Magnificent Romance of the Three Kingdoms - Chapter 12

(12/257)

Wolves normally keep their distance from people; whether by genetics or instinct, they know how to spot danger. But hunger had made them reckless. Fear meant nothing when survival was at stake. The thick, forearm-sized wooden bars of the gate, a metre and a half high, were nearly splintered by the relentless assault.
Ryeohan, leaning on his short spear and watching the chaos, barked a command to the archers.
“Fire!”
At his word, arrows poured down like a sudden rain shower. They came from the few surviving Goryeo people and the Sushen tribesmen alike, whose hunting skills were unmatched.
Growl!
Howl!
Yelp!
The wolves’ violent, dying cries echoed deep in the valley.
Still, they fought like brave, desperate warriors.
These were creatures that never tucked their tails or flattened their ears like tame dogs; they were always sensitive to noise and aggressively hostile.
The packs jumped, sprang, and leaped again and again.
They trampled the corpses of their kin, using them as platforms to bind even higher, their sheer, savage fury overriding all fear.
It was a brutal, draining war of attrition.
The arrows were running out, and the pile of wolf corpses had reached nearly a man’s height. The relentless packs were unfazed. They leaped over the wreckage of the gate and charged forward. Ryeohan’s men tried to pick them off with controlled, single shots, but they couldn’t hit them all. Any wolf that broke through had to face the beloved weapons of Yeon Mssang, U Deukmu, Jong Chanmu, and fifty other Goryeo people at the front. Anything missed by them was left to the skilled Sushen hunters.
This bloody siege dragged on for a brutal two hours. They were just mortal men, and exhaustion began to set in. The wolves jumped closer to the defensive pit, and more began tumbling into it.
“Lower the drawbridge!”
At Ryeohan’s urgent command, a crude drawbridge, hastily woven from long, thick branches, slowly swung out over the pit and lowered onto the ground on the opposite side.
“Retreat!”
“Retreat!”
With strained shouts of relief, they rushed across the makeshift wooden bridge. Survival was etched on every face.
A few cunning wolves tried to sneak in with the retreating men.
They, too, were quickly dispatched into the pit by the archers’ focused fire.
“Retreat behind the logs!”
“Retreat!”
They all scrambled behind the towering stack of logs and firewood.
Once they had passed, the open path they had used was immediately sealed off with more logs and fuel.
Ryeohan, U Deukmu, Yeon Mssang, and Jong Chanmu climbed the high lookout where Eulji Jeumeun waited. By the time Ryeohan reached the top, the main gate was gone, having collapsed under its repeated assaults. The wolves were now practicing their long jump. No matter how powerful their leaps, none could cross the ten-metre gap of the pit. The real danger, though, was that the pit was slowly filling up with the bodies of the fallen wolves. After some time had passed, a few wolves even began crawling out. Seeing this, Ryeohan commanded:
“Ignite!”
“Ignite!”
Whoosh!
Flames shot skyward.
The logs, already soaked in precious soybean oil and mutton fat, quickly caught and roared to life.
Crackle, crackle!
The fire fed on itself, and the combined heat and flame grew into a furious inferno.
The boys, women, and elders were all busy, continuously lugging and throwing fuel onto the fire. Their faces were flushed and hot; eventually, they had to toss the wood from a distance. The wolves, having filled the pit, now leaped right into the flames. Some might think fire would scare them off.
But that was far from the truth. Driven solely by survival, the wolves were like doomed moths, throwing themselves blindly into the raging inferno.
But no wolf could get past that towering inferno—a wall of fire seventy-five feet long, forty-two feet wide, and ten feet high. They simply became roasted carcasses, and the valley filled with a sickening, acrid stench. Their desperate struggle was not completely useless; it managed to slightly weaken the fire’s intensity in certain spots. These areas were instantly doused with more soybean oil and mutton fat, and more fuel was piled on.
The frenzy of the horses, sheep, dogs, and cattle in their pens also died down. These animals, terrified by the wolves’ attack, had also been panicking, and veteran elders and shepherds were mobilised to calm them. After six long hours of this, both beasts and humans began to droop from utter exhaustion.
Ooooh—Ooooh!
The long howl from the leader wolf, who had been commanding from the rear, seemed to be the signal for retreat.
Yet, their departure wasn’t immediate. First came a frenzied, chaotic feast. All surviving wolves rushed the corpses of their own kind and began to gorge themselves. Even in this, there was a strange hierarchy: some wolves first paid tribute to the leader wolves who had commanded from the rear before they themselves began to eat.
Male or female, young or old, they all ate until they looked like pregnant animals. With long, satisfied burps, they one by one began to turn and leave.
“Yahoo! We won!”
“We drove them off!”
The joy of the Sushen tribesmen was boundless. Having always lived in small settlements and suffered constant losses, the taste of victory for the first time in their lives was greater than any triumph of returning soldiers. Coupled with the pure relief of surviving a tense fight for their lives, their faces shone with ecstasy.
“Thank you!”
“We are grateful!”
“You saved our lives!”
It was a victory won together, but the people were not shy about showing their thanks.
The three leaders, village elders, and women carrying babies rushed the people coming down from the watchtower, showering them with thanks and praise.
“This was only possible because all of you lost sleep over the past nights. You’ve all worked incredibly hard,” Ryeohan said with a bright smile, then turned to U Deukmu and the others.
“I know you’re tired, but please clear one of the fires. There will still be many live wolves in the pit. To prevent any further loss, capture as many as possible—mothers and pups alike—and put them in empty pens.
Once they rest, process the meat into jerky, and make sure the hides are dried properly in the shade to turn them into valuable trade goods. As for the abandoned carcasses outside the gate, salvage only the useful hides and discard the rest far away. This will keep the wolves occupied with feeding for a while and prevent them from returning. Once they finish that, take measures to remove the remains and the scent of bl00d to avoid attracting other packs.”
“Yes! Understood.”
“We shall carry out your orders!”
Despite the exhaustive instructions, the three leaders, including Yeon Mssang, bowed their heads and accepted the command.
Ryeohan’s orders were executed over the next three days. Afterward, everyone worked together, frantically preparing for the inevitable next attack.
It was May.
Spring had finally arrived in this frozen land.
All the snow and ice had melted, and the river flowed crystal clear, like the tears of a mythical, untouched maiden.
Since the last great battle, there had been two more large-scale attacks, though not as severe as before.
It was the harsh trial of the tundra before spring could be truly welcomed.
In the end, the wolves offered up enough meat to feed the people for over a year, thousands of hides, and the lives of their comrades, fathers, and pups to the humans before disappearing into the spring.
Cheongnyeo Mountain and Cheongnyeo Valley were bustling with activity.
Spring is brief in this frigid land.
It barely lasts three months—June, July, and August—before yielding to summer, so it has to be cherished. Every household was busy preparing for the grazing season, to feed the animals that had survived on hay and bean husks.
They still didn’t know how to properly build a yurt (or pao).
For people who needed to constantly move with their herds, they needed a pao that could be erected and disassembled quickly. Their current tents were crude and impractical compared to what Ryeohan intended to build. Relying on something he had once read, Ryeohan ordered them to find willow and elm trees from far away. Only these two types of wood had the elasticity needed to bend without breaking.
Using these materials, Ryeohan instructed them to form a large circle, attaching hooked ropes at regular intervals. This design would allow them to tighten and firmly secure the poles for the cylindrical side walls. They similarly attached ropes to bind the spokes between the large and small circles for the conical roof. The rest was easy: they just had to cover the structure with several thick layers of prepared animal hides or other insulating materials and secure it with strong ropes.
Eulji Jeumeun and the others were once again amazed by Ryeohan’s ingenuity. The Sushen tribesmen now followed him completely; they constantly brought him and the Goryeo people extra food, meaning the Goryeo group didn’t have to cook their own meals.
In addition, Ryeohan gathered all children aged six and older. They learned the Goryeo language, Chinese, and Chinese characters from Eulji Jeumeun, and martial arts (bow, spear, and sword) from U Deukmu and Yeon Mssang.
As for horsemanship, there was no need for lessons. Even six-year-olds were so talented they played games on horseback, so Ryeohan actually had to learn from the Sushen people. Furthermore, Eulji Jeumeun, all the Goryeo people, and the children had to learn Hangeul from Ryeohan for an hour every night.
Today, Ryeohan was sitting in a sunny spot, training the captured wolves.
His training method was simple: all the wolves were kept hungry, but the ones that could understand and follow Ryeohan’s verbal commands were rewarded with a full meal, praise, and a loving stroke from him. As expected, the older, leader-class wolves were nearly impossible to tame.
These wolves were gradually excluded from the training, and only the others were groomed.
Still, not many were successfully tamed; most were young wolves or pups.
Just as Ryeohan felt disappointed, the mother wolves began to give birth one by one. Wolves typically breed in January, and after a gestation period of about two months, they give birth to between three and ten pups between April and June. Ryeohan now dedicated two hours every day to these pups.
It was late afternoon.
Ryeohan decided to go out for a ride for a change. He was fully recovered, but the recent lack of activity had made him sluggish; he rarely bothered to leave the valley. Jong Chanmu and Danyeo followed him.
The brown plains and hills were growing greener by the day.
The Sushen tribesmen were scattered across the plains, busy with their livestock.
Occasionally, the Goryeo scouts could be seen on patrol.
Ryeohan felt refreshed and spurred his horse to a gallop.
The other horses, not to be outdone, raced alongside him.
To his right, people and livestock dotted the plains; to his left, valleys flowed past like running water.
“Yee-haw!”
It was the joyful shout of Ryeohan, a weary old soul now returned to the vigorous, prime age of seventeen.
He galloped on, lost in the speed.
Suddenly, Ryeohan felt thirsty.
Looking around, he saw a narrow stream running through a small valley.
Ryeohan guided his horse towards it.
He dismounted and knelt down.
Gulp, gulp!
“Ugh, spit! It’s salty!”
Ryeohan twisted his face in distaste.
“Huh?”
He jumped up and frantically chased the stream upstream.
The mountain shadows were stretching long and hazy,
and only the flight of birds heading for their nests crossed the beautiful, sunset-streaked western sky.