The Summons
A man appeared slowly at the far end of the dusty road.
A long sword hung at his side, and a massive crescent blade—an enormous yue-dao—rested across his shoulder, its shaft slanting down his back.
The sun was lowering.
His shadow stretched long across the earth.
The horse beneath him was weary, head lowered, sides flecked with dried foam.
The rider's back was stiff, yet his eyes moved restlessly, scanning left and right.
He looked like someone about to cause trouble.
Yet there was no killing intent in his gaze.
He studied the main gate of the Jin estate again and again, lifting his chin to read the plaque.
Once.
Twice.
A third time.
As though he could not read it—
or could, and simply needed to be certain.
He looked like a country man who had just arrived in the capital.
A small shield was fastened to the guard on his wrist.
Despite the awkward weight, he handled the reins with ease.
The man seemed simple. The horse exhausted.
But the yue-dao alone made clear that this was no casual visit.
Two nephews guarding the gate stiffened.
Their spearheads rose slightly.
The man paid no attention to their tension.
He lifted his eyes again to the plaque above the gate.
Henan's First House.
"What's that supposed to be?" one muttered.
"You stay here. I'll inform Uncle."
One of them dashed inside.
The stranger urged his horse forward a few slow steps, whether aware of the movement or not.
"Who are you!"
It was Jin Yu-ui.
He raised the spearhead firmly toward the man.
The stranger tilted his head.
"May I ask something?"
His tone was cautious—almost clumsy.
The weapon on his shoulder promised violence; the voice did not.
Yu-ui felt a flicker of unease.
There was not a trace of hostility in the man's speech.
"What do you wish to ask?"
"This… is this the Jin estate in Henan? The ancestral home of General Jin Mu-gwang?"
For an instant, Yu-ui nearly laughed.
To stand before the general's ancestral gate and ask where it was.
Still, he did not lower the spear.
"You are standing in it."
The man frowned slightly.
"But the plaque doesn't say Jin Estate."
Yu-ui glanced up himself.
Henan's First House.
He rarely had reason to look at it.
"It means we are the foremost house in Henan—"
The man's face brightened.
"Ah! Then I've come to the right place. Heh."
He gave a formal military salute to the young guard.
The motion was rough but disciplined.
"Yang Jo-hui, Third Division, Fifth Squad Leader of the White Dragon. I have come in answer to the summons."
"White Dragon… Third Division?"
"Yes. Fifth Squad Leader."
The tone changed.
No longer hesitant—precise and firm.
Footsteps approached from within.
Jin Mu-sik emerged.
"Who is this?"
Yang Jo-hui's eyes widened.
Mu-sik resembled his brother.
The likeness struck him like a blow.
He leapt from his horse and dropped to one knee.
"Yang Jo-hui, Squad Leader of the Fifth Squad, Third Division of the White Dragon. I have come in response to the summons."
Mu-sik's brow furrowed.
"We have issued no summons."
"It was General Lee Hee's order. To assemble in Henan."
"And why have you come here?"
Yang raised his head.
"If it is Henan… then is this not General Jin Mu-gwang's house?"
Mu-sik paused.
The man before him was worn thin by travel.
Sun-darkened skin. Hollowed cheeks. Fatigue embedded in every movement.
The horse was in no better condition.
But the weapons—
the yue-dao, the sword, the shield—
they were not ornamental.
They spoke of real battle.
"Come inside first. Yu-ui, tend to the horse and bring him to the guest quarters."
"Yes, Father."
Yang lowered the spearhead respectfully and stepped through the gate.
From the opposite side of the courtyard, men came running with spears in hand.
Word had already spread.
One of them folded his spear and rushed forward.
He had once been White Dragon as well.
"Brother!"
Yang's eyes flew open wide.
He dropped the yue-dao.
The two collided in a fierce embrace.
"You! What are you doing here!"
"Brother, I stayed here. They told me to guard the estate."
"And they told me to remain up there!"
"You were Fifth Squad! We were First! We took the worst of it!"
Yang's face flushed.
"Damn it—are you saying we were weak—"
He swallowed the rest.
This was the general's home.
Women and children lived here.
He lowered his voice.
"Then why are you here?"
"Summons."
The man opened his palm.
There lay a leaf-shaped throwing blade—worn bright at the edges from repeated handling.
Carved upon it were the characters:
召集 河南 – 希
Assemble. Henan – Hee.
The wind stirred lightly across the courtyard.
Several former White Dragon soldiers standing nearby exchanged glances.
No one spoke.
But they understood.
They were beginning to return.
One by one.
Somewhere on distant roads, other footsteps were already turning toward this place.
As if a camera slowly withdrew—
past the great gate,
past the worn horse and the faint echo of a military salute,
past the small blade bearing its simple command—
the summons had already begun.