578.
The wind at the harbor had changed.
Only days ago the shoreline had carried the smell of ruin and lamentation.
Today, a heavy resonance spread through the air—the sound of iron and wood colliding.
"All right. Hoist her up."
At the old skipper's rough shout, a ship that had been worked on deep inside the harbor slowly—yet powerfully—rose into view.
The harbor's elderly shipwrights had gathered.
They were descendants of those who once built vessels for Jang Bogo's fleets at Cheonghaejin.
Time had scattered the craft, but the memory in their fingertips remained sharp.
"A ship begins with its spine."
"When you strike, you must read the grain of the wood."
Park Seong-jin watched their work in silence.
The rising frame of the ship resembled the skeleton of a great beast taking form in the wind.
The old man spoke.
"This is the best we can make. The fastest, the strongest.
We didn't just refit an enemy ship—we raised this one anew."
The hull was longer and lower than ordinary fishing boats.
The bow was sharpened to cleave water cleanly,
and along the sides, thin yet hardened planks stood like a shield wall,
angled to deflect arrows along their flow.
At the bow, an iron ram was mounted—
a spear-shaped mass cast from molten metal, set to rip into an enemy ship's flank.
The dragon-head at the stern bore the look of ornament,
but beneath its lower jaw hung a hooked steel fang—
a tool to catch, wrench, and break.
At the center was a platform for a heavy crossbow.
To support the recently installed siege bow, stabilizing plates had been added to the hull's core.
With a firmer stance than before, it could now hurl steel bolts heavier than arrows.
"With this, we sever the rigging," the old man muttered.
"And with this, when we pierce the side, the ship loses the flow of the water."
The interior was cramped, but it could hold a squad of warriors and a rank of archers.
As the current brushed the hull, bang, thud, woong—
vibrations spread like the breathing of wood itself.
The old man said quietly,
"The blood of Cheonghaejin moves again."
Park Seong-jin drew a breath.
"With this ship, can we keep pace with the fast ones?"
The old man smiled.
"Speed will not be a problem."
From behind, Song I-jeong spoke.
"General, you must name the ship."
Park Seong-jin looked to the sky and sea, then said low,
"Haechil (海漆)."
Chil—lacquer: black, water-sealing, enduring.
A flow that coats and erases the enemy in the pitch-black sea.
"A ship that paints the enemy over the black sea."
A shiver ran through the men's faces.
First Engagement: A Trial
Before sunrise, a sense of battle gathered on the harbor's surface.
From the scouting boat, bang, bang—sharp detonations rang out.
Horn calls rode the wind, and signal smoke traced a thin path across the sky.
"Enemy ships sighted. Two."
Haechil's sail slid smoothly upward.
Park Seong-jin stood at the bow.
His white robe flared in the wind as it cut through the darkness.
Three ships spread into a character like 品:
the center thrusting forward, the flanks closing like pincers.
The old skipper shouted,
"The wind's good. We're at peak speed."
As the sun crested the waterline, two black sails wavered inside a narrow bay.
The scouting boat drew alongside Haechil.
A staff officer shouted through splashing water:
"They're raiders from Kagawa—two ships, about seventy including sailors. Large vessels."
Park Seong-jin raised his hand.
"Ram them."
Haechil swung to port and surged forward.
The two ships behind split left and right.
Enemy deck cries burst out.
"Yaaa—!"
Kuuuuung.
Haechil's iron ram tore into the enemy ship's port side.
The sound of splintering timber thundered across the sea as water exploded upward.
Then the flanking ships struck.
Bang. Bang.
As all three wrapped the enemy at once, the ship's flow broke.
"Board," Park Seong-jin said.
Grapnels and lines flew.
The warrior unit crossed over.
Archers took angles from both sides and loosed.
Whik—whik—whik.
Arrows slipped between armor plates.
Close combat followed—
side slashes, shield shoves, rope-pull thrusts, shots aimed at ankles on the deck—
each motion interlocking in sequence.
Park Seong-jin held his command position,
his gaze sweeping the battlefield evenly.
Before even half a gak had passed, the flow was decided.
Both enemy ships were taken.
The warriors shouted, breathless.
"General, secured!"
Park Seong-jin pointed to the deck.
"Refine the movements.
Ship-to-ship transfers, archer support angles, grapnel connections—reset them.
Adjust the heavy crossbow for live combat."
He looked at the damaged side.
The current slid past the wound.
Rumors Across the Coast
Within a day, rumors spread along the entire coast.
Survivors from wrecks washed near Jeongju spoke between gasps.
"Ears rose on the ship."
"Every time the blade flashed, someone fell."
The words rode the sea wind through encampments.
A routed soldier pushed through a bamboo grove.
"I saw it. The sword moved like light."
Why commanders exchanged looks.
Scenes of legend overlapped with memories of battle.
Someone muttered low,
"They call him the Sea Wraith."
A Shift in Movement
That evening, patterns changed.
Night sailing dwindled.
Sails were used with caution.
Scattered bands gathered into fleets.
One Why commander ground his teeth.
"We deal with him first."
Another studied the map.
"We move carefully."
Only the sound of waves remained along the shore.
And beneath that surface, a new current was setting its course.