Surged ahead at the very front.
"Hyah!"
He dug in his heels and surged ahead at the very front.
The enemy vanguard, already collapsing under arrows, seemed to rush toward him in sharp clarity.
He felt as though he could hear their breathing.
The hoofbeats of the Baekryongdae thundered down the slope.
Dry earth shattered and scattered behind them, and a low tremor ran along the ground to the bridge.
The enemy at the front felt that tremor first.
Soldiers crossing the bridge shoved one another.
The front was blocked, the rear pressed forward.
On the narrow span, formation had already disintegrated.
"Shields up!"
"Push! Push!"
Shouts tangled together.
Shields did not rise in time, and spears failed to find their direction.
The first volley poured down from the ridge.
When Gagyeongpil lowered his hand, the two ranks of archers released at once.
Short, heavy bursts of air-splitting sound struck in succession.
Two soldiers on the bridge snapped backward simultaneously.
Arrows drove between neck and collarbone.
One fell straight into the water; the other caught on the railing, thrashing in midair.
Sowoon clenched the saddle with both legs and thrust his hwageuk forward.
The man charging at him clutched his chest and toppled backward.
With a short turn of the shaft, Sowoon swept sideways—his opponent's neck parted.
Red blood erupted upward.
The soldier behind him stumbled and fell in shock.
Sowoon drew the weapon back in one smooth motion, set the haft forward, and spun it like a windmill.
Three more rushing men collapsed at once.
They had run straight into death.
Five fell in the first clash.
The men behind faltered.
Fear drove them to recoil.
Sowoon plunged deep among those stepping back, cutting left and right.
Behind him, the two unit leaders stabbed wildly with their crescent blade and spear.
The eyes of the charging Baekryongdae burned with ferocity.
A gap opened at the front.
Gagyeongpil shouted, "Spread! Open the space!"
The cavalry fanned outward, forming a half-circle.
The enemy stretched long across the bridge, the center hollowing out.
Sowoon drove straight into that opening.
He spurred forward and spun the hwageuk in a wheeling arc.
Driving a triangular wedge deep into the line was the foundation of mounted combat.
The two leaders at his shoulders swung their long weapons, guarding his flanks.
Militia who had never seen real battle scrambled backward.
As they retreated, their formation split into two.
The wedge forced open space, pressed inward, and widened it further.
A bluish sheen flickered along the blade's edge like ghostly fire.
Enemy spears splintered under its sweep; shields flew aside.
A strike onto thick armor severed arms and tore through necks.
With another hard kick, his horse surged several paces forward.
The enemy vanguard broke.
Men scattered in every direction.
Like a sea parting left and right, their line opened wide.
Sowoon wheeled the blade toward the fleeing mass; the disordered troops collapsed helplessly.
Those who had crossed the bridge split to either side.
The Baekryongdae advanced with practiced mounted skill, driving low-set enemies aside.
Men who had crossed the river scattered or fell.
Sowoon reached the bridge entrance.
The span was still packed with soldiers.
Though many had already fallen, more were driven forward from behind.
He rode up onto the bridge.
The hands thrusting spearheads toward him trembled without strength.
"Yusaengwon! Advance!"
Sowoon angled the hwageuk and charged like Guan Yu himself.
"Uuuuuuaaah!"
The bluish aura flared longer, brighter.
He swept left and right, cutting and stabbing.
Men were struck down or leapt from the bridge in terror.
Fear spread.
Across the bridge, panic erupted before contact was even made.
Archers fired wildly into their own front ranks.
They shot forward without aim.
Their arrows felled their own comrades—yet they kept shooting.
Sowoon sensed that lingering would cost lives.
His men following behind could suffer from that chaos.
He drove forward, swinging the hwageuk with relentless force.
At the bridge's end, more than a dozen soldiers formed a tight circular defense and thrust their spears at once.
The space narrowed like a bottleneck.
Sowoon spun the weapon in a great arc, deflecting the thrusts, then brought it down from above, splitting the center.
The two unit leaders joined him.
The far side of the bridge began to collapse as well.
The Baekryongdae struck harder than before—power in every blow, precision in every strike, each attack decisive.
The enemy's central front—three hundred packed tight—gave way.
Sowoon did not seek slaughter.
He struck, shattered, and pushed through.
His wings sealed the opening behind him.
A wagon reinforced with wooden planks rolled forward.
The new regional commander had devised it to block arrows.
Against arrows, it served its purpose.
Against a charge, it failed.
When Sowoon rushed it, the commander leapt down.
The wagon could shield from shafts, not from a mounted assault.
He tried to mount a tethered horse, saw the Baekryongdae bearing down, and fled toward the walls of Anyang.
Sowoon swept aside shield and spear and pursued.
The commander's back lay open before him.
The man twisted and slashed wildly.
The distance did not reach.
It was the flailing of a frightened blade.
Sowoon struck his shoulder.
Yang Johwi's crescent blade followed, severing the neck.
The head, still in its helmet, spun away, blood spraying across the ground.
The soldiers shrieked and scattered in every direction.
The Baekryongdae pressed on.
They split and pierced the formation.
They drove through and scattered the enemy ranks.
Broken spears, scattered helmets, and blood-soaked shoes lay across the bridge.
The air hung heavy with the scent of iron and blood.
The Baekryongdae held their line.
One unhorsed, three wounded.
No mortal injuries.
Sowoon steadied his breath and looked back toward the ridge.
Morning sunlight now washed across the bridge.