338.
Two Enemies — Yoon Dam's Warning**
Night had deepened.
The torches in the camp had not diminished, yet fatigue clung to their light.
A fire being alive did not mean it was bright—only that it had not yet gone out.
Though the victory at Taiping was over, the camp still breathed like a battlefield.
The smell of wine lingered, and the mud on the horses' hooves had not dried.
Chen Youliang returned from his meeting with Zhang Shicheng.
Weariness hung over his face after the long ride.
His horse was half sunk in mud, and moisture and blood clung together along the hem of his cloak, weighing it down.
He paused before the tent, drew a breath, and stepped inside.
Yoon Dam and Park Seong-jin were waiting.
Chen Youliang let out a short laugh.
"He's a man in the end. Cold toward grand causes, but he turns easily for practical gain. We've agreed on cooperation—for now."
Yoon Dam replied,
"Grand causes are just banners hung in the back, for someone like him."
"Heh. Isn't that true of most men? How many truly take great cause as their calling?"
"And soon, won't Your Majesty do the same?"
"Don't expect too much of me. I'm no less a vulgar man than the rest."
Yoon Dam asked,
"The terms?"
"Partial support. Some troops. Autonomy after the war."
Chen Youliang waved his hand and added,
"That's all. I sweetened it with a few things a merchant-minded fellow would like."
Yoon Dam did not argue at once.
An immediate rebuttal could sound like emotion.
He had to speak not from feeling, but from structure.
He inhaled, then slowly shook his head.
That simple gesture cooled the air inside the tent before words ever did.
"This choice is dangerous."
His voice was low, but each word struck home.
"Zhang Shicheng has no intention of sharing our burden.
He is not someone who divides the gains of a battlefield.
He is merely using us. What he wants is the mutual destruction of Zhu Yuanzhang and ourselves.
He intends to reap the fisherman's profit once we've weakened each other."
Chen Youliang's brow narrowed.
The face of a victor began to turn into the face of doubt.
"We won at Taiping. Isn't that enough?
Now only Yingtian remains. War is about momentum.
No matter what happens behind us, once Yingtian falls, it's over.
Zhang Shicheng won't be able to do anything then.
No matter how clever his schemes are—once Yingtian falls, it's finished!"
Yoon Dam cut him off.
The interruption was not a breach of etiquette—it was a way to seize time.
This was no moment for courtesy.
"Your Majesty, Taiping was won with the help of the river."
His words sank to the tent floor.
"It was a battle aided by Heaven.
But Yingtian is their heart.
If Zhang Shicheng does not move, we will be defeated.
He must move his troops.
Before that, we must not move."
Silence passed through the tent.
Outside, a gust of wind pushed in, and the torches flickered.
With every flicker of light, shadows swayed.
Yoon Dam watched the movement for a moment, then turned toward Park Seong-jin—
not to the man himself, but to the weight he carried.
"If Zhang Shicheng does not move," Yoon Dam continued,
"we will face two enemies at once: Zhu Yuanzhang and Zhang Shicheng.
The moment those two even touch hands, we will be isolated.
That flow leads to ruin."
Chen Youliang smiled faintly.
A smile can also be armor.
"You worry too much. Zhang Shicheng is timid and slow.
Would he really betray us?"
Yoon Dam's gaze sank, cold and steady.
Not anger—just the calm of reading people as they are.
"The timid betray first," he said.
"They cannot endure fear.
Right now he is absorbing fear from both Zhu Yuanzhang and us.
He believes neither side will win outright.
And at the final moment, he will choose the path that lets him survive."
The tent fell quiet.
Because of the stillness inside, distant noises outside seemed closer—
a horse snorting, faint laughter drifting in the dark.
Park Seong-jin silently lifted his cup.
He did not drink.
The act of holding it was answer enough.
"Ah… my head," he muttered softly.
It sounded like grumbling, but it was a way of easing tension.
"You speak as if you've walked through Zhang Shicheng's mind."
Yoon Dam gave a short laugh.
This was not a night for long laughter.
"People walk straight toward the ending they can see.
Inertia.
Even when they know the disaster ahead, they still step into it—
like a child reaching toward flame.
If they don't know, they walk into ruin.
If they know but see no other road, they walk there anyway.
That's life."
Chen Youliang asked quietly,
"Then what should we do?"
Yoon Dam did not delay his answer.
When answers come late, emotions rush ahead.
"We must not strike Yingtian."
Chen Youliang narrowed his eyes.
"With victory in our grasp, can that be done?"
Yoon Dam spoke again.
"Your Majesty, what we face now is not merely one state's army.
One enemy is Zhu Yuanzhang's strength.
The other is Zhang Shicheng's silence.
That silence is the greater enemy."
He paused, then pressed his words colder.
"Those who hold swords do not collapse the battlefield—
those who do not hold them do."
Park Seong-jin slowly nodded.
"So this is not the time to strike, but to withdraw."
Yoon Dam's reply was firm.
"Yes. We must abandon the Yingtian campaign and pull back.
If we advance now, even victory will leave only an empty shell.
A result soaked in blood.
After exhausting all our strength, we would face Zhang Shicheng's main force helplessly."
Silence continued.
Chen Youliang rolled his cup with his fingertips.
The color of the wine wavered in the firelight—
like a wavering resolve.
At last, he spoke.
"You may be right.
But if I retreat, people will no longer fear me."
Park Seong-jin answered quietly,
his voice carrying the certainty learned on battlefields—
not certainty of right and wrong, but of roads that endure.
"Fear that lasts becomes rebellion.
Trust must be built.
That is the foundation of ruling the world."
Yoon Dam added,
"Your Majesty, history does not continue by valor alone.
It continues by wisdom."
Chen Youliang lifted the cup to his lips—
but did not drink.
His gaze moved beyond the torches into the darkness.
Beyond that darkness lay Yingtian.
The flames seemed ready to move from Taiping to Yingtian,
ready to burn names—
the enemy's, or his own.
He spoke in a low voice.
"If I abandon Yingtian, those flames will swallow my name.
But flames, once covered, can be rekindled."
That night, Chen Youliang withheld the order to advance on Yingtian.
In the camp, many spoke of the decision as a mere delay.
Just a pause.
Choosing a better moment.
Grasping victory more firmly.
Those words leapt about like sparks from torches.
But Park Seong-jin and Yoon Dam read the grain beneath the decision.
This was not delay—it was a fracture.
A fracture where the war itself would change.
Chen Youliang lent his authority to their counsel.
Without it, the postponement would have collapsed at once.
Voices calling for the Yingtian campaign grew louder.
War swells most dangerously at the height of victory.
Even so, Chen Youliang did not move.
On the surface, it was an alliance—
but in truth, he now faced two formidable opponents.
One held a sword.
The other stood without a sword, yet sharp as a blade's edge.