**Chapter 1**
In the year 1382—the year of *Im-sul*, the Year of the Black Dog—the Goryeo dynasty bled.
After years of relentless campaigns, the Wokou Raids reached a devastating peak.
Japanese samurai and sea-bandits laid waste to the southern and western coasts.
Villages burned, thousands were dragged into captivity, and among those caught in the storm was a battle-hardened officer: Captain Kang Mu-shin.
The raiders struck Pusanpo with savage fury.
It was a bloodbath—made worse because the local garrison had been lured away by a clever feint.
Deep within the dense, rocky slopes of the Geumjeongsan Forest, the Goryeo soldiers realized too late that they had marched straight into an ambush.
Steel clashed against steel as a desperate, chaotic skirmish erupted beneath the pines.
“My lord! Captain Kang!” a young soldier screamed, scrambling through the underbrush, his breath coming in ragged gasps.
Mu-shin parried a lethal downward slash from a samurai, turned his blade, and drove his *hwando* through his attacker’s chest.
He yanked the bloody steel free and whirled around, eyes wild beneath his iron helmet.
“Soldier! Report—what is happening?!” Mu-shin barked.
“My lord, it’s the village!” the soldier cried out, his voice trembling with sheer panic.
“The Japanese forces… they’ve breached Pusanpo! Barbarians are slaughtering everyone in sight!”
A cold dread gripped Mu-shin’s heart.
He seized the young soldier by his chest armor, pulling him close.
“My family! Did you see my family?!”
“No, my lord!” the young man wept.
“I couldn’t reach the estate!”
Before Mu-shin could respond, horns blew through the canopy.
Realizing their ambush had failed to wipe out the Goryeo force, the surviving raiders began to break contact, retreating into the thick tree line.
Mu-shin didn’t waste a single breath on relief.
He immediately split his surviving men into three groups.
“You—take the vanguard and pursue those bastards down through Mandeok Pass!” he ordered a sub-lieutenant.
“Drive them into the ravines and flush them toward the river! The rest of you, follow me back to Pusanpo—now!”
When Mu-shin and his detachment reached the outskirts of the village, the air was thick with ash and the stench of iron.
A handful of local guards were still desperately holding off the raiders.
With a roar, Mu-shin and his men charged into the fray, fighting street by street, carving a path through the burning alleyways.
Mu-shin sprinted toward his family’s villa.
The front gates were kicked off their hinges.
He burst into the courtyard—and froze.
His mother lay motionless near the main pavilion.
A few feet away, his father lay slain beside his drawn sword.
The world seemed to stop.
Mu-shin dropped his blood-soaked saber, fell to his knees beside his parents, and wept bitterly, his chest heaving with silent, agonizing sobs.
But through the fog of grief, a desperate thought pierced his mind.
*My wife.*
Wiping the tears from his soot-stained face, Mu-shin scrambled to his feet and searched the estate like a madman.
He checked the main hall, the quarters, the garden—nothing.
Finally, he threw open the heavy wooden doors of the rear rice store.
Shrinking into the darkest corner, huddled behind stacked grain sacks, was his heavily pregnant wife.
“My wife…” Mu-shin breathed, rushing to her side and pulling her trembling frame into his arms.
“It’s okay. I’m here. You’re safe.”
She sobbed uncontrollably, gasping for air against his mud-stained armor as she held her swollen belly.
Before he could comfort her further, a Goryeo soldier burst into the storehouse, out of breath.
“Captain! You must take your lady and leave at once! Enemy reinforcements are landing at the harbor—we cannot hold the perimeter much longer!”
There was no time to weep.
There was no time to give his parents a proper burial.
Grit-toothed, Mu-shin quickly gathered a few sacks of rice, salt, and warm clothing.
He mounted his horse, pulled his terrified wife up behind him, and rode hard into the shadows of the surrounding woods.
Dodging enemy patrols under the cover of night, he guided them north along the steep, treacherous trails of Mount Gajasan, pushing toward the inland sanctuary of Miryang.
When they finally reached the high walls of Miryang, a desperate scene awaited them.
The city was locked down tight.
Fearing spies and starvation, the Goryeo garrison had closed the massive gates.
Hundreds of displaced, wounded, and starving commoners were forced to camp in the cold mud outside, crying out for mercy.
As Mu-shin trotted his horse up to the main entryway, a guard stationed high on the battlements raised his bow.
“Halt! Who goes there?” the soldier yelled down.
Mu-shin reached for his belt and held a heavy bronze tag high into the torchlight.
“I am Captain Kang Mu-shin of the *Juwagun* border armies!” he shouted back, his voice echoing off the stone walls.
“I bear the *Maepyeo*!”
The guard squinted at the official military seal, his eyes widening.
“It’s a border captain! Open the gates! Let him through!”
The heavy iron-reinforced doors creaked open just wide enough for a horse.
As Mu-shin urged his mount forward through the parted crowd, a ragged woman darted out from the throng of refugees and grabbed tightly at his stirrup.
“My lord! Please!” she pleaded, tears streaking her dirt-caked face.
“Please, take me inside! I won’t survive the night out here!”
Mu-shin looked down at her with cold, exhausted eyes.
“Let go of my reins, woman,” he replied sharply.
“I have enough trouble of my own.”
“My lord, look at your lady!” the woman cried out, pointing at his wife, who was clutching her stomach in agony.
“She is in labor! I am a midwife—I can help deliver your child! Please!”
Mu-shin paused, his eyes shifting from the desperate midwife to his wife’s pale, sweat-glistening face.
He hesitated for a second, then reached down, grabbing the woman by her collar, and hauled her past the threshold just as the city gates slammed shut behind them.
Inside, the Chief Security Officer of Miryang recognized Mu-shin’s rank and immediately granted them shelter in a small quarter master’s hut.
Mu-shin ushered the midwife inside to tend to his wife, while he was called away to the magistrate’s headquarters to help local commanders map out emergency defense strategies against the Wokou threat.
Hours passed in a blur of tactical maps, military dispatches, and tense discussions.
Around *Hae-si*—the Hour of the Pig, near 10:00 PM—a sudden commotion broke out in the courtyard outside the command center.
The magistrate paused, nodding to a junior officer to investigate.
A short while later, the officer returned, his face flushed with a bright smile.
He bowed deeply toward Mu-shin.
“My lord,” the officer announced, his voice lifting the heavy mood in the room.
“Your wife has safely delivered a healthy child!”
A wave of relief washed over the war room.
The surrounding officers broke into warm cheers, clapping Mu-shin on his armored shoulders.
The magistrate smiled, waving a hand.
“Go, Captain. Go see your child.”
Mu-shin offered a breathless bow of gratitude and stepped out of the headquarters.
A chilly night wind blew across the courtyard, parting the dark, heavy storm clouds above to reveal a brilliant, silver moon.
With his heart pounding in his chest, Captain Kang Mu-shin ran through the quiet streets toward the glowing lantern light of his hut.