Chapter 43. Summoned Again — Youngwoo
The command tent lay dim under a low-burning lamp.
This time, he had been called in as the commander of the Fifth Unit.
Park Geunsu stood beside him, almost like a guardian.
"Reporting as ordered."
Lee Heesong's eyes glimmered with a strange yellow light.
It was a gaze difficult to read.
Neither favor nor hostility revealed itself.
Only a quiet intent—measuring, calculating—rested beneath it.
Before such eyes, there was little a man could do.
One could only act as one always had.
Perhaps this matter had nothing to do with his own faults at all.
After all, it was Youngwoo who had been ordered to accompany them.
"So—what happened today? I hear Alhacheopmok'a is dead."
Park Geunsu's eyes lifted briefly.
Even those who had fought in the battle had not confirmed the enemy commander's name.
Yet here, in the command tent, it had already been declared.
Not a guess—an assertion.
That was no ordinary intelligence.
Someone was planted.
The thought flared like fire.
If such a spy existed, then their own information must already be slipping through the cracks.
Another suspicion took root in Park Geunsu's mind—
that the leaks might have passed through the General himself.
He fell silent, lost in thought.
Lee Heesong pressed him.
"Why are you standing there?"
Park Geunsu straightened at once.
"We did not know it was Alhacheopmok'a."
Lee Heesong chuckled.
"You killed him and didn't even know who he was? Ha!"
"My apologies."
"Well, that can happen."
Lee Heesong cut himself off and turned his gaze to Youngwoo.
"And how did you do it?"
Youngwoo stiffened.
"We concentrated our fire."
"Concentrated fire? Are you saying the others don't?"
"We struck down the standard-bearer first.
Once the chain of command broke, the officer stepped forward.
That was when we focused our arrows."
"Focused, you say."
Youngwoo glanced at Park Geunsu.
"Usually, archers fire on signal.
Where the arrows land is not closely tracked.
No one really knows who shot where."
"What?"
Lee Heesong almost snapped, then forced himself to hold back.
The implication was clear—the orders were not truly reaching the ranks below.
Youngwoo continued, steady.
"They are told to shoot, so they shoot in that general direction.
When the arrows fall like rain, no one can even lift their head.
Still, they pretend to fire—because they are told to."
"Is that true?"
Lee Heesong turned to Seo Uitaek, seated nearby as always.
"Our unit is not like that," Seo replied calmly.
"There may be a few like that.
But to take a small fault and make it the whole—
most soldiers carry out their orders faithfully."
Lee Heesong looked back at Youngwoo.
"And you? How did you make them shoot properly?"
Youngwoo hesitated for a moment, glancing around.
His eyes rolled once, wide.
"I told them I would kill them if they didn't."
"A threat, then."
"I did not force them to shoot under the arrow storm.
I told them to stay behind their shields—
not even to show a finger."
Lee Heesong let out a dry laugh.
"And then?"
"I broke their formation."
"How?"
"I assigned five veteran archers to target the standard-bearer.
That target is visible."
"Hmm. And then you ordered concentrated fire."
"I told them—just take one."
"And?"
"That is all."
Lee Heesong nodded slowly.
At that moment, Youngwoo saw Seo Uitaek's face.
A rotten smile clung there, forced into place.
Born of the Seo clan, he feared nothing.
There was no one to whom he needed to bow.
He believed himself the rightful next master of this fortress.
If the current commander held the power to name his successor,
then surely that choice would fall to him.
And so, he carried himself with arrogance.
Youngwoo neither belonged among such men
nor wished to.
"So your South Gate unit has been fighting only in form until now."
Park Geunsu quickly stepped in.
"That is not the case. He only means such instances exist."
"Your subordinate said it himself."
"That is not so."
This time, Seo Uitaek turned to Youngwoo.
His face looked ready to cut a man down.
One wrong word, and steel would follow.
Lee Heesong flicked a glance toward him, then asked again.
"Is what you said true?"
Nothing would change, no matter what more was said.
So Youngwoo answered plainly.
"It is true.
Nine hundred ninety out of a thousand arrows fly astray.
But I cannot drive the men too hard.
The will to live—
even a worm has it."
Seo Uitaek exploded.
"How long must we listen to such nonsense?"
Youngwoo placed his fist to his chest and stepped back.
"My apologies. This mouth of mine often causes trouble."
The air shifted.
This had been meant as a place to honor a man
who had slain an enemy commander.
It should have called for reward—
a slaughtered ox would not have been too much.
Even a promotion would not have been strange.
Instead, the room sank into silence.
It was no longer about victory.
It was a collision—
between the truth of the field
and those who wished to bury it.
Youngwoo found himself longing for something simpler.
To return to his men.
To share the victory with those who had fought beside him.
That alone would have been enough.
But the meeting did not end there.
After a brief pause, another voice rose.
And that voice led to yet another proposal—
from Seo Uitaek.