619.Attack on Iki Island
The flames had subsided, but smoke still clawed at the throat.
As warnings spread through the fortress, the soldiers in the courtyard beneath the keep scattered, then reassembled into position.
Shield troops raised the front.
Pikemen braced behind them.
Archers leapt onto the retaining walls and the shattered remains of towers.
Like a folded fan snapping open, the formation took shape in an instant.
Park Seong-jin did not shout.
He spoke quietly.
"The forest."
Song I-jeong let out a brief snort.
"Looks like their final struggle."
Park Seong-jin's gaze locked onto the forest's edge—
where leaves flipped unnaturally in the wind,
where branches sagged under human weight,
and above all, where it was too quiet.
"Deputy."
"Yes."
"Do not fight the forest as a whole."
"The forest is their blade."
"Do not grab the blade—break only the holes where the edge emerges."
Song I-jeong nodded.
The playfulness drained from his face.
"Only the holes."
That was when it began.
The first battle cry burst from the woods.
"Do not defile the spirit of Iki—!!"
A death squad with black cloth bound around their heads poured down the slope.
It was not a disciplined charge.
It was frenzy—like knives driven into their own spines.
Some wielded long swords without shields.
Others carried spears with trembling tips.
Their eyes did not seek victory.
They sought an ending, even in death.
They seemed more numerous as they descended.
Park Seong-jin knew it was the forest's illusion.
Black figures broke and rejoined between trees, multiplying themselves through shadow.
It was their usual method.
"Archers."
Park Seong-jin raised his hand.
"Not yet."
One step closer.
The moment the front runners leapt into the low clearing beneath the rampart, his hand dropped.
"Fire."
Fiuung—
The first arrow flew.
Then the sky closed with a rain of shafts.
Those emerging from the forest moved as if they had expected it—
rolling low, using tree trunks and rock shadows to cut firing lines.
Some fell.
The rest charged through.
"Shields!"
Boom—!
Blue shields slammed into the ground in unison.
Behind them, pikes rose.
As the first wave struck the shield wall, spearpoints lunged forward at once.
Thud—!
Abdomens were pierced.
Ribs tore.
Bodies pitched forward, caught on the spears.
As the next man stepped on a falling body to leap over,
a second spear was already waiting.
"Strike those who enter."
"Do not chase those who turn back!"
Park Seong-jin's voice stayed low.
Chasing retreaters breaks formation.
The forest feeds on that gap.
He had learned how to fight a forest not on open fields,
but in the alleys of Tsushima.
The death squad faltered once—but did not end.
The forest vomited again.
This time from the left slope, down a rocky ridge.
Faster.
More thinly spread.
An angle targeting the pikemen's blind spot.
Song I-jeong licked his lips once.
"Skilled fighters mixed in."
Instead of replying, Park Seong-jin lifted a finger lightly, as if flicking something away.
"Left wing. Half-open."
The left-side pikemen held the shield wall steady while the rear two ranks shifted back half a step.
Just enough space for one man to pass.
The moment the skilled fighters judged the gap and lunged,
the opening became not a mouth—but a throat.
"Bait," Song I-jeong murmured, swallowing the rest of the word.
Three experts slipped in.
Light steps.
Blades on time.
The first stabbed between shields.
The second cut over his shoulder.
The third filled the gap.
They had taken exactly two steps—
when two spearpoints erupted silently from behind, striking their knees at once.
Chik—!
Not bone—joints.
A thrust that cut breath from the hinge itself.
As knees collapsed, bodies tilted.
As bodies tilted, necks exposed.
Whish—
Song I-jeong's blade brushed past.
Breath ended before blood could burst.
"Can we really call that skill?"
Song I-jeong said flatly.
No mockery.
Just assessment.
Then a short, thick arrow shot from the forest—
a close-range bolt meant to tear flesh.
It fell from above.
Thud!
A shieldman's neck snapped backward.
"High angle fire!"
Archers atop the ruined towers turned at once.
Between branches, a hidden firing hole appeared.
Not shooting the forest—
only the hole.
Exactly as Park Seong-jin intended.
"There."
"Below the third branch."
"Confirmed!"
"Sequential!"
Fiuung—fiuung—fiuung—!
Three arrows struck the same opening.
One shattered the branch.
One pierced the shoulder.
The last punched through the throat.
Something dropped from the forest.
The sound alone confirmed it had been a man.
"General."
An adjutant ran up, breath ragged.
"More movement behind the forest."
"They're not all out yet."
Park Seong-jin closed his eyes, then opened them.
"They're not remaining," he said.
He pointed to the forest.
"They're carving an exit."
"This fight is about opening a path."
Song I-jeong tilted his head.
"A path?"
"There is a lord."
"There are documents."
"What they truly want is to burn them, steal them, or buy time to signal the mainland."
The levity vanished from Song I-jeong's face.
"Then inside the forest—"
"They are," Park Seong-jin replied.
He inhaled deeply, then issued orders.
"Move the document chests to the ships. Immediately."
"Triple escort."
"Anyone who approaches—kill."
The civil officials went pale.
But none objected.
They had already seen that documents were weapons more dangerous than blades.
"Deputy."
"Yes."
"Find their path."
Song I-jeong rolled his shoulders and smiled.
"Then I'll take the way the forest hates most."
"And what does it hate most?"
Song I-jeong flicked his sword once.
"Those who hide in forests believe the forest is on their side."
"Show them it isn't—and they collapse."
He gestured.
Sixteen operatives dispersed.
But they did not scatter.
Maintaining exact distance, they seeped between trees like a single woven net.
At that moment, another cry erupted from the forest.
"I will show you the way of the samurai—!!"
Park Seong-jin murmured, almost to himself.
"Without knowing where that road leads."
He looked over the chaotic battlefield beyond the shield wall.
Then raised his hand.
"Center. One step."
The blue shields advanced one step.
The pikes grew one step longer.
That single step was what the forest hated most—
land taken slowly, surely, from what it had offered.
And not far away, something shifted in the woods.
Ropes hidden under leaves.
Logs prepared to fall.
Oil meant for fire.
The hurried touch of hands.
Song I-jeong's voice drifted like wind.
"Found it."
"Their path."
Park Seong-jin's gaze turned cold.
"Block it."
The moment the command fell, the forest went silent.
Silence is the most dangerous moment—
the stillness before the blade enters.
This time, a sound broke it first.
Thud—!
Someone stepped precisely onto a trap.
What followed was not a scream.
Screams require breath.
"Left side, three down."
"Center—one captured."
"Cover his mouth."
"Break his jaw if needed," Park Seong-jin answered instantly.
"Even without a tongue, information comes out."
The adjutant's eyes widened.
Song I-jeong smirked.
"General… you've really changed."
Park Seong-jin did not smile.
"I learned it in Tsushima."
He swept his gaze across the shaking banner of the keep,
the smoke of the burned harbor,
and the forest's black breath.
"The island is small."
"The smaller it is, the more blades it hides."
Then his final order.
"All units."
"Do not enter the forest."
"Make the forest come down."
"Anyone who comes down—let none return."
At that moment, the death squad's cry rose again.
But the arrogance from before was gone.