Chương 36: Waterlogged

The next morning, four hundred Tai-shan Outer Disciples and their supply train marched southeast from the city, looking like they were determined to end the war right here. Following Commander Mok's orders, Mu-cheon's detachment fell into place at the rear of the column. The Tai-shan soldiers marched confidently. They moved eight abreast down the valley's main thoroughfare, their formation wide and intimidating.

To accommodate the unwieldy greatswords strapped across their backs, a generous gap was left between each file. The synchronized crunch of four hundred pairs of boots slamming into compacted gravel was deafening. But the illusion of invincibility didn't last long. As the days bled together, the landscape became increasingly hostile. It started with a light, uncomfortable drizzle that made marching harder and harder as it slowly saturated the earth.

Then the wide, relatively clear valley roads began to narrow as they pushed closer to Meng-shan territory. The ancient, old-growth trees that made up the surrounding forest crept closer to the edges of the path, eventually threatening to swallow it entirely. And worst of all, by the time they reached the Iron Creek junction, the drizzle had turned into a relentless, freezing downpour. Despite the miserable conditions, Lieutenant Shin continued executing Commander Mok's orders.

He found the choke point his superior had identified on the map: a stretch of road sitting on a slight incline just ahead of the branch path that led to the mine. The slope wasn't extreme, but if the Meng-shan wanted to pass this spot, they'd have to fight their way uphill. A few tents, a temporary command station, and some simple wooden overhangs – mainly intended to keep the archers dry – were set up at the high point.

When the scouts indicated the Meng-shan column was drawing close, the Lieutenant ordered his men to take up defensive positions. The Tai-shan warriors were spaced out across the gravel road in ranks of five, leaving barely enough room between them to swing their greatswords. To prevent the enemy from sneaking past their flanks, two additional men were stationed on the extreme edges of the path, their boots sinking awkwardly into the muddy earth.

The rest of the battalion was stretched out behind them, row after row of determined disciples waiting to step forwards and replace the fallen. Standing near the top of the incline, beneath the heavy canvas of the temporary command tent, Chae-ha, Mu-cheon, and Tae-seok watched the road ahead.

"Here they come," Elder Eom muttered into the downpour. Through a gray sheet of rain, a wall of moving forms slowly materialized. Their bright purple silks contrasted vividly with the greens and browns of the forest. They stood twelve abreast, their shoulders practically touching, projecting a bristling wall of iron-tipped spears backed up by small bucklers. Behind the first row of spearmen was a second, and then a third.

The column looked like an endless, undulating tide, disappearing around the bend of the mountain road. The archers nocked their bows and began releasing arrows, but they were fighting two enemies at once – the Meng-shan, and the rain. Some arrows did find their targets, and here and there, a spearman fell. But the losses were simply absorbed by the mass of troops, and it wasn't long until the two battalions collided. The Tai-shan soldiers did their best to sever spear shafts and eviscerate the men behind them.

But even with greatswords, they were out-ranged. And to make matters worse, the Meng-shan had another advantage: their reach meant they could fight in multiple ranks. For every swordsman swinging down, there were at least three spearmen thrusting up. The thunderous crack of steel splintering wood and the agonized screams of dying men both echoed through the gloom. Finding complex strategies unnecessary, the enemy column simply locked their shields together, braced their spears, and pushed forwards.

Slowly, step by step, the Tai-shan soldiers were driven back up the hill.

"Hold the line!" Lieutenant Shin roared from the front, dispatching reserves down the muddy slope to plug the gaps.

"Hold!" But it wasn't meant to be. On the far-right flank, a Tai-shan warrior planted his foot to swing his greatsword. But the mud in the ditch betrayed him, refusing to suction and causing his boot to slip instead. The torque of his own swing threw him off balance; he fell to his knees. His life ended when three spears plunged into his chest. If that was all that had happened, the line might have held. But the reserve who tried to step up and plug the gap never made it.

He dropped dead three strides away, the fletching of a stray Tai-shan arrow protruding from the back of his skull. The Meng-shan began to curl around the side of their formation, and the orderly Tai-shan line began to buckle. The greatswordsmen in the center were suddenly squeezed together as their opponents pushed in on them from the side. Stripped of the horizontal space they needed to fight, the Tai-shan warriors began tripping over each other, their beloved Dae-jik-do becoming dangerous liabilities.

A few began scrambling backwards, seeking space. Back at the crest of the hill, Tae-seok crossed his arms, a grimace on his face.

"The line is collapsing. They need to sacrifice some space and re-establish themselves, or this will turn into a rout. But it's going to be hard to even get the order to them, with command all the way back here." This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings. Chae-ha's mind raced as she tracked the horrifying casualty rate. They had lost thirty men already. If they stayed to fight a losing battle, they risked losing the entire battalion.

Four hundred men was a third of the their overall forces in the region. If a third of the Vanguard died here today, the Tai-shan wouldn't just lose the mine. The eastern front would risk full collapse. Chae-ha turned and addressed the grizzled elder.

"It's even worse than that, Elder Eom. Let's say they do somehow manage to fall back and re-establish the line. And let's say that afterwards, we kill two of them for every one of us who falls. Let's further add that we protect the mine successfully." The young Inspector's expression was grim.

"Even with all of that, this engagement is still our loss. We can't be trading troops with them like this! A war is fought with men, not mines – and in a battle of attrition, we will eventually be worn down to nothing. This entire strategy is deeply flawed." Tae-seok's eyes narrowed, but he stroked his chin thoughtfully.

"Are you saying you have a better one?"

"Retreat, right now. Preserve our fighting forces. Then do exactly what you said, but on a larger scale. Sacrifice some space – and establish a better line of defense." Their discussion on the possibility was rendered largely pointless as the line continued to crumble. What had been an orderly series of ranks began to devolve into a chaotic mess. And as it did, the slaughter intensified. Chae-ha and Tae-seok shared a look. This was no longer a salvageable situation, and a full-on rout was looking inevitable.

The young girl looked over at Lieutenant Shin, trying to gauge his reaction. But the man kept blindly ordering more troops to the front. Motivated to try and stop the insanity, Chae-ha stormed away from the cover of the tent and grabbed his arm as he was about to scream at a group of reserves.

"Lieutenant, please. You have to order a retreat! The lines are collapsing, and the stakes here aren't just the Iron Creek junction anymore. What happens to the war effort if this column dies?"

"I have my orders. You stay out of it!" Lieutenant Shin pushed past her, clearly displeased with her interference.

"You lot – go down there and reinforce the right flank!"

"I know it's not what was planned, but please: give up the mine. Your men are worth more than some dot on a map!" The man whirled around to face her, his face flushed with anger.

"Who are you to tell me what the lives of my men are worth?!" He pushed her back into the command tent, his voice lowering dangerously.

"You're an accountant, not an officer. You keep your pretty little head safe in here – and let me do my job." Chae-ha stared at the man. His combination of stubbornness and panic was going to get all of them killed. As Lieutenant Shin spun around, ready to march back out into the storm, Chae-ha turned her gaze to the old general standing nearby.

"Elder Eom, if we force a retreat right now, can your troops hold the line and safely disengage?" Tae-seok hesitated but gave her a nod.

"They can." Hardening her resolve, the young girl slipped her hand into a soaked sleeve. Her fingers found the familiar, comforting steel of a bookbinding needle." Sin-gyeong-jeom," Chae-ha whispered.

"Nerve Strike: Ramus Auricularis." With a controlled flick of her wrist, she drove the needle into the notch behind the Lieutenant's ear, impacting the vagus nerve, which carries sensation to and from the brain. The man stiffened in sudden pain, before fainting as his system was overcome with shock. Chae-ha looked around the room at Eom Tae-seok and Mu-cheon, both of whom were staring at her with their jaws open in surprise.

"Why are you just standing there, senior brother? He won't be out for long. We need to restrain him before he wakes." Mu-cheon stared at the unconscious commander, then looked back at Chae-ha. The resulting sigh seemed like it might shake the tent more than the wind outside was already doing. The Young Master hauled the unconscious lieutenant over his shoulder and tossed him in the back of a supply wagon. Grabbing some cord from amongst the supplies, he tied the man's hands and feet.

When he finally turned around, Chae-ha was waiting for him.

"We are officially out of time, senior brother. Let's show the troops the voice that made you famous." She turned to Tae-seok.

"Elder, can your troops hold the line while we organize the retreat?" The old veteran nodded and went to round up his men.

"Take the girl seriously," he muttered into the wind. Once his personal detachment was organized into a defensive position at the top of the incline, Mu-cheon stepped out in front of them. He drew his own Dae-jik-do and slammed it point-first into the earth. Taking a deep breath, the Young Master invoked the fourth mnemonic of the Chuk-ap-gyeol, before once again forcing open the Tian Tu point in his throat. The resulting roar echoed easily across the entire battlefront, blasting through the din of battle.

"I AM KANG MU-CHEON, HEIR TO THE TAI-SHAN! LIEUTENANT SHIN IS DOWN. WE ARE ORDERING A RETREAT!" The deafening scream hung in the air, followed by a moment of absolute stillness. Then, as if in slow motion, the Tai-shan ranks broke. The battered, soggy reserves turned and began scrambling up the incline with varying degrees of panic, leaving the ones who were unable to escape the thrust of the spears to their fate. The steady march of the Meng-shan column continued, slow and seemingly unstoppable.

When the last of the fleeing troops had passed, Mu-cheon looked over his shoulder.

"Elder!" he yelled, ripping his sword from the mud.

"Already on it, Young Master," Tae-seok grunted. The retired general drew his own blade and signaled his elite detachment. Fifty veteran warriors stepped forwards, forming a physical wall across the middle of the incline to cover the retreating men. Mu-cheon took his place directly beside the Elder, his blade humming as the Meng-shan vanguard finally crested the hill to meet them. The chaos caused by the disorganized retreat through the camp was worse than she had expected.

Throngs of men pushed and pulled their way past each other and past Chae-ha, panicked and desperate to escape the slaughter. From somewhere in the madness she was shoved hard in the shoulder, knocking her towards the edge of the road and close to the edge of the forest. As her hands met the ground, she looked up and saw him. A single Meng-shan scout, who had clearly gone around the road and through the woods in order to spy on their camp, was crouched in the bushes. Staring at her.

Chae-ha's heart hammered in her chest. The young girl glanced down at her soaked robes, plastered tightly against her skin. Then she looked back at the Meng-shan scout, who seemed to be reaching for his weapon. She hadn't told Mu-cheon this, because his reaction would have been predictable, but there was one additional problem that she, personally, was facing. A problem that the Inner Disciple would definitely have picked up on, if he'd ever stopped to think about it.

Chae-ha willed herself not to succumb to the instinct to panic. Her Phantom Steps didn't work in the rain.