428.A rain of arrows blotted out the sky.
The wind was twisting.
Smoke and the stench of gunpowder tangled together, stabbing into the chest.
From the narrow gap where great ships pressed against one another, a figure sprang up into the air.
It was Park Seong-jin.
The moment his feet left the railing, shouts erupted at once from dozens of light craft.
“That’s him—Park Seong-jin! Stop him! Stop him!”
A rain of arrows blotted out the sky.
They poured down like black rain, and commanders on the flagship shouted together.
“Fire! Shoot him down!”
Archers’ hands moved in frenzy.
Arrows sliced through the air in tight succession, ripping sounds bursting one after another.
In midair, Park Seong-jin twisted his body and turned once.
The tip of his blade traced a light figure-eight in empty space.
The grain of the wind bent.
Space itself warped.
The arrows changed direction all at once.
Each shaft trembled like a bird that had lost its owner—then turned back.
“Aaagh!”
“The arrows are coming back!”
Archers on the flagship were pierced by their own shots and collapsed onto the deck.
Some were struck in the throat, some through the eyes, others under the arm.
Their screams were brief.
The next wave of arrows cut them off.
Through that opening, Park Seong-jin’s toes touched down—lightly—on the railing of Zhu Yuanzhang’s command ship.
On the upper deck stood Zhu Yuanzhang’s command staff.
Record keepers tracking the battle.
Deputy officers relaying orders.
Strategists holding tactical manuals.
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Advisors reading the flow of combat.
Many minds moved together on that narrow deck.
Their presence meant one thing:
signals were issued here.
Signals moved the army.
When the army moved, the battlefield overturned.
Park Seong-jin’s sword moved.
“T-that man—!”
“The command deck! The command deck has been breached!”
The first deputy rushed forward, but his neck was severed before he could even raise his blade.
Blood did not spray.
Park Seong-jin’s sword passed as if folding the grain of the arteries.
The body stood for a moment after the head fell, then collapsed late.
The second strategist tried to flee.
Park Seong-jin tapped the deck once with his foot.
Thunk.
A partition slammed forward from behind.
Slash.
The battle map tore like paper, scattering with blood.
Red ink lines and flag markers burst into the air, mixing with droplets of flesh.
The third advisor fell across the tactical board, screaming—
regret woven into the sound.
As the fourth shouted, “Your Majesty—!” and tried to leap forward, a blade of light connected his eyes.
The word never finished.
He fell with his mouth still open.
They were commanders, but not men who had held a sword through death.
Zhu Yuanzhang kept many civil officials close.
Many of them were aboard his command ship.
Their heads were cut down in an instant.
The command ship erupted into chaos.
From below the railings, marines charged upward, screaming.
“Get up there! Protect His Majesty!”
The moment they reached the deck, they saw it.
Not a sword—but light was moving.
Park Seong-jin’s motion was a vortex of blood, smoke, and wind.
Wherever he passed, blood scattered.
The sound of flesh tearing came before the clash of steel.
One marine whispered, his voice shaking.
“There’s… no one left to give orders…”
As those words fell, the confusion aboard the command ship deepened.
Cannons fired, but targets split apart.
Arrows flew, but angles failed.
Smoke signals rose, but no replies came back.
When the single line of command flowing from the upper deck was severed, the sounds of the frontlines overlapped without order.
Then someone burst out from behind a partition near the stern.
It was Zhu Yuanzhang.
Fury rose first on his face—
beneath it clung something deeper: fear.
“Who can stop that demon of a man?!”
Six close guards closed around him, retreating backward.
“Your Majesty, this way!”
“Please withdraw at once!”
Park Seong-jin swept the command deck once.
He did not search with his eyes.
The energy on the deck flowed in one direction.
The killing intent of the guards surged together.
Breath was drawn toward a single point.
At the end of that flow stood Zhu Yuanzhang.
Park Seong-jin’s gaze locked onto him.
Zhu Yuanzhang took several unconscious steps back.
“Those eyes… that is—”
Zhu Yuanzhang fled downward beneath the stern, boarded a waiting light craft.
His guards blocked the way with their bodies as the oarsmen rowed as if tearing their arms apart.
Water flipped over, white spray exploding outward.
The small vessel tore across the surface and broke away.
Once Zhu Yuanzhang vanished, Park Seong-jin did not pursue.
His task was to destroy the head.
The head was already empty.
“It’s over.”
He spoke as if to himself.
That single sentence sealed death across the command ship.
At that moment, a cannon fired.
KWAANG—!
In the chaos, a cannonball ripped into the side of the command ship.
The hull split.
The deck tilted.
Marines screamed as they were sucked into the water.
Park Seong-jin stepped lightly across the collapsing ship.
Flames burst.
Smoke was pressed down and extinguished by water.
His body flashed once—then landed on another vessel.
As the command ship sank, the entire Ming formation shook.
“The command deck is gone!”
“No orders are coming down!”
“His Majesty has vanished!”
“We’re… losing ground!”
At the center of Lake Poyang, the great mass of the Ming army slowly collapsed inward.
At its heart stood Park Seong-jin.
He did not savor victory.
He merely confirmed that the weight of the battlefield had tilted to one side.
