297
Goryeo Camp — "Did We Push Too Far?"
Toward dusk, a heavy silence settled inside the Goryeo command tent.
The day's heat hadn't fully bled away, leaving the air damp and close.
Lanterns were lit earlier than usual.
Outside, the sounds of soldiers untying reins and stripping armor came in short, scattered bursts.
Inside sat Park Seong-jin, Song I-sul, Yi In-jung, and several clerks.
They had just finished debriefing the envoy's return.
Song I-sul spoke first.
"…Did we go too far with our words?"
His voice stayed low.
It wasn't caution speaking so much as blunt honesty.
"Mandate of Heaven. Heaven itself. The will of the people."
"That was deep water to wade into with Chen Youliang."
"He's a man who climbed by the sword. You think he'll just nod along?"
A clerk added carefully.
"It may have sounded… overly doctrinal. Too Daoist."
"In diplomacy, you leave room. If you deny the other man's worldview outright—"
Yi In-jung raised a hand, cutting him off.
"No. He did well."
His voice was firm.
"If we hadn't spoken like that, Chen would never have listened."
All eyes turned toward him.
Yi In-jung continued, slow and steady.
"Chen Youliang craves legitimacy.
He opens the world with a blade, but he wants someone to tell him that blade is right.
To a man like that, half-words are just noise."
Song I-sul nodded—but pushed back.
"Still. Today sounded less like an alliance… and more like a lecture."
"He won't forget that. He could take it as: Who are you to teach me?"
Only then did Park speak.
"And yet he didn't throw us out."
Quiet words—
but the air inside the tent shifted.
"If he'd erupted, it would've been easy.
He could've threatened us, and there'd have been no 'test.'
But he said he'd think more."
Park paused, then added,
"That means our words caught somewhere inside him."
One of the clerks asked,
"…So you pushed him on purpose?"
Park shook his head.
"Not deliberately.
But if we didn't go that far, this table never opens."
"Chen has no reason to link arms with Goryeo—our numbers are too small."
Song I-sul exhaled.
"Then the problem is what comes next.
If Chen goes into Zhang Shicheng already shaken, and they collide—
the sparks will fly into us."
"And Zhang is already pouring money into the river."
Yi In-jung nodded slowly.
"Money and violence.
All the more reason we can't retreat."
He looked at Park.
"Your words didn't go too far.
Our position is already too deep."
His gaze stayed steady.
"We passed the point of merely answering a request from the north."
"We want peace."
"And like you said—what we truly want is a threefold order:
the Yuan in the north, a unified Jiangnan, and Goryeo in the east."
He let out a breath, almost as if hearing his own conclusion for the first time.
"Only now is it clear."
"We aim to stabilize what can still be stabilized.
To help unify Jiangnan where dialogue is still possible—
to make a place where peace can be guarded."
Another silence fell.
Outside, wind brushed the canvas and the tent trembled slightly.
Park spoke last.
"All we did was confirm for ourselves what kind of war we're fighting."
"If we only meant to win with steel, none of those words mattered."
"Our purpose is to find the true owner of this land—
and work with him."
Song I-sul studied him for a moment, then nodded.
"…Understood."
Yi In-jung gave a low laugh.
"Didn't the Daoist say it?
The road always appears behind you."
The lantern flame flickered.
A soldier shouted from outside.
"General—intelligence has arrived!"
"Zhang Shicheng has released a massive amount of silver!"
No one looked surprised.
They exchanged quiet glances, as if the news had only confirmed what they already knew.
Park said briefly,
"Then the talking is done.
Now it's the politics of money."
He rose.
"It's time to pay the price for our words."
When he stepped outside, the night air slapped cold across his face.
The fight that began with language was over.
The war it summoned had only just begun.
---*
Chen Youliang's Night — "What Is Heaven?"
Meanwhile, in Chen Youliang's camp—night ran deep.
The lamps inside his tent had been put out.
Only a faint ember remained, blinking weakly.
Outside, the wind was quiet.
Inside, Chen's mind was not.
He wanted—truly wanted—to cut down the men who had spoken to him.
To silence them, to erase the sting.
Chen sat alone at a table.
A single sheet of blank paper lay before him.
With the tip of his finger, he drew a line across it.
"Heaven raises men… That belief carried me this far."
It had been a faith he held for years.
Faith that had pushed him upward.
He believed Heaven had chosen him.
He believed the Mandate had touched him.
That belief hardened with every battle he survived.
Tonight, a crack opened in its foundation.
"Heaven is distant. People are close…"
Park's words echoed in his ear.
They were insolent.
And they were precise.
If Heaven was distant, then where did the Mandate he'd clung to actually sit?
Had Heaven chosen him?
Or had he chosen Heaven—after the fact?
He thought of the characters on his banner.
大義.
Great Righteousness.
When he wrote those strokes, did he truly carry the meaning to the end?
He asked himself.
Was "righteousness" Heaven's will?
Or merely man's profit dressed in a robe?
No answer came.
Instead, shame rose—
the memory of how easily he had called his own gain "righteousness,"
how ridiculous it must have sounded to anyone who knew the context.
Only the small sound of the candle shrinking remained.
A drop of wax fell onto his fingertips.
It cooled at once, clinging coldly to his skin.
For a moment, that cold felt like the fingertip of Heaven.
He lifted his head and stared into the dark roof of the tent.
No starlight reached him.
Words spilled from his lips.
"Heaven keeps its place through silence."
"And men grab that nameplate and arrange their own affairs."
He swallowed.
"Mandate of Heaven… Even for me, it was a scabbard."
He leaned forward.
The ember was dying.
He covered it with his palm.
A faint warmth remained against his skin.
"People's will… That idea frightens me more."
People's will changes.
People's will covets.
People's will is warm.
That warmth traveled into his hand.
And he accepted it.
"If Heaven makes room by staying silent,
then men take Heaven's seat."
As the words left his mouth, he finally recognized the shape of his fear.
A world where the Mandate grows thin.
A world where men fill the vacancy.
He was asking himself whether he had the courage to look at such a world.
He sat like that for a long time—
then quietly snuffed the ember.
"If it is people's will… then it will bend, and it will rise again."
He looked outside.
In the dark, the first pale light of dawn began to seep upward.
It was faint—yet unmistakable.
He murmured,
"Heaven is far.
But people's will is here."
A strange calm crossed his face.
Not emptiness—movement.
A decision: his faith was shifting its seat.
Chen Youliang's Departure — Into the People
He did not sleep until morning.
The sky was as overcast as it had been yesterday.
At the eastern edge, thin light climbed quietly.
Restless, he pulled the tent flap aside and stepped out.
Cold dawn air pressed against his chest.
The camp still slept.
Only a few sentries tended small fires, breathing in the smell of morning.
Zhang Hui rushed over.
"My lord—what is it?
We saw your light burning all night. I was concerned."
Chen turned slowly.
His eyes seemed fixed on something far away.
"Take me to where the people are."
Zhang Hui blinked.
"The people…? My lord, it is wartime."
"Because it is wartime," Chen said, "all the more reason."
He walked past Zhang Hui.
"Even Heaven's will… must be a gathering of the people's will."
Zhang Hui stood speechless, then stammered,
"If you go, at least take more guards—"
"No."
Chen did not slow.
"Soldiers guard Heaven's name."
"I'm going to look at men."
Zhang Hui could not answer.
He only watched Chen's steps—
the steps of a man who had reached a decision.
Chen mounted a black horse.
Only two followed him.
One was Zhang Hui.
The other was Yao Zhang.
Yao Zhang asked,
"My lord—where are we going?"
"To where the people live."
Yao Zhang exhaled.
"Most of them are refugees now.
They're starving. Sick—"
Chen nodded.
"That's why I want to see it."
"I want to see how people's will is born."
Yao Zhang sighed.
"This isn't like you."
Chen smiled—carrying more than one meaning.
"The 'me' you speak of was a man who did everything in Heaven's name."
"I'm going to change it—with my own feet."
He lifted his gaze toward the distant mountains.
Above the horizon, heavy clouds lay thick—
and over them, dawn light spread in silence.