeokudae had always fought on battlefields that looked like Jeokudae itself—as if red rain had fallen over them.

But this…

This was beyond anything before.

The wide plain between the river and the mountain had once been reddish earth with patches of green grass.

Now—

Everything was red.

Not just the ground.

The trees and rocks jutting upward were red too.

Drops of blood dripped from the leaves.

Blood streamed down the rocks.

The defensive barriers Jeokudae had built were covered in Shikgoe, skewered like meat or hanging like laundry.

Among them were things that looked horrifyingly human.

Below that, soldiers and Shikgoe were tangled together.

No—

That wasn’t right.

It wasn’t “tangled.”

The soldiers were being buried under Shikgoe.

“Haaah…”

“Aaaah…”

When they had left, soldiers’ screams still rang loudly.

Now all that remained were cries and sobbing.

And yet—

Not a single person ran.

Everyone kept fighting.

Even with shoulders being chewed apart.

Even with arms being torn off.

They kept swinging their weapons.

When a Shikgoe sank its teeth or claws into a comrade and dragged him away, others grabbed hold and resisted.

Sometimes they were dragged away together.

Then they vanished beneath the swarm.

All that remained was blood pouring down around the Shikgoe’s feet.

Hoeun stared numbly.

Then slowly turned his gaze toward the Amnok River.

The once vast river was now filled with Shikgoe.

It looked as though the river itself was overflowing with monsters.

They poured in fiercely.

As if desperate, they shoved and struck even their own kind just to be first to set foot on land.

It didn’t seem like they saw this as war.

Or battle.

To them, this was probably just hunting.

Or feeding.

“Ah…”

Hoeun lowered his head, unable to keep watching.

The sight was too horrific.

Too brutal.

His chest felt crushed.

He thought he might vomit.

Something sour rose up from deep in his throat.

The soldiers beside him looked no different.

Everyone stood frozen, staring blankly at the horror below.

Then—

“Get down there! Move! Bring back the injured!”

The old man roared.

The soldiers snapped back to themselves and immediately sprinted downhill.

Hoeun moved to follow—

But before he could take a single step, someone grabbed his elbow.

“Young Master, no.”

It was Dongja.

Her face was cold and hard as stone as she shook her head.

Mansu, standing beside her, silently signaled him to stop too.

“…”

Hoeun stopped without protest.

Because he knew.

There was nothing he could do down there.

He couldn’t carry anyone.

Couldn’t fight.

At best he’d only stand around helplessly.

It was better to remain here than become a burden.

So Hoeun stood still.

But his eyes moved frantically.

Searching.

For Taemuk.

He believed Taemuk was alive.

But he felt uneasy.

He had to see him.

Even if he was drenched in blood.

Even if limbs were torn apart.

As long as Taemuk’s eyes were open—

That alone would ease his mind.

But strangely—

He couldn’t find him.

Taemuk’s overwhelming presence always made him stand out instantly no matter where he was.

So why couldn’t he see him now?

Was he surrounded by Shikgoe again?

Yes.

By now the monsters must have realized Taemuk was their leader.

They were probably attacking him obsessively again.

Find the twisted mass of Shikgoe.

Taemuk must be inside it.

Hoeun searched the battlefield without even blinking.

But there were too many tangled clusters of monsters.

He couldn’t find him.

“Noona. Hyung… can you see where the General is?”

Hoeun asked, voice trembling.

“No.”

Dongja answered immediately.

“…”

Mansu silently shook his head too.

Hoeun grabbed onto a tree with one hand, rose onto his toes, and craned his neck desperately.

Still nothing.

Meanwhile, wounded soldiers began arriving one after another.

Limbs torn apart.

Bodies mangled.

Soon the ground became slick with blood.

The camp became a frenzy.

Soldiers hurried everywhere.

Setting up tents.

Boiling water.

Gathering kindling.

Making arrows.

At this point, camouflage and ambush no longer mattered.

“Bring clean cloth!”

“Set up the tents! Bigger!”

“Blood! Everyone get over here and draw blood! Cooks too!”

Shouts erupted from every direction.

Still fixated on finding Taemuk, Hoeun suddenly snapped back to himself.

Then—

He slapped both cheeks hard.

Smack.

Startled, Mansu shouted, “Young Master!”

But Hoeun ignored him.

Get yourself together.

Taemuk would be fine.

Even if Hoeun worried himself sick, Taemuk would still survive.

He always had.

Right now—

Do what you can.

Standing here uselessly helped no one.

Not Taemuk.

Not Jeokudae.

I need to find my own usefulness.

Hoeun took a deep breath.

Then turned to Dongja.

“I want to help treat the wounded. Will you come with me?”

“…”

“I’ll only help with simple tasks. Nothing dangerous.”

Dongja hesitated.

She glanced around.

Then down at the battlefield swarming with Shikgoe like cockroaches.

At that moment, a wounded soldier missing much of his left arm—just like Mansu once had been—was carried past.

Dongja’s gaze followed him as if hypnotized.

Then she looked back at Hoeun.

“Alright. Let’s go, Young Master. I need to donate a bowl of blood too.”

With her permission, Hoeun rolled up his sleeves and ran toward the medical tent.

The medical tent was beyond capacity.

There were so many wounded that even cramming them tightly together left arms and legs sticking outside.

Eventually they had to lay the wounded directly on bare ground.

With no beds.

No partitions.

Several soldiers writhing in pain rolled downhill.

Others rushed to carry them back.

Hoeun hurried across the blood-soaked ground carrying a brass bowl filled with water.

He stopped in front of a wounded soldier and dropped to his knees.

The ground beneath him was filthy—mud, blood, and unidentifiable filth all mixed together.

But not even for a moment did Hoeun hesitate.

Not even for a second.

[5] Uibyeong (의병): Civilian militias voluntarily formed by common people to resist foreign invasions or defend national sovereignty during times of crisis.