553.
"Hurry up and clear it.
What if the main force catches wind and decides not to come down?"
The moment Park Seong-jin's short, razor-edged order fell, the Muin unit moved all at once.
No explanation was needed now.
They were going to strike the enemy's main force here.
They seized one still breathing and interrogated him—
when the main force would arrive, from which direction.
The corpses strewn across the deck were shoved overboard into the sea,
and the enemy soldiers dragged in the hold were pulled out one by one and hidden between the rocks along the shore.
They even threw sand over the blood, burying it so it wouldn't spread.
Fast enough to make breath turn hard and clipped,
and precise.
Park Seong-jin looked up at the flag atop the enemy ship.
A peculiar symbol—three dots set into a red circular crest.
The Three-Dot Crest (三點紋).
It didn't look like the mark of some respectable house,
nor like the crude sign of a pirate chief.
A crest meant they were a house with territory.
To them, it was pride—identity.
"With this flag… a large force will follow."
Song Yi-jeong, beside him, lifted his eyes.
"Then what will you do?"
Park Seong-jin answered at once.
"Lure them. Wait until they land, then cut them all down."
"Loyalty."
Park Seong-jin pointed toward the empty fishing village and issued rapid instructions.
The Muin unit scattered without a word.
In less than an hour,
the abandoned shore village was dressed up like a living village.
Empty rice sacks were left out like traces of daily life.
Bundles of straw were stacked in three long rows—
from afar, it looked like sheaves set out to dry,
like winter stores at a farmhouse.
Even the trace of a cauldron and a mound of ash disguised as kitchen refuse—
they built the feeling that people had been here moments ago.
They lit fires in empty hearths,
so smoke would rise as if someone were cooking rice.
That smoke, oddly enough, made even their own men's hearts feel unsettled.
The soldiers dug into concealment.
One lay under a camouflage screen of twisted rope.
One pressed himself into the side-wall gap of a roofless ruin.
Others flattened themselves on rooftops, waiting for the waegu to approach.
The cavalry formation withdrew hundreds of paces and hid behind low hills.
"They retreat the moment they see a hole to run through.
Erase the direction they can flee."
They used the crescent-shaped coastline itself.
Small boats abandoned in the harbor were all flipped over to block passage.
And behind the sandy stretch that could serve as a retreat route, they scattered caltrops (蒺藜) thickly.
Lumps of iron shaped like nails.
They pierce bare feet and straw sandals alike.
Waegu who move barefoot—or in straw shoes—won't take a single clean step across caltrops.
Their soles will scream before their heads do.
Park Seong-jin swept the terrain once, and said briefly,
"Good. This place is now… their grave."
He settled quietly facing the shoreline.
Now the enemy only had to come up.
The long war in Jiangnan had made Park Seong-jin more than a strong fighter.
It had made him a seasoned commander who read the field and moved troops.
He hated useless shouting and empty swagger.
A superior who "pretends to be working" and lets time leak away
kills soldiers on the battlefield just the same.
Park Seong-jin was not that kind of commander.
"One hundred paces.
Five blue triangular marker flags.
Plant them on the exact firing line."
The troops ran off yelling "Loyalty!"
then returned after jamming them in roughly.
Park Seong-jin's whip moved first.
Crack. Crack!
"Aagh—!"
"Not roughly. Exactly.
Match the firing line. Five. Again."
"Loyalty! Loyalty!"
The soldier clutched the spot he'd been struck and ran again.
This time, the flags went in properly.
Only after test shots did Park Seong-jin nod.
Then, from the hidden cavalry side, a sound rose.
Movement—something pale flashed for an instant.
Park Seong-jin's face hardened at once.
"You're hiding so the enemy won't notice, and you make noise?"
"S-sorry!"
"Everyone—foreheads down!"
Hundreds bent at once, groaning.
They'd ridden all day; bending their backs wasn't easy.
Nngh, nngh, nngh—
For those who moved too slowly, small pebbles flew like flicked fingertips
and struck their foreheads with perfect accuracy.
Tap. Tap. Taaap!
"Aaagh!"
"What's the essence of an ambush?
Not seen. Not heard. No smoke. Even your presence hidden!"
"Not seen! Not heard! No smoke! Presence hidden!"
He made them repeat it again and again.
When the soldiers rose after a full gak with their foreheads down,
their presence was actually smaller.
Their movements became lighter. Quieter.
It works.
Park Seong-jin's eyes loosened by the faintest degree.
Before long, the intelligence officer came running again.
"Loyalty! Soon you'll be able to see the enemy ships!"
"Oh—right. I forgot."
Park Seong-jin scratched his head.
The officer asked carefully,
"Your order…?"
"Send a few out to welcome them."
"…Pardon?"
"Change into waegu gear.
Wave the flag they use.
Make it look like 'it's safe to land.'"
"Loyalty!"
A few soldiers slipped out, wearing waegu armor.
In their hands, small flags bearing the Three-Dot Crest (三點紋) taken in battle.
When the wind blew, the flags fluttered faintly toward the enemy ships.
Far away—one black dot.
Two.
Three.
Enemy ships began to show themselves.
At last, the main force was coming.
The lure had only just begun.
The number of troops was larger than expected.
Beyond the shoreline, ships cast shadow after shadow,
and more than twenty great ships (大船) lined up, lodged along the crescent coast.
Roughly fifty men per ship.
Even a quick count came close to a thousand.
Song Yi-jeong murmured, almost a whisper.
"Commander… that's… too many."
Park Seong-jin's eyebrow trembled, just slightly.
Why send a thousand to this remote coast…?
The thought flashed like lightning.
No answer came.
He didn't know waegu well enough yet.
Maybe they trusted numbers.
Maybe they were landing carelessly.
The straw stacks set as choke points.
The smoke rising from every house.
The disguise of a fake village—
All of it looked almost meaningless in the face of the enemy's sheer count.
They weren't cautious.
Their steps carried the arrogance of, Who would resist out here?
On each ship, armor clanged.
The waegu who jumped down onto the shore began to arrange themselves in the dark—
five ranks, in column.
They weren't half-naked bandits.
They were a regular army (正規軍).
Swords and spears, bows and veterans, armor—everything in place.
Calling them "waegu" felt wrong for a force like this.
Park Seong-jin muttered low,
"Not bandits. An army."
About twenty Muin fighters took their ambush posture in the sandy wind.
Song Yi-jeong slipped up beside Park Seong-jin.
"What do we do?"
Park Seong-jin answered.
"Attack."
"Loyalty!"
The moment that single word fell, Song Yi-jeong's flag snapped up.
As the wind whipped the coast, the hidden cavalry's armor shivered—shrk.
Then—doom, do-doom—doom-doom-doom!!
Drums thundered.
Drums hidden behind the shore began to roar,
and a short blast of conch horn tore the night.
That was the signal.
On the sand of the coast, a thousand cavalry rose in a single line.
"Forward—entire army!"
In an instant, the night sea trembled.
Hooves.
Sand bursting.
The metallic crash of shields and armor.
At the very front, Park Seong-jin lifted his spear and shouted,
"Drive through!"
A thousand riders (千騎) and a thousand landed waegu.
Two enormous waves slammed head-on along the shore.