Chapter 340. The Great Battle of Hubodagang — Those Who Took Part
Baek Ingyeom pointed behind him.
More than twenty immortals had come with him.
Some had white beards.
Others still carried the unmistakable vigor of middle age.
Dust clung to the hems of their robes, dirt had settled on their scabbards, and bloodied mud had dried over their straw sandals and leather shoes.
Even standing in the middle of a battlefield, they looked like men who belonged beside rocks in a mountain valley.
Their eyes were clear.
Their shoulders were loose.
Their hands rested naturally near their sword hilts.
They had just cut through the Liao central army, yet their faces showed less the pride of men who had won great merit than the easy manner of elders who had traveled a long way simply to see a disciple.
They seemed lofty enough to have transcended the world, yet as comfortable as neighbors met at the entrance to a village.
Baek Ingyeom smiled.
"I had been thinking of leaving worldly affairs behind again, but when they heard you were fighting, everyone said we should come."
Youngwoo immediately dropped to the ground and bowed.
Dust touched his forehead, and the iron plates of his armor gave a low rattle.
"Thank you sincerely for coming all this way to help such a foolish junior."
Youngwoo's bow was a little awkward.
Dust covered his forehead, and the plates of his armor clinked softly.
But everyone could see how genuinely grateful he was.
That only made it more sincere.
The immortals watched him and each added a word.
"You've grown quite spirited."
"I hear you're a commander now. Impressive at your age."
"If we didn't come, who else would help you? Hahaha!"
Laughter spread among them.
Even amid the blood and dust of the battlefield, it sounded as relaxed as a drinking gathering in the mountains.
Youngwoo rose and peered toward the rear.
He seemed to be looking for someone.
Han Jiun saw him and smiled broadly.
"If you're looking for Senior Brother Oryang, he didn't come. He is still too young to bring to a battlefield like this."
Youngwoo looked disappointed.
"Ah. I had a few things I wanted to ask him."
Han Jiun pulled a folded sheet of paper from his robe.
"I had him write down the answers beforehand, so ask whatever you like."
Youngwoo's eyes widened.
"What? You knew what I was going to ask and had him write the answers already?"
Han Jiun waved the paper and laughed.
"He is Immortal Oryang, is he not? Hahaha!"
At that moment, Park Geunsu came riding toward them.
Ten thousand men of his right army followed behind.
At first they looked like a long line in the dust.
Then spearpoints, banners, and the outlines of armor emerged.
As hooves struck the winter field, low dust spread over the red loess road.
Above it rose the banners of Goryeo.
Park Geunsu returned at the head of the column.
He was not alone.
The Goryeo right army stretched behind him.
They had only just finished fighting.
White dust covered the horses' necks, and dirt and blood had dried across the soldiers' armor.
Even so, the formation had not broken.
Cavalrymen riding ahead secured the road first.
Behind them, spearmen and mounted archers entered slowly while maintaining their intervals.
Park Geunsu rode at the front.
Over dark lamellar armor he wore a deep navy battle robe, while the cheek guards of his helmet hung beside his face.
Lamellar armor: Armor made by lacing together small plates of iron or leather. The overlapping plates offered both protection and mobility and were widely used by Goryeo armies.
Red dust covered the iron plates over his shoulders and chest.
The hwando at his waist knocked softly against the saddle inside its scabbard.
His horse was exhausted as well.
It breathed out in long streams and settled heavily with every step of its forelegs.
Park Geunsu's back, however, remained straight.
The Goryeo army behind him carried a different kind of majesty from the clean order it had possessed before battle.
Now it bore the weight of an army returning from combat.
Black-lacquered lamellar armor was scratched in many places.
Dust had gathered in the red leather cords.
Sweat had dried white between the plates covering chest and shoulders.
Pieces of cloth worn by the saddle fluttered beneath the armored skirts.
Dried blood and dirt stained spearpoints.
Shield edges were rough with cuts and impact marks.
The great banners of Goryeo fluttered with torn ends in the wind, while the red military standards remained vivid through the dust.
The standard-bearers held the poles with tired arms.
The banners were stained with blood and dirt.
Their torn ends snapped beneath the winter light.
One glance was enough to know what sort of battlefield the Goryeo army had just crossed.
The cavalry moved their horses slowly.
After a battle, horses often tired before men did.
Their flanks rose and fell heavily.
Sweat had dried white beneath the winter wind.
Some limped from wounds to their legs.
Some riders loosened the reins and patted their horses' necks.
Men who had survived and horses that had survived were catching their breath together.
The Goryeo soldiers entered in silence.
Only moments before, they had been shouting as they pressed against the Liao left wing.
Now they conserved their voices and restored their ranks.
Squad leaders and formation officers quietly counted their men and checked for stragglers and wounded.
Mounted archers turned empty quivers behind their backs.
Spearmen gathered broken shafts and passed them aside.
The survivors looked briefly at one another.
Within those short glances were both the joy of victory and silence for those they had lost.
Park Geunsu's right army had arrived as reinforcements and helped push the battle toward victory.
They had pressed between the Liao left wing and center and prevented the road Youngwoo had opened from closing.
Had they arrived later, the Liao left wing might have joined the center in support.
But the Goryeo army held that ground, forcing the emperor's guards to endure pressure across a wider front.
Park Geunsu was returning after accomplishing exactly that.
As he reached the place where Youngwoo and Baek Ingyeom stood, he pulled on the reins.
The cavalry behind him stopped in succession.
The sound of ten thousand men halting together was enormous.
Hooves scraped the earth.
Bits rattled.
Iron plates touched one another.
As the noise faded, the Goryeo army stood in a long, ordered line.
It was the sight of an army returning from battle and restraining the excitement of victory.
Park Geunsu dismounted.
Exhaustion lay heavily on his face, but the light of battle still remained in his eyes.
He saw Youngwoo and grinned.
Relief, pride, and simple joy at having arrived in time were all mixed into that smile.
"So you're alive."
It was a short sentence.
But it contained the whole reason Park Geunsu had come.
Youngwoo smiled brightly in return.
Behind them, the red banners of Goryeo moved slowly in the winter wind.
Han Jiun opened one hand toward Park Geunsu.
"He was your comrade, was he not?"
Youngwoo answered immediately.
"He is my elder brother."
"Oh? Is that so?"
Youngwoo took several steps forward.
The legs that had been tearing through enemy lines only moments earlier now seemed strangely awkward, as though the strength had finally begun to leave them.
"Brother."
Park Geunsu's eyes widened.
"Yi Youngwoo!"
The two embraced.
Armor struck armor with a dull sound, and blood and dust rubbed onto each other's shoulders.
The So Cheolryong brothers followed and bowed to Park Geunsu.
At the end of the battlefield, men long separated finally met again.
Park Geunsu slapped Youngwoo on the back and spoke lightly.
"Of all the places you could have gone, why did you have to come all the way out here and start fighting wars?"
Youngwoo gave a small laugh.
"That is exactly what I have been asking myself."
Park Geunsu looked him up and down.
"You're not hurt anywhere?"
Youngwoo pursed his lips.
"General Park is saying everything I wanted to ask first. It was a rough battle. Are you hurt anywhere, Brother?"
Park Geunsu shrugged.
"I'm perfectly fine. You're the one I always worry about, looking so frail and weak."
The people around them laughed.
But Park Geunsu's eyes were not laughing entirely.
Youngwoo was red all over.
Blood had spread through the gaps in his armor, over the ends of his sleeves, across his neck, and even along the thighs where they had rubbed against the saddle.
He looked like a man who had ridden through the very center of the enemy army.
Countless deaths had stained his body.
Youngwoo held up his palm.
"It isn't my blood."
Park Geunsu snorted.
"That is what everyone says. Hm. Still, you really do look unhurt. You come back drenched in blood and expect people not to worry."
Youngwoo looked regretfully in the direction the Liao army had fled.
"If I had gone just a little farther, I could have caught the emperor. He was unbelievably good at slipping away."
Park Geunsu burst out laughing.
"Puhuhu. If you didn't say it yourself, no one would know. As if anyone can just go around catching emperors."
Youngwoo laughed too.
"That's exactly the problem. He looked close enough to catch, then slipped away. Then he seemed far off, but there he was again right in front of me. Almost caught, never caught. Almost there, never quite there. It was just like the state examinations."
"Puhuhu. They say you're some great master, so why are you covered head to toe in blood? Look at the elders from the mountains. They're all clean."
"I just can't seem to manage that. They always burst right in front of me."
Blood, dust, exhaustion, and emptiness all came over them at once.
But Park Geunsu's laughter made it all feel a little lighter.
Words shared between men who had survived were often loose and foolish like that.
And warm.