Beyond the Bridge
As the Baekryongdae descended in disciplined double ranks, the motley force—local militia with no experience of real battle mixed with imperial guards from afar—fell into confusion at once.
The force sweeping down over the ridge was like a massive tide crashing over a shore.
It overwhelmed simply by being seen.
They had never faced an army composed entirely of cavalry.
With no clear method of response, waiting only to be struck, their chests trembled with fear.
The mere sight of that wave rising along the ridge was enough to shrink their courage to a kernel.
What had appeared as scattered points atop the hill suddenly surged downward like a breaking sea.
The imperial troops and the assorted soldiers of Anyang County (雜軍) could do nothing but stare.
The momentum that seemed ready to sweep them away halted for a breath.
Then the hundred riders who had stopped raised their bows as one.
Each carried a horn bow, and each bore ample newly made arrows.
More than a hundred shafts arced high into the sky at once.
The men in front saw the arrows and tried to scatter, but the shafts fell into the tightly packed formation, piercing chests and shoulders with precision.
A concentrated volley against compressed infantry shattered the spearhead before it could form.
Screams broke out.
Men shoved and trampled one another trying to avoid the falling arrows, curses flying in every direction.
Some cried out in pain.
Some shouted in fury at having their feet crushed.
Some turned and tried to flee.
The presence or absence of real combat experience revealed itself in that instant.
The militia of Anyang County, who had never known such battle, collapsed after a single volley.
It was not that they lacked bows, but they held them loosely, uncertain how to use them.
Their range did not even reach the halted Baekryongdae.
They could only endure the assault.
When no effective return fire came, the Baekryongdae loosed another round.
This time they aimed at the bridge.
The soldiers strung out across it plunged into chaos even before the arrows struck.
In that narrow space, with nowhere to evade, they took the storm head-on.
Some leapt over the sides into the water below.
They had meant to close in and overwhelm by numbers, yet they crumbled before even reaching engagement.
"Return fire!"
The shout rose from the far side of the bridge, yet almost no one answered it.
A few arrows flew, but they did not reach even the enemy's feet.
The range was different.
Gagyeongpil's strategy struck true.
Arrows poured down at the bridge directly before Anyang Fortress, where no one had expected an assault.
Those crossing and those halted mid-span alike became fixed targets.
The screams of the wounded deepened the panic.
It was the collapse typical of men who had never tasted war.
As the Baekryongdae began nocking again, a portion of the militia at the front rushed forward.
A junior officer at their head must have issued the order.
They sought to burst out from the bridge and fight hand to hand rather than be slaughtered upon it.
Gagyeongpil sent another measured volley toward the bridge and waited for the front line to advance.
He watched for the moment when the charging men would spread out to gain space.
Seeing dozens massing in the center, Sowoon smiled faintly.
"I will go."
"Good. Do well. Leave the rear to us."
Two unit leaders closed tight to his flanks.
Yang Johwi did not entirely trust Sowoon.
Entrusting the vanguard to someone so young sat poorly with him.
Yet an order was an order.
He drew his weapon and followed.
"Commander, I go."
This time he spoke to Gagyeongpil.
"Go. Do well."
That was the formal command.
"Brother, I go."
"Go, Yusaengwon."
He seemed intent on greeting everyone before the charge.
At his bright declaration they laughed and wished him victory.
Gagyeongpil raised the charge banner.
And again he shouted at full voice.
Even after raising the flag, he could not abandon the habit of roaring the order aloud.
"Charge! Charge! All the way! To the very end, you brats!"
As the enemy vanguard drew near, the Baekryongdae loosed one more volley straight ahead.
The charging men crumpled as though the wind had been knocked from them.
They possessed bows, yet they did not know how to use them in battle.
Scattered, individual shots served no purpose.
Just before collision, Sowoon spoke again.
"Brother, I go."
"Go then, Yusaengwon. Why wait?"
It was his first time standing as vanguard.
A trace of awkwardness brushed him.
He stowed his bow and drew his hwageuk.
It was the first time he had wielded it since fighting Gateukrip at Haran.
The long shaft was slender.
It had been crafted light for him when he was younger and lacked strength.
Now it felt light in his hands.
Lighter even than a wooden staff.