310.
Zhu Yuanzhang's Command Camp — "The Invisible Hand"
On the southern bank of the Yangtze, rain was falling over Zhu Yuanzhang's main camp.
The sound of rain striking the tent roofs was steady, yet the air within the camp felt strangely subdued.
Even as reports of victory piled up, Zhu Yuanzhang extinguished his lamp late each night.
This night was no different.
Without removing his rain-soaked boots, he stood before the battle map (戰圖).
The waterways and fortifications around Chizhou (池州) were marked in red ink.
"…Cut again."
Zhu Yuanzhang spoke in a low voice.
The strategist before him bowed.
"Xu Da's courier has not arrived.
There is also no report from Chang Yuchun's vanguard."
Zhu Yuanzhang placed a finger on a point along the river—
the waterway leading to Chizhou.
A small additional mark had been added there.
"It wasn't cut where the troops were thick."
"Yes, Your Majesty."
"The head was severed first."
He set the brush down.
His gaze grew cold.
"This is neither Chen Youliang's method, nor Zhang Shicheng's way."
A brief silence followed.
Only the rain striking the tent remained.
"…The Goryeo army."
At those words, a faint stir passed among the aides.
One asked cautiously,
"Has Goryeo intervened directly?"
Zhu Yuanzhang shook his head.
"They did not step to the front.
But their blade went to the deepest place."
He continued slowly.
"They do not split the hulls—they cut the oars.
They do not kill soldiers—they sever commands.
That is Goryeo."
For a moment, Zhu Yuanzhang's hand stilled.
His gaze drifted from the map into empty space.
A chill crept into his chest.
An unease without clear cause rose within him.
"Who is leading these attacks?"
The aide bowed.
"Park Seong-jin.
He is known as a Goryeo martial warrior.
The man who opened Yangzhou without bloodshed."
Zhu Yuanzhang's eyes narrowed.
"Bloodless entry…"
"Yes."
"One who subdues men without spilling blood
will one day call forth blood."
He slowly took his seat.
The rain showed no sign of stopping.
"War is not fought with blades.
It is fought with human desire."
He murmured softly,
"That man is already looking beyond war itself."
After a pause, orders were issued.
"Increase reconnaissance.
Record every movement of the Goryeo army.
Do not fight—observe."
"Your Majesty?"
"Before raising the blade,
we must first cut their thoughts."
That night, rumors faster than the wind spread through the southern Yangtze camp—
that an invisible hand was walking upon the river.
Zhu Yuanzhang began to watch the Goryeo army with utmost care.
His gaze remained fixed on the dark waters of the Yangtze.
Within a single day of the Goryeo army's entry, the balance shifted.
Enemy ships moving along the river fell one by one under storms of arrows.
Burning vessels drifted downstream, and those that survived lost all direction.
When the riverbank of Chizhou briefly fell silent, Park Seong-jin raised his hand in signal.
"The river is now in our hands."
Dozens of sailors rowed out, gathering the shattered enemy ships one by one.
Those still usable were bailed out and refitted with new sails.
Only the flags were changed.
Red banners became white banners.
The enemy's ships became theirs.
Chang Yuchun, who held Chizhou, felt his limbs bound.
Song I-sul reported,
"The river is now ours."
Park Seong-jin nodded.
Tracing the river's course with his finger, he said,
"We have cut the vessels that carried the flow.
Supplies will be taken on site—
from the enemy."
At the command, the Goryeo forces drove the captured ships to the mouth of Chizhou,
where the waterways converged.
They lashed the vessels together, forming a temporary pier.
Provisions, arrows, and carts were moved across it.
Their movements were smooth, as though the place had always been their harbor.
The soldiers did not rush.
They anchored ships and built makeshift bridges from the timbers of burned vessels.
From afar, enemy troops lingered atop Chizhou's walls,
yet none dared descend.
The waterways through which Chang Yuchun's army might move were sealed.
A deputy said,
"The enemy fears us."
Park Seong-jin replied,
"Ha. Of course they do.
They will fear us even more."
There was no impatience in his expression.
Like someone slowly reclaiming what had been entrusted elsewhere,
he secured the captured supplies and even recovered arrows that had been fired.
Local civilians were summoned, paid generously, and given work.
Everything moved with order; the air was calm.
Watching from the city walls, Chang Yuchun muttered softly,
"以靜制動(이정제동).
To restrain movement with stillness."
What he saw in the Goryeo army was a force without clamor—
one that ruled the river, claimed the waterways,
and had already concluded half the battle.
They showed no haste even in preparing to take Chizhou.
By evening, crimson light spread across the river.
Charred wreckage rocked with the current,
and water birds came down to rest.
Park Seong-jin gazed straight ahead.
Since opening the middle dantian (中丹田), everything within him had grown profoundly still.
The boiling urgency had vanished,
and he now saw the world moving according to its own flow.
His mind did not move,
yet the world flowed around him.
In that moment, he understood:
To gain the river
is to have already seized half of the battle.
That day, the Goryeo army gained the river.
Blood was shed, yet the fighting was brief and the decision swift.
The water aided them, and time stood on their side.
As Chang Yuchun's forces were unable to move,
the world itself seemed bound in place for a while longer.