Chapter 246 — Outnumbered
More than a dozen men rushed in.
The narrow yard inside the prison was instantly filled with pounding feet and shouted curses.
The jailers came swarming all at once, without even taking the time to properly level their spears.
They thought he was only a prisoner bound with rope.
Yeongu stood with his back to the wall.
His wrists were tied behind him, and the rope bound his arms and shoulders together.
Since he could not use his upper body freely, he lowered his center of gravity and tested the ground with his toes.
The floor was wet earth mixed with straw and blood.
He first chose where his feet would slip and where they would hold.
The first man lunged.
Yeongu shifted half a step aside and lashed out with a side kick.
His heel struck the outside of the man's knee.
The knee folded sideways, and the man collapsed on the spot.
His scream was short, and the man behind him tripped over his body and pitched forward.
Yeongu stepped on the fallen man's back and lifted his body.
The next man's face came close.
Yeongu's instep rose diagonally and whipped across his cheek.
It was a slap delivered with the foot.
A sharp crack rang out, the man's head snapped aside, and blood and teeth flew from his mouth.
A spear shaft came in from the left.
Yeongu folded his upper body, let the shaft pass, and stepped on the spear haft with the tip of his foot.
The man gripping the spear tried to pull it free.
At that instant, Yeongu snapped out a splitting kick.
His toe drove into the inside of the man's thigh.
The man's leg gave out, and his knee hit the floor.
Yeongu followed with a heel that lifted the man's jaw.
The man fell backward and struck his head against the wall.
Three men came at once.
One tried to grab his waist, one shoved at his shoulder, and one went around behind him to seize his bound arms.
Yeongu first kicked the shin of the one reaching for his waist.
He hooked the leg like a fishing gaff and pulled.
The man's foot rose into the air.
As the man's body tilted, Yeongu twisted his shoulder.
The man drove forward under his own force and smashed his chin into the floor.
The one behind him caught the rope around Yeongu's arms.
Yeongu lowered his body and raised his heel.
His heel crushed down on the man's instep.
There was the sound of bone giving way.
The moment the man let go, Yeongu turned and threw a roundhouse kick.
His bound arms swung behind his torso, and his leg swept high at waist level.
The edge of his foot skimmed the side of the man's temple.
The man's eyes went slack, and he folded sideways to the ground.
The sound inside the prison changed.
At first, it had been the sound of men rushing in to subdue one prisoner.
Now it was the sound of men shoving, dodging, and struggling to find space.
The jailers' curses mixed with their breathing, and the groans of the fallen crawled up from the floor.
Yeongu took short, broken breaths.
The kicking techniques of taekkyeon, learned since childhood, remained in his body.
Advanced swordsmanship required a master, money, and time.
But fist-and-foot methods cost little.
The Goryeo army's training had that foundation as well.
It looked like soldiers gathering every morning to loosen their bodies, but inside those movements lay the methods of pushing, hooking, kicking, and throwing men down.
Loosely learned striking and grappling had clear limits.
It rarely bit deep against armored soldiers, and it was hard to close in against a line of leveled spears.
But these jailers had no proper armor, and they had underestimated a prisoner, charging in with their bodies first.
At that moment, a single kick was faster than a spear.
The fifth man rushed in at an angle.
Yeongu drove the sole of his foot into the man's stomach.
The man's body was shoved backward and blocked the two behind him.
In that opening, Yeongu swept low with his right foot.
The hook caught behind the shin and passed through.
Two men lost their balance together and collapsed in a tangle.
One man shortened his grip on a spear and thrust.
Yeongu pressed himself against the wall, then slipped out on a diagonal.
The spearhead tore past his clothing.
He immediately stepped inside the spear shaft.
His knee drove into the man's ribs.
There was another crack.
The man dropped the spear and folded over.
Yeongu shoved that body upright like a shield.
A club coming from behind struck the shoulder of the jailer's own comrade.
The struck man screamed, and the one who had swung the club froze.
Yeongu kicked at that frozen face with his toes lifted.
The chin snapped upward, and the man's eyes rolled white.
The remaining men hesitated.
That single beat of hesitation was enough for Yeongu.
He drove forward.
With his arms bound, the shape of his charge was rough, but his feet picked out only the weak points of men.
Knee, instep, inner thigh, ribs, jaw, temple.
Wherever his foot landed, a man folded, fell, or lost his breath.
After his breathing had crossed into the middle dantian, the power inside his body had changed.
Whenever he kicked, strength rose from his waist and abdomen.
It was not just the leg striking.
His whole body extended in one line.
His bound arms instead tightened his center.
Since his upper body did not scatter, the force at the tip of his foot struck even more cleanly.
The last man to rush in had already lost his nerve, but he could not stop.
He had been pushed forward from behind.
Yeongu saw his face and kicked low.
He struck the shin, and as the man fell, Yeongu drove him away with his shoulder.
The man rolled over the bodies of his fallen comrades.
The prison yard, where more than a dozen men had rushed in at once, soon filled with groaning bodies.
One clutched his knee and writhed.
One spat blood from his mouth.
One clawed at the floor, unable to breathe properly.
Yeongu stood with his back against the wall.
His wrists were still tied behind him.
But no one came at that bound prisoner again.
Yeongu raised his head, panting.
Blood ran down beside his lips.
His cheek had swollen, and the places where he had been struck in the stomach throbbed heavily.
He looked over the fallen jailers and muttered under his breath.
"I told you to do only what you were told."
About twenty men stood at a distance.
This time, they had bows.
With his hands free and a sword in his grip, he might have had a way.
Against concentrated shooting, there was no answer.
Yeongu lifted his head as if giving up.
Then he shouted loudly.
"I surrender!"
He walked back into the cell on his own.
The officer who had taken several blows shouted, panting with fury.
"Shoot! Shoot him, damn it!"
They at least had enough sense not to shoot a surrendered enemy.
One jailer came over and locked the cell door from the outside.
Only then did the archers lower their bows.
After the dozen or so groaning men were carried away, the prison finally fell quiet.
Straw lay scattered across the yard floor, and dark red blood had spread in several places.
Someone's tooth was lodged in the dirt, and a broken spear shaft had rolled against the wall.
Yeongu tried moving his wrists behind his back.
The rope was still tight.
A little while later, another man came.
He stood outside the cell door and looked in.
Unlike the jailers who had been beaten and dragged out, he was dressed rather neatly.
A small badge hung from his leather belt, and the iron plates of his armor were clean.
The skirt worn beneath his armor was silk.
He was rich.
What bothered Yeongu most was the man's queue.
The middle of his head was shaved bare, with short braided hair left on either side.
Because of that hair, his face looked even longer and sharper, and whenever he smiled he seemed less like a man than a strange beast wearing a mask.
A single hairstyle had made a person look like some grotesque animal.
The man raised one corner of his mouth.
"You're pretty good, Lord Jungnangjang."
Yeongu looked at him with an indifferent expression.
"Bring your superior."
The man's eyebrow twitched.
"I am the superior, you bastard."
Yeongu laughed briefly.
"This bastard can't understand words. I mean your superior."
"I told you, I'm the superior, you bastard."
The officer grabbed the door latch.
He looked ready to open it and come straight in.
But then he saw the blood on the floor, the broken spear shaft, and the traces left by the jailers who had been dragged away.
His hand stopped.
He must have decided that if he went in, he would be beaten.
He did not open the door.
Instead, he lowered his voice.
"Now then, talk. Why did you come here, Lord Jungnangjang?"
Somehow, he knew Yeongu's rank.
Some traitorous bastard must have told him.
Yeongu leaned his shoulder against the wall.
"I'll speak when your superior comes. I have nothing to say to you."
"I told you, I'm the superior."
"Someone higher. At the very least, bring someone from the Yelü clan or the Xiao clan."
The officer's face hardened.
Yeongu did not yield in the slightest.
"Bastards with no authority step forward and make a fuss as if they're something. The only thing you can do is stop me from escaping. And with that petty little authority, you think you can talk with me?"
He tried to lift his bound wrists slightly, but the rope caught at his shoulders and made him grimace.
"I walked here on my own feet and said I came to submit. I said so. But you tied me up and threw me in here right away. What conversation am I supposed to have with bastards who can't even judge that much?"
The officer clenched his teeth.
Yeongu lifted his chin.
"So bring your superior. If you really are the superior, then bring the superior above you."
"Fine. Who should I bring?"
Perhaps being outside the cell made him feel safe.
The bastard rested his chin on the wooden frame and seemed to think.
But he showed no sign of moving.
He did not seem likely to leave his post either.
Instead, he ordered a chair brought and sat down in front of the cell door.
Some fool must have ordered him to stay glued to the place and guard it.