Chapter 37: Ahead of the Times (2)

In front of Wang Jun stood a target that had become a hedgehog.

‘Thirty shots? No, forty? Not a single one missed.’

I thought the phrase “every shot hits” was an exaggeration, but looking at that, it was no exaggeration at all.

‘As expected of the heir of the Wangga Wood Workshop.’

The Wangga Wood Workshop made its living from woodworking, and among its products, bows were the specialty.

He was literally the first son of a family of master bowyers.

Even if he was of the Domestic Fortress Faction, it would be hard to find someone who shot as well as Wang Jun.

“Elder Wang Jun.”

“…My father laughed. What is it?”

“Something good happened.”

I said so and went down to the open ground.

Wang Jun glanced at me.

“Why, are you itching? Want to try a shot?”

Maybe it was because I had seen Wang Godeok smiling from afar, but surprisingly, Wang Jun was not hostile toward me.

I guess a filial son was still a filial son.

“Yes, I would like to shoot just one.”

“Not a whole round, but just one?”

Wang Jun smirked.

“You’re not very good with the bow, are you?”

“How did you know?”

“If you were any good, then at the Recruitment Rite you would have caught meat with arrows, not shurikens.”

“Well, you’re not wrong. I’m not very good with the bow.”

Right now, I hit about seven out of ten arrows.

That seemed decent enough, but when I saw monsters like Maeng Sap or Crown Prince Go Daewon, who hit ninety out of a hundred, I realized I was still far from their level.

‘On top of that, I even got scolded for messing around without even knowing the basics.’

What I wanted to show Wang Jun now was exactly that so-called “messing around.”

I pulled out what I had prepared and attached it to the bow.

Wang Jun looked puzzled.

“…What’s that? A stick with a string?”

“It’s called a tong-a, and… if you’ll excuse me.”

I grabbed the arrow halfway down and snapped it in two.

Wang Jun’s expression hardened.

It felt like lending an eraser to a friend, only to see him snap it in half in front of me.

“What do you think you’re doing? Do you have a death wish?”

“Of course not. Please don’t misunderstand. I just want to show you something.”

I tied the string of the tong-a around my wrist, put the broken arrow into it, and shot.

Fwip–!

The arrow flew, leaving only the tong-a in my hand.

The arrow flew past the target without hitting it and fell only after going fifty paces beyond it.

Wang Jun’s eyes widened at the sight.

“What on earth is this…?”

It didn’t matter that the arrow missed the target.

What mattered was that Wang Jun had been drawing his bow to nearly its maximum range, and yet my baby arrow had flown fifty paces farther than that maximum range.

“This is called a pyeonjeon, or baby arrow.”

Just as the cannon was born from the idea of shooting like a crossbow, and graduate students came from the idea of exploiting college students like slaves…

So too did the baby arrow come from the idea of using a bow like a crossbow.

And this was tied to the history of the crossbow.

The crossbow was a powerful weapon, but it had a weakness: short range.

Because of its structure, its string could not be drawn back as far as a bow.

For larger mounted crossbows fixed on fortress walls, they sometimes outranged bows, but handheld crossbows never matched the range of a bow.

To overcome this short range, people began reducing the size of the crossbow bolts.

The idea was to make them lighter so they would fly farther.

Even so, they never quite matched bows, but it was better than nothing.

This was why early crossbows used arrows similar to bows, but as time went on, the bolts became shorter, eventually resembling darts.

And naturally, the idea arose: ‘If you shoot shorter arrows with a bow, wouldn’t they fly farther? And unlike a crossbow, bows reload faster.’

That was the origin of the baby arrow.

If the crossbow was born from the bow, then the baby arrow was another reverse invention.

‘I saw it once on that damn Channel X show, “Secret Weapons of Joseon.”’

I heard that it was used in various places—Central Asia, the Islamic world, even Byzantium and China—but… the place where it was studied most systematically and used in battle was Joseon.

There were even strange stories, like Yi Seong-gye piercing the heads of seventy Yuan soldiers by firing seventy baby arrows.

And in King Sejong’s time, there was a record saying, ‘Let’s secretly train this as Joseon’s secret weapon.’

Whereas in other places the baby arrow was mostly a matter of individual skill, in Joseon it became part of a unit-wide standard tactic.

It was truly Joseon’s special weapon.

“Amazing. So you attach this tong-a and shoot it like a pseudo-crossbow.”

Wang Jun was impressed as soon as he saw the baby arrow.

“It uses the crossbow principle of firing lighter arrows to extend range. Because the arrow is lighter, it flies farther.”

“Not just farther. Because it flies faster, it also penetrates better.”

Wang Jun nodded.

“I agree. On the battlefield, the importance of weapons goes without saying. Aren’t the Silla bastards the same? That fellow Shindeuk or whatever….”

Shindeuk was a Silla officer of the 11th rank, Namma, who developed the great crossbow Pono, mounted on fortress walls, and gave Wang Jun trouble on the Gaema Front.

“Still, as you can see… the baby arrow isn’t very effective yet.”

“So it seems. After all, it doesn’t look like a technique for someone who’s only just learned the bow.”

That was exactly right.

Just knowing the principle of a triple spin kick didn’t mean you could do it, and just reading a book on ginseng cultivation didn’t mean you could grow it.

Likewise, baby arrows couldn’t be used simply by knowing the method.

Honestly, as a bow novice, I was lucky just to imitate it.

And beyond the bow itself, I didn’t really know how archers were supposed to be deployed.

I had even sought help from Yeombu, but he had refused, saying that he was an instructor in archery, not a battlefield commander of archers.

But Wang Jun was different.

“Arrows with longer range… In open battle, they would allow us to seize the initiative. If given to scouts, they could strike enemy scouts first.”

He was the best archer in Pyeongyang and, as a great modal, had experience commanding and training archers.

He understood archery deeply, and he understood bows even more deeply.

“But the best use would be… siege warfare. From the speed I saw, even without iron tips they could pierce leather armor. And by snapping arrows into two or three, you could make more out of limited supplies, which is perfect for defense.

Most importantly, our side could reuse the enemy’s arrows, but the enemy wouldn’t know how to shoot baby arrows, so they couldn’t reuse ours.”

“That’s right.”

Just one demonstration, and he immediately grasped the true value of baby arrows.

“If Cao Cao’s army had used baby arrows at Red Cliffs, Zhuge Liang wouldn’t have been able to seize them. He would have had no choice but to give his head to Zhou Yu.”

“…Zhuge Liang captured arrows at Red Cliffs? And why would Zhou Yu cut off the head of his ally?”

I had slipped.

Right, the Romance of the Three Kingdoms didn’t exist yet in this era.

Damn you, Luo Guanzhong! Get out of my head!

“Ha ha, I must have confused it with the Chu–Han Contention.”

“Hmph, well, in those days, allies cutting off each other’s heads was commonplace.”

“Anyway….”

I quickly changed the subject.

“…Thus, I humbly ask, Elder Wang Jun, could you refine this cobbled-together technique I made so that the Goguryeo army could use it in actual combat?”

“But why should I help you?”

Saying that, Wang Jun snorted a laugh.

“…I can’t say the same thing. This is something worth trying for me as well; I cannot stay here forever after all, and I must return to the center at least to avenge myself.”

“Avenge… you mean?”

“The defeat I suffered at Maunryeong at the hands of Kim Muryeok.”

“…Good to know it wasn’t revenge against me.”

“Being wronged by Yeon Jayu or by you makes me angry, but only up to a point. And if we can make this baby-arrow thing work, it will greatly help my return.”

After all, it wasn’t as if the two of us had drawn blades on each other like during the Rebellion of Chugun and Segun; it had been more of a factional struggle over the position of the left leader.

Moreover, Goyangseong had treated the defeated Wang Godeok with as much courtesy as possible instead of mocking him, and once the situation stabilized they would likely push for the Lelang Wang clan’s return.

Even in late Goguryeo, under the Yeon regime, many Lelang Wangs such as Wang Gulu and Wang Mojung appeared, so the probability was high.

In that context, though Wang Jun might hate us, there was no reason for him to regard us as outright targets for revenge.

“But… you shot arrows straight at me the moment you saw me, didn’t you?”

“I was curious what kind of fellow you were.”

“Do you usually shoot someone when you’re curious about them?”

“Have you ever been shot in the back of the head?”

“I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“Wise choice.”

Wang Jun continued.

“Even if not for rank, if a technique I devise could pierce the Silla bastards, that alone would be deeply satisfying. And besides….”

As he spoke, Wang Jun’s gaze turned toward his father, Wang Godeok.

Wang Godeok was already contentedly playing with the wooden type I had given him, going “ho-oh, ho-oh” and utterly absorbed.

“It’s been a long time since I’ve seen my father so spirited; these days he had no pleasures besides eating….”

That was a rather different perspective.

I had thought Wang Godeok had put on some weight and his complexion had improved, and that he was simply enjoying a comfortable retirement.

But in Wang Jun’s eyes, his father had seemed to have lost vigor and only eaten.

And because I had given such a father new vigor, Wang Jun felt a sort of gratitude toward me.

“Yeon Jayu has been talking about war lately; do you think the same as him?”

“No. What the Eastern Division Leader imagines as ‘war’ is thirty thousand versus thirty thousand, or fifty thousand versus fifty thousand fighting for regional hegemony.”

That was how wars were in King Gwanggaeto’s time.

“However, my view is different.”

I spoke frankly.

“The next war will be greater than that. It will be hundreds of thousands against hundreds of thousands, perhaps even more, a war over the fate of the nation. Terrible battles will be fought in front and back, above and below, everywhere.”

Wang Jun snorted.

“You’re full of hot air.”

I wasn’t boasting.

“Still, if what you say were true, then—this would be the war to end all wars.”

That too was wrong.

There is no war that ends all wars.

There are only those who believe the current war will be the final one.

Fwip–!

After six shots, Wang Jun seemed to have gotten the hang of it and began firing baby arrows in my direction.

“Wow, it used to take me days even to shoot properly….”

“You’ve shot for only a year, and I’ve shot for thirty; it makes no sense to compare us as equals.”

“Then when will the manual come out?”

“We’ll see when it’s ready. Does raw millet become rice just because you rush it? So tell me, do you think that ‘war’ you speak of will come within five years?”

No, I thought forty years.

Thinking that way, there was no reason to rush.

By then, unless Wang Jun in his forties lived as long as King Jangsu, he would likely be long dead.

Still, saying five years suggested he had at least five years in mind.

And… he really was a professional.

Had he already worked out a rough estimate?

Working in factories had made me appreciate how valuable experts were.

Sometimes something that seems like a one-person job turns out to be worlds different once an expert’s touch is involved.

That was exactly why I had outsourced the type and the baby-arrow work to the Wang brothers this time.

I had the idea, and those two had everything else; so it made sense for me to supply the idea.

Of course it was a pity I couldn’t pocket all the profits, but my aim was not money.

To be precise, the money part was already achieved; even with ginseng alone, I was practically wealthy.

So my goal was solely to prepare properly for the future war so that my people would not suffer damage.

In that sense, even if they had retired to the backroom, it was definitely good that I had cultivated friendly ties with the Wang family members who still held influence inside Pyeongyang Fortress.

In a class society, position was the highest value even when money was king in capitalist societies.

No one in Joseon ran headlong into posts like Grand Minister of the State or the Supreme Council because they paid well.

In a status society, the powers that officeholders could wield far exceeded what the rich could do with money.

‘Anyway… this should be fine.’

Wang Jun, a master archer, would surely refine this baby-arrow into a usable technique.

Likewise, Wang Godeok, who had mastered type production, would take care of producing the type.

Thus.

Type and baby-arrow….

Outsourcing success.

Two months later.

“…Ondal.”

“What.”

“Is that wooden type thing coming along or what? How long must this damned transcription go on? If the enemy attacked now, I wouldn’t even be able to hold a sword.”

Speaking like that was not Maeng Sap, a warrior of the Domestic Fortress Faction, but Go Jaemu of the Pyeongyang Faction, who had a strongly bureaucratic bent.

Even Go Jaemu, who could write a bit, could not endure the current transcription because it was so grueling.

“…Still, he’s better than that one.”

I indicated Maeng Sap.

“Heh-heh, I’ll write today too. Heh-heh.”

While Pyeongyang-faction friends like Go Jaemu only complained of chronic wrist pain, Maeng Sap, who had been thrown straight into transcription the moment he finished his writing, was completely out of it.

“Has everyone finished the transcriptions?”

“I barely finished one….”

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