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438. Night of Reckoning

  438.

  Night of Reckoning — Zhang Shicheng Alone

  The night in Jiangzhou was unusually still.

  Countless lamps burned across Zhang Shicheng’s headquarters, yet his own chamber lay in deep darkness and silence.

  Zhang Shicheng sat alone on a woven mat, gazing for a long time at the river flowing beyond the window.

  The thunderous cheers that had rolled across Poyang Lake, the news that Nanchang had finally fallen, and the report that Park Seong-jin had captured Zhu Yuanzhang overlapped like ripples on water.

  “So the world truly turns over like this.”

  His murmur dissolved into the empty air.

  If his opponent had been Zhu Yuanzhang, he would have endured to the end and risen again.

  But now the matter went beyond victory or defeat—the very currents of heaven had changed direction.

  Zhang Shicheng could feel it.

  Jin Youliang stood atop a massive wave, and the hand that had set that wave in motion belonged to a Goryeo warrior.

  He rested both hands on his knees and did nothing for a long while.

  Then a breeze brushed past beneath the window.

  A faint presence grazed his chest and passed on.

  It was the residual qi left by Park Seong-jin on his return to Jin Youliang’s camp, carried tens of li away.

  That single thread of presence seemed to announce the arrival of a new age.

  Zhang Shicheng’s lips dried.

  “Which side am I meant to stand on?”

  When he closed his eyes, he saw himself demanding Yangzhou, forcing the Goryeo army outside the walls while stalling for time.

  The image overlapped with the present.

  And when he realized his own intent—to belatedly join Jin Youliang’s great cause—shame climbed through his bones.

  His shoulders trembled slightly.

  “I have shown you great discourtesy.”

  He drew a slow breath.

  Within his heart, a decision began to take shape in silence.

  Rebuking Wei Jin’s Opportunism

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  At dawn the next day, Zhang Shicheng summoned Wei Jin.

  Wei Jin appeared as usual, his expression cool and composed.

  As if his line of argument were already set, he began,

  “My lord, our choice is now clear. We maintain contact with the Yuan, keep negotiations open with Jin Youliang, observe the flow to the very end, and only then make our final decision—”

  “Hold your tongue.”

  Zhang Shicheng’s voice was low, but it carried the edge of a blade.

  Wei Jin’s face stiffened.

  “My lord?”

  Zhang Shicheng rose slowly.

  In his hand was a gourd filled with cold water.

  “How long do you intend to tread two paths at once?”

  Wei Jin steadied his breath and replied,

  “My lord, that is statecraft. That is how one survives.”

  Zhang Shicheng asked calmly,

  “Survive—for what?”

  Wei Jin could not answer.

  Zhang Shicheng hurled the gourd out the window. It struck the frame and burst, scattering water into the night air.

  “What I have upheld all my life is the way of the people and the martial world. Yet what you propose sounds like offering me—Zhang Shicheng—as a sacrificial tribute to the strongest power.”

  Wei Jin said quietly,

  “My lord, we cannot be certain that Jin Youliang will prevail in the end.”

  Zhang Shicheng’s voice filled the room.

  “Zhu Yuanzhang has lost the Mandate of Heaven. Once the Mandate tilts, it flows with the current. That current cannot be turned back by human hands.”

  Wei Jin dropped to his knees.

  “My lord… have you made your decision?”

  Zhang Shicheng nodded.

  “I go to Jin Youliang. Behind him stand the Goryeo forces and the flow of the realm.”

  His gaze did not waver.

  “Act with that understanding. If you speak again of two paths, my hand will cut you down first.”

  Wei Jin could say no more.

  An Apology to the Goryeo Army

  Temporary Goryeo encampment outside the North Gate of Yangzhou.

  In the thick morning fog, Zhang Shicheng’s procession appeared.

  The Goryeo officers were startled.

  Zhang Shicheng had dismounted and was walking barefoot toward them.

  Park Seong-jin had already departed for Jin Youliang’s camp after the battle of Poyang Lake.

  In his place, the Goryeo officers formed ranks to receive Zhang Shicheng.

  When Zhang Shicheng reached them, he dropped to his knees without a word.

  Yi In-jung, who had come out to greet him, halted mid-step.

  Zhang Shicheng pressed his forehead to the ground and spoke,

  “I, Zhang Shicheng, blind and foolish, have shown grave discourtesy. I demanded Yangzhou, put you in hardship, and treated righteousness too narrowly.”

  The officers glanced at one another.

  Zhang Shicheng took a breath and continued,

  “I will now walk the path of Jin Youliang. And I will no longer regard you merely as allies. I will learn from you.”

  Yi In-jung was silent for a long moment.

  Then he slowly extended his hand.

  “My lord, there is no need for such words. War is harsh, and the road tests all who walk it.”

  Zhang Shicheng shook his head.

  “Even in war, the way of humanity must hold its place. The restraint and magnanimity you have shown are broader than the righteousness I have claimed as my own.”

  Yi In-jung helped Zhang Shicheng to his feet.

  Their hands met briefly.

  That same afternoon, Zhang Shicheng personally ascended the North Tower of Yangzhou.

  Yi In-jung was already waiting there.

  “So you have come, my lord.”

  After a brief silence, Zhang Shicheng bowed his head.

  “I return it.”

  Yi In-jung’s eyes narrowed slightly.

  “Yangzhou—to us?”

  Zhang Shicheng replied in a low voice,

  “As a prayer for victory at Yingzhou, and as repayment of my debts. If I am to lend strength to Jin Youliang’s great cause, I must first earn your trust.”

  Yi In-jung nodded.

  “I hear sincerity in your words.”

  Zhang Shicheng gave a short, rueful smile.

  “It is sincere. Yangzhou will serve as a base for the Goryeo forces. There is no reason for me to hold it.”

  Yi In-jung answered,

  “We considered it a temporary station. But we will not treat lightly the meaning this city carries.”

  The gates opened.

  Yangzhou was returned.

  From the battlements, Yi In-jung watched Zhang Shicheng’s retreating figure.

  The wind ran along the city walls.

  His back looked unusually small.

  Such is the end, one might say, of a man who clung to small things and muttered over them.

  Yi In-jung’s voice slipped out softly,

  “So… the balance of Jiangnan has truly changed.”

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