253.
The Internal Uprising, and Park Seong-jin's Suppression
Early spring in Hwajuh was unusually hot.
Heat from the season ahead shimmered above the city walls.
In the marketplace, the smell of burning grain mixed with blood, drifting like smoke.
A warehouse roof burst as flames devoured it, and through that blaze rose a roar of voices.
"Long live the darughachi!"
"Return the law of the Empire!"
"Park Jungnangjang kills the people!"
They were false cries.
Yet few could discern the direction of a cry once it was loosed.
Startled children and women spilled into the alleys.
Soldiers guarding the granary rushed in confusion toward the gates.
"The south gate has been breached!"
The courier's voice tore through the air.
Park Seong-jin donned his armor without hesitation.
Not silk, but the worn battle gear he had worn at Hwajuh before.
Its weight held iron—and the memory of responsibility.
"Song I-sul. Jong-hui."
His words were brief.
"Hold the north gate. I'll take this side."
As he mounted his horse, a warehouse collapsed behind him.
Flames dyed the night sky red.
Before the gate, a mass of people hammered with crowbars and clubs.
Merchants from the market, day laborers, and those shoved forward by force were all mixed together—
a crowd pushed by money and words.
"Open the gate in the name of the Empire!"
"If you want to live, hand over Park Nangjang!"
Park Seong-jin raised his bow.
The first arrow was not aimed at a man.
It cut the air and struck deep into the ground.
It was not an arrow to fell, but a signal to halt.
His voice carried beyond the fire.
"This is the land of Goryeo.
After a hundred years of bondage, we have only just broken free.
Do not fasten chains around your own necks again."
For a heartbeat, silence fell.
Then, from the darkness, a stone flew.
It grazed his shoulder and fell.
Spears and clubs followed.
Their eyes were soaked not with reason, but with menace.
"Attack!"
Park Seong-jin drew his sword.
Each swing rang louder with steel striking steel than with flesh being cut.
He avoided vital points.
He pushed rather than cut, knocked down rather than thrust.
The blade brushed skin; the scabbard moved like a shield.
He struck with the flat of the sword.
Fearing broken bones, he avoided shoulders and flanks as well.
Preserve life, and govern.
Yi In-jung's words crossed his mind.
But reality was cruel.
From behind, Song I-sul's fire arrows flew.
The rebels' banner burned first.
Flames leapt to dry cloth and sacks of grain.
When the wind surged once, embers scattered across the entire market.
Smoke pressed low, and by dusk the ground before the gate was strewn with fallen bodies.
Yet it was not the end.
Those who remained scattered into the city.
They set fires and fled.
"They're heading for the magistrate's hall!"
At Jong-hui's shout, Park Seong-jin turned.
He ran across blood-soaked earth, his footsteps heavy.
His breath grew short, but he did not stop.
The moment one stops, fire ceases to be fire and becomes rumor.
Before the hall, two men were locked in a struggle amid the flames.
One, his face smeared with blood, shouted,
"This land belongs to Yuan! We return to the Empire!"
Park Seong-jin raised his sword.
"Did that Empire protect you?"
As the blade fell, blood and smoke burst together.
Park Seong-jin steadied his breath and looked around.
Everything was burning.
Hwajuh had become a battlefield once more.
"Put out the fires!" he shouted.
"Save the people first!"
Soldiers ran for the wells.
The clash of buckets, screams, and the crackle of fire intertwined.
The sky glowed red.
The moon rising through the smoke looked as though it had swallowed blood.
Civil war is chaos.
Friend and foe are hard to tell apart.
Only as dawn approached did the fighting end.
Park Seong-jin sat atop the city wall.
Morning mist spread across the fields.
Within it, broken cries lingered faintly.
He listened to them as they were.
"Is this… the peace I sought?"
The words scattered low on the wind.
Beside him lay Yi In-jung's letter.
A nation can be raised by the sword,
but if it is not guarded by the heart,
it will soon burn away.
Park Seong-jin repeated the line in silence.
He folded the paper and slipped it into his robe,
then looked out beyond the wall.