Zhu Yuanzhang's Fury
Zhu Yuanzhang did not hide his anger.
The southern saber warriors being crushed by Goryeo's arrow net had scraped directly across his pride.
"Push our archers forward."
"Further. Advance again."
Messengers ran.
Before the sound of hooves could echo twice, Ming archers were already at the edge of the formation.
Thrum. Thrum. Thrum.
Dozens—hundreds—of arrows filled the night sky.
Their arcs poured down like a rain of shooting stars.
But the Goryeo troops did not move.
They knew the arrows would not reach.
They had positioned themselves precisely one step beyond maximum range.
At that exact distance,
they lit fires, grilled meat, and sang.
Arrows pierced the caltrop fields,
fell at the edges of pit traps,
or shattered against deer-horn barricades.
The soldiers merely glanced up, then went back to eating.
"Hey, another one."
"They still can't judge the distance."
"Bet they won't reach us today either."
Calm turned the battlefield into a joke.
The Ming had misread the terrain.
Their side stood on a gentle slope,
the Goryeo forces slightly lower.
No matter how far the Ming advanced, the distance barely changed.
And ahead lay layered trap zones.
Zhu Yuanzhang's arrow storm burned itself out in empty air.
Watching the rain of arrows, Park Seong-jin felt only disappointment.
"I thought they'd charge out properly," he said.
"A full engagement. Instead, they hide and shoot."
Song Yi-sul chuckled.
"They're scared. They already know what you can do."
Park shook his head.
"This isn't calculation."
"It's anger."
His gaze darkened.
"And… their real experts still haven't moved."
The final arrows fell.
The Ming archers withdrew.
Park closed his eyes.
The next fight would not be armies colliding.
It would be a blood duel between masters.
That night, Zhu Yuanzhang made his decision.
"I will take the martial world into my hands."
Liu Bowen and the strategists were summoned.
Lines were drawn across the map.
"Army battles end here."
"We gather experts."
Martial sects, wandering fighters, assassins, criminals—
all were called in.
Once rewards were announced, shadows converged.
Three in one day.
Five the next.
Twelve after that.
Strange warriors flooded the Ming camp.
Zhu Yuanzhang lined them up.
"From today on, you are a Special Operations Unit."
"I give the orders. You follow military law."
The air froze.
"We aren't soldiers."
"If you bind our freedom, our blades die."
Resistance erupted.
Fights broke out.
Accidents followed.
Zhu Yuanzhang ground his teeth.
"Animals."
That night, Liu Bowen spoke quietly.
"Your Majesty."
"The moment you bind the martial world, it loses its strength."
"And it will leave."
Zhu Yuanzhang did not answer.
The chaos reached Park Seong-jin within a day.
"Binding martial artists with military law?"
Song Yi-sul laughed.
"That's putting a leash on a tiger."
Park looked toward the Ming camp.
"That chaos will become our opportunity."
Special Operations Unit — First Engagement
Their first mission was at night.
The moon hung low. The wind was still.
Twenty men.
Two poison specialists. Three assassins.
Four spearmen. Several swordsmen.
None knew each other's habits or names.
The order was simple.
"Probe the Goryeo outpost."
"Don't kill."
"Shake them and return."
Dissonance began immediately.
"Strike the front and withdraw."
"No, flank them."
"I'll spread poison first."
"Don't waste time."
There was no clear commander.
There was law—but no one willing to obey it.
The most impatient man moved first.
A Sichuan assassin slipped forward.
Two followed.
No signals. No timing.
Then—
Boom.
A single, very low drumbeat.
"We're exposed."
Before the words finished, arrows flew.
Not one volley.
Different angles. Different speeds. Different origins.
An arrow net closed.
The first assassin fell without a scream.
"Retreat—!"
Too late.
Ahead were traps.
Behind—crossfire.
Poison needles scattered uselessly.
The distance was wrong.
One man leapt.
One dropped flat.
One fled alone.
Then someone stepped out from the Goryeo side.
Not Park Seong-jin.
One of the Warrior Unit.
He did not advance.
He simply stood there.
By not moving, he sealed the field.
With the flow locked,
the Special Operations Unit tangled itself.
"Every man for himself! Run!"
That was the end.
The moment they scattered, the unit ceased to exist.
Ten entered.
Five returned.
Only two were uninjured.
No one said "failure."
No one needed to.
They all understood.
"The enemy isn't a master."
"It's an army."
More precisely—
"An army with its momentum fully organized."
After that night, the unit's talk changed.
"Solo actions won't work."
"We need coordinated strikes."
"No—we need more numbers."
No one said it aloud,
but everyone thought the same thing.
If he comes out,
this stops being a test.
The first engagement ended in failure.
The chaos only deepened.
Zhu Yuanzhang listened to the report in silence.
Then he spoke softly.
"So the next one… will fail as well."
The battlefield darkened another step.