Rediscovered Sword Control - 2
Gukwang thought they had spent too much time engaging with the ambush party. In the morning, they had deployed almost immediately upon receiving the orders from Captain Gwanji, so if they had waited for the main force and the remaining two thousand-men divisions, it would have taken much longer to prepare. They had also traveled a significant distance—140 li—with remarkable speed upon discovering the enemy. However, they had now wasted so much time that Gukwang's division was likely only 10 to 40 li behind the main force. If the gap closed further, his 30 remaining riders wouldn't be able to conduct proper reconnaissance. Because of this, Gukwang urged his tired soldiers to push forward quickly.
When they had pursued for around 60 li, they saw a large group of people coming from the front. Glancing at them, Imchung spoke up.
"From this distance, it's hard to be sure, but judging by their appearance, they seem like refugees. However, they might also be an enemy unit disguised as refugees, so we should check it out quickly."
"Good idea. Stay here and secure our retreat. I'll take 10 riders and investigate. Even if a skirmish breaks out, do your best to secure our escape route rather than jumping into the fight."
"Yes, sir."
Imchung was one of the most senior soldiers in the division alongside Mahwa, and now that Mahwa had left, he naturally assumed the role of deputy commander. Imchung glanced at the rest of the division and then called out.
"Charim!"
From the rear, a warrior clad in blood-stained armor rushed forward. His armor bore the inscription "469 (Saryukgu)." Charim, though young, was a highly skilled swordsman with sharp eyes.
"Yes, sir?"
"Take nine men and follow the captain."
"Yes, sir. All nine of you, follow me."
As Gukwang neared the group, which resembled a line of refugees, everyone stayed alert, ready for a potential ambush. But as they got closer, it became clear that there was no need for concern. These were genuine refugees.
They were leading herds of horses and sheep, their carts packed with belongings, moving along with faces full of despair. There were no young men among them—only elderly men, women, and children. Gukwang approached an elderly man and asked, "Where are you heading?"
The old man, startled to hear a Chinese man in black armor suddenly speaking in Mongolian, hesitated for a moment before answering obediently, "We're heading toward the Kunlun River, sir."
"Why?"
"The war started near the Jinlyeong River…"
"What's the name of your tribe?"
"We are the Tajik tribe, my lord."
"Tajik? Aren't you part of the Jiwul tribe?"
The old man's eyes filled with fear as he stammered a response. "N-no, we're not. We live in Jiwul territory, but we are not close to the Jiwul tribe, my lord."
Gukwang stared at him with suspicion. "Is that so? Have I misunderstood?"
"You have, my lord."
"Fine, it doesn't matter. Have you encountered about 7,000 Mongolian soldiers passing through here?"
"No, my lord, we haven't."
"Where are you coming from?"
"We're coming from Ulan Tor, my lord."
"Ulan Tor? Then you very well might have crossed paths with them."
He glanced over the group of refugees. The number of men and horses seemed far too few for a tribe this size.
The men probably left with the horses to join up with the enemy. Judging by the number of women here, there must be about a thousand of them.
"Very well, it seems this doesn't concern me. Leave this area as quickly as possible. Lingering here won't do you any good. Charim!"
"Yes."
"Tell Imchung to move forward. Let's go."
The trail left by 7,000 soldiers across the steppe was impossible to miss, unless covered by a heavy snowstorm or rain. As long as they didn't mix up the trail with that of the Tajik tribe, there wouldn't be any issues with their pursuit. Gukwang pushed his men hard, making them follow the trail for about 250 li (approximately 100 kilometers) until they finally caught sight of the enemy's rear. Gukwang maintained a distance of 20 li (about 8 kilometers) from the enemy, carefully leading his division in pursuit.
The enemy covered another 100 li that day, eventually camping in a Mongolian village that housed around 3,000 families. That night, Captain Gwanji's main force joined Gukwang's reconnaissance unit.
Captain Gwanji realized that the enemy had slowed down, likely because they were counting on the ambush party of about 1,000 men they had left behind. He praised Gukwang for managing to catch up with the enemy and began discussing the upcoming battle with his commanders. The plan was to station five hundred-man divisions in ambush positions along the enemy's retreat path, while the remaining 25 divisions would launch a surprise attack at dawn. Gukwang's 30 men, at his request, were assigned to join the ambush party.
At dawn, as the 25 divisions launched their attack, Gukwang lay on the steppe with his men and watched from afar. Flames erupted all around, and a fierce battle began. The untrained Mongols were caught by surprise, so the outcome was predictable. It was not a battle, but a one-sided massacre. The Imperial Black Wind Brigade annihilated the remnants of the enemy forces and destroyed the Jiwul tribe's village that had aided them.
Though the enemy tried to flee in all directions, the five ambush divisions ensured none escaped.
By the time the battle ended, the sun was high in the sky. Under the command of the three thousand-men captains, all the wounded Mongolian soldiers and prisoners were executed. As for the villagers who had helped the enemy, all the men were killed, sparing only the young women and children. Everywhere, there were scenes of murder, arson, rape, and looting. The village had turned into a living hell, a graveyard littered with countless corpses.
Gukwang and his 30 men stayed at their ambush site, keeping a distance from the village. He had never imagined that the Imperial Black Wind Brigade, the elite force of the Song Empire, would conduct such a cruel and brutal campaign. Even from afar, he could clearly see what was happening in the village, with smoke still rising from various parts. Crossing his arms, Gukwang watched the scene intently and muttered softly, as if speaking to Imchung or maybe to himself.
"Is it really necessary to wage war to this extent...?"
As if understanding Gukwang's inner thoughts, Imchung replied, "There's no other choice. The Mongols are a strong people. If we don't show them this kind of fierce punishment, they might rebel again at any time."
"Still, they aren't soldiers. To treat civilians like this…"
Noticing Gukwang's expression, Imchung changed the subject. There was no point in dwelling on such matters.
"Commander, what should we do? The other hundred-man divisions that were in ambush are all participating in the looting. We're the only ones staying away."
"Hmm…"
Gukwang thought for a moment and then raised his voice to ask his men, "Does anyone want to join the looting?"
The soldiers exchanged glances but shook their heads. In truth, it wasn't because they lacked interest in plundering but because they were bound by the strict orders of their commander. Besides, looting the Mongol tribes didn't yield much value, and Mongol women weren't considered particularly beautiful. Due to the cold, they rarely bathed, making any potential "fun" unappealing.
Gukwang scanned the faces of his men. "There's no point in lingering here. Notify Captain Gwanji that we're pulling back. It's better to rejoin the main army and rest. I've also informed Mahwa, so if we're lucky, we might even get some good wine. Has Captain Gwanji's unit moved yet?"
Upon hearing the mention of wine, the men's eyes lit up with anticipation. They looked at Gukwang with admiration. Imchung, standing beside him, smiled and answered his question.
"They haven't moved yet."
"Good. Send a messenger to Gwanji and let him know we're retreating. Tell him it's to prepare for a potential enemy ambush, and he'll allow it."
"Yes, sir."
"And don't forget to ask when we'll be leaving this hellhole. I need to report back to the commander."
"Yes, sir."
As the messenger hurried off, Gukwang and his unit prepared to head back to the main force. Gukwang had no desire to stay in the blood-soaked village any longer. Unlike their pursuit, the retreat was leisurely, as everyone was eager to get back, drink plenty of wine, and enjoy a well-deserved rest. The thought naturally quickened their pace.
After traveling about 400 li, Gukwang noticed a strong stench of blood in the air.
"How far are we from the ambush site?"
"We've traveled about 400 li, so we still have a ways to go…"
"Then what's that smell of blood? We haven't fought any battles around here."
"Huh? The smell of blood? I don't smell anything."
"Is that so? I couldn't have mistaken it... Anyway, let's pick up the pace."
As Gukwang and his men advanced about five more li, they came across a grisly scene. Scattered everywhere were numerous corpses, charred remnants of wagons, fallen horses, sheep, and various goods. Gukwang stood there, staring blankly at the sight. Imchung, noticing what had happened, nodded in understanding.
"It's the Tajik tribe we encountered earlier. Looks like Captain Gwanji's follow-up unit was responsible. They probably sent some of the prisoners and loot back to the main camp already."
"..."
"There's nothing we can do by standing here, is there? We can't bury all these bodies either. Let's move on."
"Let's go…"
When they arrived at the main camp, it was still stationed in the same place. As soon as Gukwang arrived, Mahwa rushed out to greet him.
"You're all safe. The fight with the remaining enemies must've been easy, right?"
Gukwang's expression remained grim, so Imchung chimed in, "The Mongol soldiers were ambushed at dawn while camping in the village. Of course, it was easy. So, did you manage to get the booze?"
"Don't even get me started. You wouldn't believe how much trouble I went through to get it…"
"Don't tell me it's that mare's milk wine again? Just the smell of that stuff makes me want to throw up. I can't believe people actually drink that."
Mare's milk wine, or airag, is a traditional Mongolian alcoholic beverage made from fermented mare's milk. It's relatively mild but has a strange smell and a sour, tangy taste, making it difficult for people from the Central Plains to drink without getting nauseous. Yet, the Mongols gulped it down by the bowlful, practically living on it as part of their regular diet.
"Who drinks it for the taste? It's all about getting drunk. But no, it's sorghum liquor this time. Since we've been here a while, I finally managed to get some. How about it?"
Hearing the mention of sorghum liquor, Imchung swallowed hard and glanced at Gukwang. Predictably, Gukwang's throat also moved in response, showing that they were all just as eager for a drink. Real liquor from the Central Plains...
After surveying the surroundings for a moment, Gukwang turned back to Mahwa.
"There seem to be fewer people here."
"Yes, four of the thousand-man units are out there, ransacking the nearby villages. Mongol women and loot keep pouring in day after day. Honestly, even I feel like it's getting to be too much…"
"Spare me the complaints. Let's catch up later. I need to meet with the commander first."
"Alright, see you later. Come by Imchung's tent afterward."
"Got it."
After sending some sorghum liquor to his subordinates who had also endured hardships for so long, the captains gathered in Imchung's tent. As they toasted to their survival and celebrated their hard-earned respite, they indulged in long hours of drinking, appreciating the real taste of alcohol. The drinking session, which started shortly after lunch, didn't end until after sunset. By then, Gukwang and Imchung dragged out four passed-out ten-man squad captains, each carrying one on his shoulder. After tossing Mahwa into the nearby tent, Gukwang grumbled to Imchung.
"Why do these women drink so much when they can't even handle their alcohol?"
Imchung chimed in with agreement, "I know, right? If they weren't women, I wouldn't mind just passing out alongside them, but they drink like they want to take me down first and then just collapse. But, Captain!"
"What?"
"If you don't head back soon, won't Habuhr beat you up?"
"Habuhr?"
For a moment, Gukwang pondered the name. Then it struck him—Habuhr was a person, and she was staying in his tent. He chuckled bitterly.
"Damn, I completely forgot. If I brought her back, I should've been taking care of her... I hope she hasn't gotten too upset."
"You should go check on her quickly."
Gukwang tossed the person he had in his left arm into the tent and frowned.
"Yeah, I better go. Sleep well, see you tomorrow."
Imchung's teasing voice called out from behind him.
"You too, Captain. Don't wear yourself out too much just because it's been a while."
Gukwang said nothing in response.
When he arrived at his tent, he found Habuhr still awake, waiting for him. Even though it was late, and she had received only his armor and horse earlier—himself arriving much later, reeking of alcohol—she had every reason to be upset. Yet, when she saw Gukwang enter, she immediately ran over and threw herself into his arms. Gukwang embraced her and gently patted her back.
"Did you behave while I was gone?"
"..."
"Did you eat your meals on time?"
"..."
"Has anyone been bothering you?"
"..."
"Come on, say something. Don't just nod… Let me take a look at your face. I've forgotten what you even look like. How many days has it been?"
As Gukwang gently lifted her chin, he noticed tear streaks on her still-young face. While no one would dare mistreat her with his protection, the mere fact that she was stuck with fierce, wolf-like men who didn't speak her language might have been torment enough for her. Gukwang wanted to send her somewhere safer as soon as possible, but with four thousand-man units pillaging villages in the area, it would be hard to find any place to leave her.
He sighed softly and spoke with tenderness.
"Did you have dinner?"
She shook her head. It seemed she hadn't eaten, waiting for him all this time.
I've already stuffed myself with food and drink with my men, but... she's prepared this meal for me. I should eat with her, right? But… can I even eat more?
Gukwang lightly poked his stomach, checking if he could handle more food. Feeling a sliver of hope, he motioned to Habuhr.
"Alright, let's eat together."
Habuhr quickly brought over the food she had prepared in the Mongolian style. There were boiled lamb legs with the bone still in, a thick broth in a small bowl—Gukwang wasn't sure what it was made from, but it seemed like it was meant for dipping the meat into. And, of course, there was mare's milk wine. Two small knives were laid on the table.
So, I guess we use these to cut the meat? I'm more worried about whether my stomach can handle this...
Gukwang stared at the table with a hesitant expression but steeled his resolve and bravely moved closer.
I'm such a fool for keeping this kid with me...
As Gukwang sat down, Habuhr handed him one of the knives, then took her own and sat beside him. Mongolians, after catching animals, would sometimes boil them whole or in large chunks. Since the pieces were large, knives were an essential tool during meals. With everyone holding knives during a meal, sometimes fights would break out, even murders. Sharing a meal like this was a sign of great trust, as well as a show of courage.
There were two lamb legs—just enough for one each. Gukwang hesitated, unsure how to proceed, but Habuhr smiled softly and showed him how, holding the exposed bone and resting it on her sleeve. Gukwang mimicked her, holding his knife in a way that the blade faced himself, then sliced the meat and brought it to his mouth.
But he stopped short when he noticed the meat was still undercooked, with blood seeping out.
Oh no, it's raw! Well, they are nomads... It probably takes too long to fully cook something this big, so they just eat it half-done. Still... I've already picked up the knife. Might as well face it—can't die twice.
With grim determination, Gukwang cut into the meat like Habuhr and shoved it into his mouth.
Oh, gods. Why do I have to eat this? I must have committed a lot of sins before I lost my memory.
Despite his inner turmoil, Gukwang ate as though he was enjoying it, which made Habuhr smile with delight. The two exchanged light conversation as they "enjoyed" the blood-dripping meat together. Deciding it was better to end his suffering quickly, Gukwang downed the mare's milk wine in one gulp. Habuhr, noticing his empty cup, poured more for him.
"You must really like mare's milk wine."
"Yeah…"
I'm going to die at this rate.
"Take your time."
Not wanting to endure the meat alone, Gukwang took occasional sips of the wine as he casually probed for more information about Mongolian customs.
"Do you always boil your meat in Mongolia?"
"No, we also grill it sometimes."
"Grilled, huh? Let's grill it tomorrow then."
"Why? Don't you like it?"
"No, no, it's good. You cooked it perfectly. But no matter how delicious something is, you get tired of it if it's always the same. You've got to mix it up sometimes."
Habuhr smiled warmly.
"Yes, have more mare's milk wine. I've stocked up a lot."
Gukwang forced a smile.
"Good job..."
If I want to live, I need to get this girl out of here as soon as possible.