Chapter 23 – Reports
An Hui-se went to Lee Hui-song immediately and reported everything.
Instead of praise, he was scolded.
"You can't even control that one man?"
It was exactly what he had expected.
Lee Hui-song was not on An Hui-se's side.
But he was not on Yeong-woo's side either.
His attitude seemed to say only one thing.
"The winner is on my side."
It sounded very much like an order.
If necessary, break him and make him obey.
But if An Hui-se failed,
his own position in Hoeryeong Fortresswould become extremely difficult.
In situations like this,
it was the wiser man who bowed first.
After returning to the camp,
An Hui-se approached Yeong-woo and softened his tone.
He began by saying he might have misunderstood the situation.
He suggested that they should try working well together.
Yeong-woo accepted reluctantly, wearing a dull expression.
The conflict seemed patched together.
But An Hui-se quietly began observing him.
He asked questions about Yeong-woo's methods.
Then he verified everything with his own eyes.
When he could not go himself,
he confirmed it through Kwak Eun-seop, commander of the 6th unit.
Then he reported everything to Lee Hui-song.
Each task.
Each action.
Carefully woven into precise reports.
A commander must report well.
And must also receive reports well.
An Hui-se gathered information from every source.
He assembled the details carefully.
Then he reported them to Lee Hui-song.
At first the General found such detailed reports tiresome.
But gradually his interest grew.
That interest appeared through his questions.
Meanwhile, Yeong-woo knew nothing of this.
Without battle, he focused on routine military duties.
In the spare hours that remained, he continued his own training.
In the Northern Provinces, arrows were not made from bamboo.
They were made from shrub wood.
Since the days of the Mohe tribes, Goguryeo had used such arrows.
After Goguryeo fell, the Jurchens continued the custom.
Even when bamboo shafts were used,
the section where the bowstring rested was always reinforced with gwangdae shrub wood.
The material was both flexible and durable.
On days without duties, soldiers went out to gather arrow materials.
When suitable branches were found,
they were cut and brought back.
Lightly equipped soldiers traveled far to collect them.
Yet they did not work all day.
Half the time they spent hunting meat and roasting it.
Yeong-woo almost grew angry when he heard this.
But he was told it was simply the custom.
When he reported the matter exactly as it was,
Lee Hui-song only said,
"You handled it well."
Yeong-woo could not tell whether that meant
the soldiers had done well,
or whether his reporthad.
Even after returning with materials,
the soldiers simply threw the branches aside and ignored them.
It looked careless.
But Kwak Eun-seop explained.
"They're waiting for the wood to dry."
A man who had worked in the Southern Provinces
was now learning many new things in the North.
Still, An Hui-se waited for a mistake.
The moment one appeared,
he would report it and cut Yeong-woo down.
Everything Yeong-woo did was carefully investigated.
Then summarized and reported.
Lee Hui-song enjoyed hearing such detailed accounts of the soldiers' work.
And An Hui-se enjoyed proving himself useful.
Yeong-woo, however, had risen from the ranks.
From common soldier.
To squad leader.
Now to Daejeong.
Because of that,
he understood the struggles of the men below him.
He worked beside them.
He helped when work stalled.
He never forced unreasonable orders through sheer authority.
He taught those who did not know.
More than half the unit consisted of new recruits.
Tension between veterans and new soldiers could easily have grown.
But under Yeong-woo, it did not.
This too was reported upward.
But the report framed it differently.
It said there was no distinction between ranks.
That Yeong-woo did not give orders,
but made requests.
That he used gentle forms of speech.
Some questioned whether such leadership would function during real war.
Whenever Lee Hui-song heard these reports,
he asked about the other units.
"We were just about to do the same."
"We were waiting for the sap to rise in the shrub wood."
Such responses often tried to hide laziness.
In contrast,
the 5th unit completed tasks efficiently
without waiting for orders.
Lee Hui-song ordered the production of fifty thousand arrows.
The work was divided among the units.
Yeong-woo's 5th unit finished first and filled the armory stores.
Reports flowed upward about everything happening below.
Lee Hui-song used those reports
to scold and pressure other commanders.
Few realized the source of the information.
An Hui-se delivered his reports when no one was present.
If others happened to be nearby,
he dismissed them on the excuse of urgent matters.
The man forced into promotion worked hard.
But he lacked skill in reporting.
And he did not move in harmony with the other units.
An Hui-se quietly reported these things.
And the information spread through the entire fortress.
That was the power of reports.
Lee Hui-song summoned other unit commanders.
"Why are you not doing what they are doing?"
He demanded.
The commanders felt uncomfortable.
But none dared voice complaint.
When spring came after war,
the first task was always arrow production.
No one knew exactly when the next invasion would come.
But everyone knew it would come.
When the winter winds returned,
the Jurchens would descend again.
Preparing then would be too late.
Preparation had to begin now.
For example,
soldiers searched old battlefields,
collecting weapons and armor left behind.
Yeong-woo's unit began first.
Other units followed reluctantly.
Their dissatisfaction grew.
The blame gradually shifted toward the 5th unit.
Few knew about An Hui-se's reports.
So they assumed everything was Yeong-woo's fault.
Cause and effect were not perfectly clear.
But blaming him felt close enough to the truth.
One day Yeong-woo's men were stacking stone fortifications.
Kwak Eun-seop approached.
"Damn it, why are you piling stones again?"
Yeong-woo answered calmly.
"This section looked weak."
"It's our responsibility."
"When stones fly during battle, it feels dangerous."
"Then we'll have to do the same!"
"You don't have to."
Kwak Eun-seop clicked his tongue.
"Everyone resents you."
"You don't realize it."
"Why would they resent me?"
"Because when you do something first, the other units must follow."
"They grow angry."
"You could have waited."
"If a commander doesn't know the work yet, he can ignore it."
"But because you do it, everyone must."
Yeong-woo sighed.
"That resentment is pointless."
"What we're doing isn't illegal."
"It isn't unreasonable."
"It's simply what soldiers should do."
Kwak Eun-seop raised his voice.
"Why must you do it first?"
"Our situation is different."
"How so?"
"Because someone is ready to cut my head off at any moment."
"And?"
"Because commanders are lined up watching to see how I behave."
"I may not care what happens to me."
"But these men are my responsibility."
"What should happen to them?"
"Should they die like last time?"
Kwak Eun-seop fell silent.
Many people were watching Yeong-woo.
He knew it too.
Yet forcing every unit to follow his example made things harder.
"You're right," he said at last.
"But it makes life difficult for us."
"Then don't do it."
"That's impossible."
"Orders will come soon enough."
"Then what should we do?"
"We can't just stand and be slaughtered."
"Surely it won't go that far."
Yeong-woo looked at him coldly.
"You heard it with your own ears."
"If we fail, they'll kill us."
Kwak Eun-seop remembered that moment.
When everyone's eyes had turned toward Yeong-woo.
To calm the unrest, the command staff promoted him to Daejeong.
And warned him clearly.
Fail, and you die.
Kwak Eun-seop understood.
That pressure was driving Yeong-woo forward.
And the General was using it
to extract labor from the entire garrison of Hoeryeong Fortress.