Chapter 339. The Battle of Liaoyang 8
Liaoyang was their homeland.
The moment the Balhae soldiers passed through the city gate, the way they moved changed.
They no longer walked like soldiers wandering through someone else's city.
They walked like people returning to the courtyard of a home they had left long ago.
One man recognized the broad eastern avenue.
Another pointed toward the narrow alley that ran behind the market.
Someone remembered the well from which he had drawn water as a child.
Someone else knew exactly where the low wall behind the government compound broke off.
More than two thousand cavalrymen poured through the southern gate like a rising tide.
At first, they surged forward as one great wave.
Then, following the roads inside the city, they divided into several streams.
Some cavalrymen raced along the broad avenues.
Others dismounted and slipped into narrow alleys.
Dry wooden doors slammed shut.
Startled faces flashed beneath tiled eaves.
Lamps lit in the darkness trembled one after another, while chickens and dogs cried out in alarm.
The Balhae soldiers did not need to ask for directions.
"That way is the barracks."
"The government offices are past the great zelkova tree, on the right."
"The granaries are close to the waterway."
Short words passed between them, and the units divided accordingly.
When the man in front turned down a road, those behind followed without hesitation.
The layout of the city still lived in their memories.
The barracks fell first.
Liaoyang defenders rushing out after hearing the commotion at the southern gate collided with Balhae troops at the intersections.
Some had not even managed to put on their armor and ran while fastening their belts.
One man, unable to get his shoes on properly, tumbled down a flight of steps.
The Balhae soldiers did not simply cut them down without distinction.
Those who raised weapons were struck down.
Those who dropped them were forced to their knees.
When spearpoints came to rest beneath their throats, enemy soldiers raised their hands, and the Balhae troops drove them against the walls.
The force sent toward the government quarter moved even faster.
The Liaoyang administrative compound had high walls and red gates, but most of the soldiers who normally guarded those gates had already been pulled toward the southern gate.
The few men who remained tried to bar the entrance and hold out, but the Balhae troops did not simply hammer at the main gate.
They attacked the low wall at the rear, the narrow side gate beside the stables, and the entrance used by grain wagons all at once.
Shouts erupted from inside.
Outside, spear shafts rammed against the doors.
Soon came the crack of a broken bar, and the gates of the compound swung open.
The Balhae soldiers who entered the courtyard first seized the towers and gatehouses.
Archers climbed beneath the eaves and aimed downward.
Shield-bearers blocked the stairways and corridors.
One official trying to flee toward the archive threw himself down with both hands raised.
The clerks behind him trembled while clutching bamboo slips and ledgers to their chests.
A Balhae officer shouted at them.
"Anyone who burns the ledgers will be cut down. Shut the doors. Guard the fires. Gather the people."
The granaries were secured soon afterward.
Several wagons already lay overturned in front of the grain stores, while frightened servants and porters pressed themselves against the walls.
The Balhae soldiers broke open the doors and extinguished every nearby flame first.
When someone tried to kick over an oil jar, another soldier twisted his arm and pinned him to the ground.
Grain, weapons, and horse fodder were more than spoils.
They were the lifeline that kept the city alive.
Go Youngchang's officers understood that.
Fleeing enemy troops flooded the alleys.
Some tried to escape along the main roads only to be blocked by the sound of approaching hooves.
Others tried to hide in narrow lanes and were seized by Balhae soldiers.
One man threw away his armor and tried to steal a civilian's clothes.
Another hid behind a well and was dragged out.
Another twisted his ankle while climbing a wall and fell face-first into the mud.
The Balhae soldiers drove them all into one place.
"Drop your weapons."
"Get down."
"Hands above your heads."
The commands were short.
The spearpoints were closer still.
One fleeing soldier refused to release his sword.
The Balhae soldier before him smashed his wrist with a spear shaft.
The sword clattered onto the stone pavement.
Two other soldiers forced him face-down onto the ground.
Those watching in terror began dropping their weapons one after another.
The people of the city watched through cracks in their doors.
One old man understood the Balhae tongue.
He stood gripping the door handle for a long time before murmuring softly,
"The Balhae people have returned."
The words traveled deeper into the alley.
Someone sobbed behind a closed door.
Someone else cautiously lowered a lamp.
Fear, relief, and disbelief spread through the city all at once.
Drums continued to sound from the southern gate.
The banner atop the gate tower had changed.
The government offices were now in Balhae hands.
As the barracks, granaries, wells, and major intersections were seized one after another, the Liaoyang defenders found themselves with nowhere left to go.
At first, they fled.
Then they hid.
At last, they knelt.
Balhae soldiers brought prisoners from every direction into the broad courtyard before the government compound.
Swords and spears were piled to one side.
Armor was stripped away after the cords were loosened.
The routed defenders lay face-down in rows.
Torchlight flickered across their backs.
Some ground their teeth.
Others pressed their foreheads to the ground and wept.
Above them passed the footsteps of the Balhae soldiers.
Feet that knew the alleys of Liaoyang.
Feet that remembered every well, every government building, every granary.
They were not soldiers taking someone else's city.
They were people reclaiming, one gate at a time, the homeland they had lost.
Youngwoo and Go Youngchang rode straight for Xiao Baoxian's residence.
They had driven their horses there without even pausing to catch their breath after opening the southern gate.
Xiao Baoxian's house stood behind the government offices within high walls.
Lamps still hung before the entrance, and the courtyard was scarred with chaotic wagon tracks left by someone fleeing in haste.
Balhae soldiers kicked open the gate and poured inside.
They searched the inner residence, the men's quarters, the stables, the storehouses, even the small detached building in the rear garden all at once.
Doors were thrown open.
Chests were overturned.
Curtains were pulled aside.
But Xiao Baoxian had already fled.
"He is not here."
"Not here either."
"The stables are empty."
"Nothing in the rear garden."
"The storehouse side is empty too."
The same reports came from every corner of the estate.
Listening to them, Go Youngchang slowly lowered his head.
His fingers dug into the hilt of his sword.
He bit his lip until it turned white.
Fury rose inside him.
He had failed to consider that men like Xiao Baoxian were often the most practiced at running away.
Because Xiao Baoxian had spent his days shouting and crushing others beneath him, Go Youngchang had assumed he would cling desperately to his position until the end.
He had imagined him sitting in his office until the gates fell, still roaring orders, pushing the soldiers he had gathered in front of him and grinding his teeth in resistance.
But Xiao Baoxian was not that sort of man.
The moment he sensed that the gate might fall, he thought first of his own life.
He slipped into the darkness with only his gold, silver, and a handful of trusted retainers.
All he left behind were open chests, overturned boxes, and hurried footprints across the courtyard.
Fire surged through Go Youngchang's chest.
For a moment, his desire to seize the man and cut off his head before the entire city burned hotter than his determination to reclaim Liaoyang itself.
The greatest reason matters had come this far was Xiao Baoxian's cruelty.
He had crushed the people of Liaoyang.
He had looked down on Balhae officers.
He had deepened the resentment within the city merely to preserve his own authority.
Only by capturing such a man and punishing him before everyone could they truly say that order had been restored.
Youngwoo looked around the residence once.
Overturned boxes, scattered silk, and silver cups dropped in haste gleamed in the torchlight.
The escape was already over.
If they scattered cavalry now and chased after him, the occupation of the city itself might fall into disorder.
Youngwoo spoke quietly.
"Secure Liaoyang first. Please focus on that."
Go Youngchang could not answer for a long time.
His gaze remained fixed on the empty room.
The hand gripping his sword hilt trembled.
At last, biting his lip, he lowered his head.
"Understood."