Chapter 2
Bursting through the doors, Captain Kang Mu-shin practically lunged toward the midwife, his voice strained with desperate anxiety.
“How is my wife? Is she safe?!”
“Calm yourself, my lord,” the midwife urged gently, stepping aside.
“Your lady is safe. Right this way…”
Mu-shin hurried to the bedside.
Kneeling beside his wife, he pressed a tender kiss to her sweat-glistening forehead before taking his newborn son into his arms.
A rare, trembling smile broke across his blood-stained face.
Before the quiet moment could fully settle, an outer guard stepped quickly into the chamber, bowing low.
“My lord… there is a commander waiting outside. He demands to see you immediately.”
Gently handing the infant back to the midwife, Mu-shin stepped into the dark courtyard.
Standing in the cold night air was a familiar figure clad in polished, heavy iron-and-leather armor—a high-ranking officer backed by a personal retinue.
Without a word, the two men embraced.
“I heard what befell your family in Pusanpo, my friend,” the officer said quietly, his voice heavy with solemnity.
“I am deeply sorry.”
“It is… a heavy burden,” Mu-shin replied, swallowing the lump in his throat.
“But heaven has granted light in the dark. My wife has just delivered a healthy son.”
“Truly? Then heaven has not abandoned your house.”
Returning inside, Mu-shin carefully placed his infant son into his friend’s arms.
The young commander offered quiet congratulations to the exhausted mother.
But right as the Hour of the Rat (Ja-si) struck, the room suddenly turned cold.
Mu-shin’s wife let out a sharp gasp, twisting in pain as a second wave of fierce labor seized her.
“Out, my lords! Out!” the midwife commanded, pushing both men into the courtyard.
Mu-shin paced the gravel yard like a caged predator, his boots cutting sharp lines into the dirt.
Minutes dragged like hours.
Suddenly, a breathless soldier burst through the villa gates.
“Who goes there?!” Mu-shin barked, hand immediately dropping to his sword hilt.
“Hold—he is my personal attendant,” Mu-shin’s friend interjected.
“I had him disguised in military armor for the road.”
“Young Master (Doryeong-nim)!” the attendant gasped, falling to his knees before the commander.
“Disaster! Troubles at the perimeter!”
“Speak,” the Young Master commanded coldly.
“Japanese raiders! Wokou vanguard forces are closing in on Miryang fast! What are your orders?!”
Mu-shin turned sharply to his friend.
“How many men did you march with?”
“Three hundred battle-hardened troops,” the Young Master replied.
“Then we waste no time. We move to the war council at the Magistrate’s court immediately.”
“And your wife?” the Young Master asked, looking back toward the birthing quarters.
“If the city falls, no one in this room survives,” Mu-shin said, his eyes turning to cold iron.
“We protect Miryang to keep them alive.”
The Young Master turned to his trusted attendant.
“Stay here. Post yourself at the door and protect the mother and child with your life.”
As both officers mounted their steeds and kicked them into a gallop, the piercing, shrill cry of a second newborn shattered the midnight silence behind them.
The second twin had arrived.
Minutes later, their horses skidded to a halt outside the regional court.
Inside the central tactical hall, the Magistrate stood surrounded by nervous local captains.
As the Young Master and Mu-shin entered, the Magistrate’s eyes narrowed at the unfamiliar commander.
“Who is this soldier?”
“He is my comrade,” Mu-shin answered firmly.
“A officer serving under the Eastern Army Headquarters (Donggye).”
“You are welcome in Miryang, Commander,” the Magistrate said, stepping forward.
“Tell me—did you bring reinforcements?”
“Three hundred cavalry,” the Young Master stated flatly.
“Over one hundred of them are elite Gi-gung—mounted archers.”
“Heaven be praised,” the Magistrate breathed.
“My Lord Magistrate,” Mu-shin interrupted.
“What of the refugees gathered outside the city walls?”
The Magistrate turned to an officer.
“Are they still trapped beyond the gates?”
“Yes, my lord,” the officer replied nervously.
“We halted the entry.”
“Open the gates! Bring them all inside immediately!” the Magistrate ordered.
“Sir, wait!” another officer pleaded.
“If Wokou spies or saboteurs are hidden among the crowd, we risk opening the fortress from within!”
“It is a risk we must take,” the Magistrate snapped sternly.
“If we are wrong, we face hidden saboteurs. If we leave them outside, innocent farmers and children are slaughtered like cattle before dawn. Bring them inside!”
“Yes, my lord!” The guards rushed out to execute the command.
Mu-shin stepped up to the central war map.
“How many active defenders do we have in Miryang currently?”
“Two hundred garrison troops fit for duty,” the Magistrate answered.
“Plus seventy local volunteers—farmers and fishermen willing to hold a blade.”
“Then we have nearly six hundred men,” Mu-shin calculated rapidly.
“Here is how we hold the line: We split our forces, stationing one hundred men along each cardinal watch—East, West, North, and South. Archers will mount the battlements above the main gates. While the walls draw their fire, my friend and I will take the Gi-gung and strike them from the blind side.”
“Can we expect support from Gaegyeong?” the Magistrate asked, looking at the capital’s direction on the map.
“The central court is too far,” the Young Master replied grimly.
“For tonight, we stand alone.”
At the main southern ramparts, the heavy wooden gates ground open just long enough to sweep the panicked refugees inside.
The seventy local volunteers worked quickly to herd the crowds into the inner market square, preventing a riot.
Mu-shin and the Young Master stood atop the stone battlements, looking out over the pitch-black fields.
Torches flared in the distance as the Wokou vanguard materialized out of the dark mist.
A lone Japanese officer rode forward on a armored mount, shouting toward the walls in a foreign tongue.
“What is that barbarian spewing?” Mu-shin asked, his fingers tightening on his bowstring.
“He is demanding our unconditional surrender,” the Young Master translated, his voice laced with venom.
“He says if we open the gates, our lives will be spared… provided we hand over all the women in the city as tribute.”
“Vermin!”
Mu-shin drew his composite horn bow to full draw in a single swift motion.
THWACK!
The arrow cut through the night, driving straight through the Japanese officer’s throat.
The raider pitched backward off his saddle, dead before he hit the mud.
An enraged roar erupted from the Wokou lines.
Instantly, a black cloud of arrows vaulted into the night sky, raining down on the battlements as the enemy army surged forward.
Stone met iron in a brutal, deafening clash.
Mu-shin reached into his quiver for another shaft, but his fingers hit empty leather.
He spun toward a nearby runner.
“Where are the arrows?!”
“My lord, the supply is nearly depleted!” the soldier yelled over the din of battle.
“We only have enough shafts left to hold the high walls—not enough for an open war!”
Mu-shin grabbed the soldier by his collar.
“Listen to me! Go to the market square immediately! Take the seventy volunteers and every able-bodied civilian. strip the lumber yards, chop bamboo, split iron nails—tell them to craft every arrow and crude missile they can throw together! Move!”
“Yes, my lord!”
Mu-shin turned to the Young Master, a grim smirk touching his lips despite the chaos.
“It’s time.”
“Let us ride.”
Sprinting down the stone steps, the two commanders swung into their saddles, flanked by one hundred heavily armed Gi-gung mounted archers.
The heavy iron hinges of the hidden Northern Sally Port groaned as the back gate cracked open.
Sweeping out into the fog under the cover of night, the cavalry unit galloped in a silent, deadly flank toward the exposed Wokou siege camp…
Lights Fade.