Chapter 61 : Battle of Baesan
Chapter 61: Battle of Baesan
“Instruct me.”
As soon as I arrived at Gun’an Fortress, I received a report.
Go Heul spoke.
“The enemy force is estimated to be two armies, about twenty-five thousand in total.”
“Twenty thousand… That’s quite a number. What’s their composition?”
“As expected, it is centered around cavalry, with light infantry plundering the villages. No heavy infantry has been spotted.”
“Is this the Makbuk Formation? Huh, do they think of us as some Xiongnu rabble?”
Originally, a single army of Northern Zhou is based on a mixed formation of infantry and cavalry, consisting of around 12,000 troops.
Among these, 2,000 are armored spear cavalry, 4,000 are heavy infantry, forming the actual combat force, and the remaining 6,000 consist of logistics personnel, military bands, and other support units.
But this time, the formation that invaded Goguryeo was different. They filled the heavy infantry slots with more armored spear cavalry, totaling 6,000 cavalry and 6,000 logistics troops.
It was a mobility-centered formation, famously used by Gwak Geobyung, the Xiongnu Slayer during the Makbuk Campaign. Go Yangseong asked,
“If they’re using the Makbuk Formation for two armies, then should we consider it as 12,000 light infantry and 12,000 medium cavalry?”
“The enemy infantry likely won’t play a significant role.”
“Ah, of course. Since they’ve crossed over Yeonsan.”
Even medium cavalry don't wear iron armor and barding all year round. Doing so would wear their horses out in no time.
Anyone who’s played a horse racing game knows—horses have poor resilience. So then, which animal in an army has the best recovery?
Humans.
A species second to none in endurance.
Thus, medium cavalry typically have their squires or logistics troops carry their armor and barding during peacetime, only donning them before battle to weigh themselves down.
While heavy infantry can be excluded from the Makbuk Formation, light infantry can never be.
That means the enemy’s infantry now had to carry armor, barding, and even rations as they crossed Yeonsan. In such a state, even well-trained troops would struggle to fight.
“According to the Yoseo informants, Northern Zhou's infantry don’t participate in battle directly, but instead focus on looting once it’s over. They likely won’t impact combat much.”
So the enemy commander would rely on cavalry for combat, treating the exhausted infantry like SCVs.
“In that case, we should estimate the enemy has a clean 12,000 cavalry.”
“Hm. And how are we matched up?”
“To match their mobility, we’ve selected swift forces from the Royal Army, Government Army, and Fortress Troops. We have 20,000 infantry and 6,000 cavalry.”
“Our cavalry force is half of theirs. But since their infantry is at a disadvantage, it should be manageable. Any information on the enemy commander, Dugu Huang?”
Dugu Huang—not a name from the history books. If anything, it sounded more like someone from a martial arts novel.
He’d probably use something like the “Dugu Sword Art” and be described as nasty and rough in personality.
But the Dugu Huang who invaded Goguryeo was different.
Wuxia protagonists rarely charge around on horseback… But Dugu Huang had led only cavalry and rapidly pierced through the steppe. Go Heul said,
“He is said to be the most trusted cavalry commander of Grand Marshal Yang Jian.”
“Yang Jian? Who is that?”
“I heard he’s the in-law of Emperor Yuwen Yong of Northern Zhou, and made great contributions on the Northern Qi front.”
Yang Jian...
Goguryeo may still lack information on him—but I didn’t.
“Emperor Wen of Sui.”
The one who would eventually destroy Northern Zhou and establish the Sui dynasty.
If the current Emperor Yuwen Yong, whose life likely hangs by a thread, is known as the finest ruler of the Northern and Southern Dynasties era—
Then Emperor Wen of Sui, Yang Jian, competes with the likes of Emperor Guangwu or Emperor Kangxi as one of the greatest rulers in Chinese history.
Other than failing to raise his children properly, there’s little to criticize. But then, children never turn out the way one expects.
If Yang Jian trusted a commander, he couldn’t be a mediocre man. His tactics proved it.
“Northern Zhou forces are raiding areas near ripe fields, targeting the rear of the northern region. They scatter for looting during the day and regroup in the evening.”
Indeed, their strategic aim wasn’t siege or occupation—but raiding and cutting off the rear.
Their Makbuk Formation made sieges difficult anyway, so they capitalized on unit characteristics.
With the autumn harvest near, even this much damage was fatal. In the northern region, where villages themselves were supply lines, this also achieved the goal of severing logistics.
Rather than establish permanent camps, they raided scattered villages for supplies and destroyed crossroads and centers to prevent Yoseo forces from concentrating.
‘There’s a reason someone like Yang Jian would deploy 12,000 cavalry so decisively.’
Even for Northern Zhou, that was a considerable number—more than half of the elite medium cavalry a Grand Marshal could command.
“They pillage both Khitan and Malgal villages regardless of allegiance. Currently, attacks are focused westward, mainly on tribes once friendly with Northern Qi. But… if Baesan falls, it’ll be a different story. Even Malgal-Khitan tribes friendly to us—and the Goguryeo mainland—will be threatened.”
“…They’re wreaking more havoc than expected.”
Go Yangseong muttered.
“But how do they plan to return? Right now, the T’u-chüeh are northward, so crossing over made sense, but they’ll soon move south again to avoid the cold.”
“If they sever Goguryeo’s supply lines, Northern Qi will collapse on its own. Perhaps they plan to then ally with the T’u-chüeh?”
At Go Heul’s words, Go Yangseong scoffed.
“Then, if they fail to achieve their goal, they’ll all die here, won’t they?”
“Exactly. That’s why we can call them a suicide squad.”
“A suicide squad…”
There are two reasons to form such a unit.
Either you’re truly at the edge of survival and have no choice but to fight with your life—
Or you think, “How could I possibly fail at this? I won’t die, no way. If I die here, what’s the point of living anyway?”—utterly underestimating your enemy.
Dugu Huang’s current unit was the latter.
Northern Zhou had just been beaten back by Silla and Baekje. To them, Goguryeo must’ve looked unremarkable.
“They’re arrogantly overconfident. A suicide squad, you say? Then we must make sure they fulfill that resolve.”
Overconfidence isn’t just keeping your hands in your pockets in front of the enemy.
Underestimating your foe and executing high-risk operations is also complacency.
In Goguryeo, ugliness was a crime, and the people of Goguryeo did not follow someone beneath them.
Therefore.
“Please allow me to lead the vanguard in this battle.”
I had to shine more brilliantly than anyone.
In most novels—
When the enemy approaches, a general says, “I will take the vanguard,” and the decision is often made on the spot with, “Very well, you do it.”
But in reality, such things rarely happen.
‘It’s not that it never happens, but it’s not a good sign. It means the enemy’s advance was unexpected.’
Conversely, in a planned war, strategies are decided in advance—what tactics to use, how to respond, who will be positioned where. The vanguard is no different.
“I also think Ondal is suited to lead the vanguard. The new tactics he developed will surely confound the enemy.”
“But those tactics haven’t been perfected yet, have they?”
Of course, the one nitpicking was Go San, who had been quite irritable these days.
“Your Majesty brought the elite Royal Army from Goryeo. Is there truly a need for Ondal’s Guai-zama Cavalry to serve as the vanguard?”
Oh ho, that was clever.
If he had simply objected out of spite, the situation would have been unclear, but by deliberately bringing up the Royal Army, he framed his opposition more strategically.
The Royal Army was the very embodiment of the King’s authority, so it could be interpreted that he was using royal authority to strike at me.
But that much alone wouldn’t suffice.
Go Heul spoke.
“The Royal Army undoubtedly has no rival within Goryeo, but Ondal’s unit is newly formed. The enemy is unfamiliar with it, which can be exploited as a weakness. Moreover, since we are all well aware that the Guai-zama Cavalry is a novel formation, even if we lose the first clash, morale will not be significantly affected. And if we achieve something in the opening battle, it will be all the more favorable. There is no one more suitable for the vanguard than him.”
Go Heul presented a rather gambler-like theory: ‘It’s best to place a pawn that won’t hurt if lost, but could yield great returns if it wins.’
Go Yangseong glanced between me, Go Heul, and Go San, then nodded.
“Tactics are made for war. If one refuses to use them in war, then they remain forever unfinished, don’t they? I will respect the Supreme Chancellor’s judgment.”
The balance had already tipped far too heavily.
The best scenario for Go San would’ve been to never allow me the use of ‘new tactics’ in the first place. But he had already granted that.
‘He didn’t think it would come to war.’
Had there been no war, the winner of this political game would have been Go San.
He would’ve stood tall as the man who accepted the refugees, while someone like me could’ve been crushed underfoot.
But war had broken out.
I had been right, and Go San had been wrong.
Competition was relative—if I achieved merit but my rival achieved more, then I was clearly the loser.
And in Goguryeo, the greatest merit was not in aiding refugees but in military achievements.
In the end, Go San had only one hope to cling to now.
That I, having taken the vanguard, would either accomplish nothing and die, or disgrace myself completely.
I couldn’t guarantee either outcome.
There was something Go Heul had once said to me.
Some men, though they don’t know how to fight, believe they do.
Maybe I was one of them.
I had killed beasts, killed men, and seen horrific sights—but war was still new to me.
Still, even so, I’d bet on myself not running away.
It wasn’t that I had extraordinary mental strength.
I just hated pain.
And I hated worse pain even more.
I had seen the lives of Northern Qi refugees.
Each person disregarded, reduced to a number, silently erased beneath statistical efficiency.
If I became cowardly, lost the war because of it, and those I loved were doomed to that same fate—that would be a pain I could not bear.
In that case.
Wouldn’t I have no choice but to fight?
And at last—
“The Western Land army is in sight.”
The curtain of battle rose.
Northern Zhou centered around their Armored Spear Cavalry.
And Goguryeo, led by its Gaema Cavalry.
This wasn’t a third-person world like in Goryeo Myosan or a game. This was first-person—a soldier on horseback, not some outside commander.
Thump, thump—
My heart pounded violently. Sweat dripped down my face.
Next to me, Maeng Sap grumbled for no reason.
“Hey, Ondal, are you sure this armor’s actually any good?”
“Just trust it.”
The armor Maeng Sap, Go Jaemu, Eulji Mundeok, and I wore wasn’t lamellar but Dujeong-gap.
I’d commissioned it from Yeon Jayu back in the Taehak days, and it had only just now been completed.
Goguryeo’s lamellar armor was quite solid, but it had flaws—namely, the lamellae were on the outside.
If a strap were cut by a blade during battle, the plates would fall off with it. Moreover, crafting it required laboriously linking each small plate of wrought iron, making it highly impractical.
Dujeong-gap reinforced this weakness.
A quilted outer layer was added atop the lamellae, fastened not by straps but by metal rivets.
‘Goguryeo was already skilled in forging metal nails, so this was feasible.’
Even looking at the shoes worn by the Gaema Cavalry, they were embedded with thick nails—meant to turn the faces of climbing enemies into cheese.
Naturally, if they could drive nails into boots, they had the tech to fix plates onto armor the same way.
By riveting instead of tying, there was less risk of plates falling off when struck, and since the armor would ripple slightly on impact, it could also help disperse force.
Moreover, it was efficient to produce.
Conventional lamellar armor couldn't have large plates—straps couldn't hold the weight. Also, the iron used was often softer but easier to mold.
But with rivets, Dujeong-gap could use larger, thicker steel plates, reducing production difficulty and allowing for stronger materials.
Yeon Jayu’s prototype Dujeong-gap consisted of eight sets. Four were worn by me, Maeng Sap, Go Jaemu, and Mundeok.
But Maeng Sap seemed to find this new armor ominous. Even though I had verified with statistics that it was ‘safer than existing armor,’ Maeng Sap always preferred experience over numbers.
“Looks weird... Damn, what if the outer layer gets torn and the armor’s useless?”
“I’ve tested it. The outer of Dujeong-gap rips less than lamellar straps break.”
“Looks like there’s no lamella on the shoulders?”
“We’ve added thick shoulder guards instead, haven’t we?”
“Sounds nice... Tch. If I get pierced, I’m killing you.”
Go Jaemu chuckled.
“You blockhead, Maeng Sap. If it gets pierced, you’ll be dead—how’re you gonna kill Ondal then?”
“Huh? Oh... right.”
Seeing that made me chuckle too.
That laugh had value.
Like pricking your finger with a needle when you’re bloated.
Like drawing blood from a cramp.
That one laugh stilled my tremors.
Even though I hadn’t thought a laugh could erase that fear.
…Truly, a curious thing.
Watching them, I firmly tied the chin strap of my Dujeong-gap helmet. In dramas, actors leave them hanging like puppy ears to show their faces, but in reality, both sides are tied tight, doubling as a face guard.
And at that moment—
Pwoooo!
With a blaring trumpet and a crimson triangular flag crashing down—it was the clear signal to begin.
“Piiik!”
With my whistle, I charged forward at the lead.
1. Dujeong-gap originally spread during the late Goryeo and early Joseon dynasties due to Mongol influence. Thanks to its unique flexibility, protection, and much shorter production time than traditional lamellar, it rapidly became the standard.
Though Joseon is often seen as militarily weak, early Joseon was remarkably fast at adopting and transitioning to new weaponry.
2. A common critique of Dujeong-gap is that ‘its fabric outer layer can be torn by slashes, making the armor useless and vulnerable in close combat.’ However, experiments with the Western equivalent, the “coat of plates,” show that well-made outer layers don’t tear easily under most slashes.
For the fabric to tear, blades must penetrate deeply—by then, they usually strike internal plates that stop deeper cuts.
3. Goguryeo's Gaema Cavalry footwear is less well-known, but excavated relics include gilt-bronze shoes. These are embedded with nails in the soles like crampons—clearly intended to pierce the faces of enemies during charges.