Warlord Han Yegum

Chapter 2

Dawn broke.

The conscripts spent the night huddled together on the floor of a large storage hall, spreading handfuls of straw over thin mats.

Naturally, they shivered in the cold and barely managed to doze off in a curled position. Yet no one complained.

“Ugh...”

Unlike the others, the boy—Makjeong—slept deeply for the first time in a long while.

Compared to the harsh month he had spent wandering through the mountains, this place felt like a palace.

There were no biting winds swirling through the valleys or beasts rustling in the dark, ready to pounce.

Instead, the warmth of a hundred bodies crammed together felt almost comforting.

With the added cushion of straw mats and a layer of hay on top, it was as if he were wrapped in a thick blanket.

On top of that, Makjeong had eaten hot food the night before—something he hadn’t done in what felt like forever. With his stomach full, he even drooled in his sleep.

—Bang!

“Wake up!”

Before the sun had fully risen, the soldiers stormed in, shouting and prodding the conscripts awake with their spear shafts.

The men groaned and stumbled to their feet, their hair sticking out wildly and their clothes still wrinkled.

“Ugh, that was a good night’s sleep...”

Makjeong scratched his face with fingernails blackened from grime. Sleeping in such filth had left his body crawling with lice, and now he itched all over.

“Everyone, get outside! Form ten lines!”

The soldiers did another headcount once the conscripts were lined up. After that, they were given breakfast.

The meal was nothing more than boiled millet mashed into lumps and served with warm water, but no one complained. They accepted it gratefully, sitting down wherever they could find space to eat.

Despite the morning chill, the conscripts quickly devoured their small portions. The soldiers then handed out straw sandals—the only supplies the army seemed willing to spare.

‘It’s been a while since I wore shoes.’

Makjeong slipped his feet into the sandals, flexing his toes against the rough texture.

Over the past month, he had lived like a wild animal, tearing through the forest barefoot. His soles had split open, healed, and split again.

It was a miracle they hadn’t gotten infected despite his malnourishment.

Now, with the sandals on, the ground felt unbelievably soft.

‘So this is what straw sandals feel like... If I’d had even ten pairs of these, I might’ve made it all the way to Shang Kingdom by now.’

When he was still Han Yegum, he had never worn anything as crude as straw sandals.

Who would have dared put such things on the youngest son of General Han Jin?

As Makjeong quietly marveled at the sandals, grumbling voices drifted from nearby.@@@@

“What the hell is this? They’re sending us to fight, and they won’t even give us a single spear? Are we just meat shields?”

The complaint came from a large, broad-shouldered man standing beside him.

“They probably think we’ll run if they give us weapons. Maybe they’ll hand them out once we reach the battlefield.”

This time, it was a lean and sharp-looking man who answered. The two of them continued muttering to each other, careful to keep their voices low.

“Still, this is too much. We’re not prisoners, are we? What’s your name?”

“Yeopchi.”

The larger man, who had called himself Gaesang, glanced around to make sure the soldiers weren’t listening before leaning closer to Yeopchi.

“We’re heading east, right?”

“Of course. The Shang bastards invaded from there, so that’s where we’re going.”

“You look like you’ve handled a blade before.”

Gaesang’s eyes roamed over Yeopchi’s lean, wiry frame, sizing him up.

Yeopchi’s sharp features and piercing gaze made it obvious—he wasn’t just some ordinary laborer.

“Yeah, I know how to swing whatever’s in my hand. Heh.”

Yeopchi’s casual reply suggested he’d fought before, though he left out the details.

“What about you?”

Yeopchi nodded toward Gaesang.

The larger man forced a smile and scratched his head.

“Me? I just chopped wood for a living. Haha.”

But Yeopchi didn’t buy it. He stared at Gaesang like he’d just heard the world’s worst lie.

Gaesang quickly shifted his attention and tapped Makjeong’s arm.

“Hey, kid. You look pretty young. How old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

Makjeong didn’t like Gaesang’s tone, but he decided it wouldn’t hurt to stay on the good side of someone who looked strong.

“Seventeen? Seventeen, huh... Damn. You should’ve stayed home and shoveled dung or chopped wood instead of ending up in a place like this.”

“Like I had a choice. I got caught and dragged here.”

Recalling the lessons of his sword master, Jangjo, he focused on controlling his breath and calming his mind.

No matter how cruel fate was, Makjeong had already vowed to carve out his own path.

By afternoon, the march continued.

Makjeong took turns with others, helping to guide the oxen pulling the carts.

He thought back to when he had ridden horses as Han Yegum.

Now, he was walking beside an ox, holding its reins. The stark difference weighed on him, but he quickly shook off the thought.

He repeated Master Jangjo’s words to himself, steadying his resolve.

When the sun dipped toward the western horizon, the officer finally gave the order to stop.

“Frontline halt! We camp here tonight! Everyone, gather around! Team leaders, check your numbers!”

“Line up! Count off from the front!”

“Bring the carts over here! Didn’t you hear me? Move!”

After a brief commotion, the soldiers finished organizing the camp.

They stacked the carts together and cleared the area of underbrush to make space for sleeping and firewood.

Once the preparations were complete, the conscripts lined up to receive their rations.

“Damn it. We’re no better than beggars.”

Gaesang grumbled as he sat down next to Makjeong and Yeopchi.

The rations were just balls of boiled grain—about the size of a fist.

It wasn’t nearly enough to fill their stomachs, but for Makjeong, it was more than enough.

His month of living like a fugitive had already lowered his standards to that of a beggar.

Slurp.

Makjeong devoured his portion and licked his fingers clean.

Yeopchi, who had been watching, broke off a small piece of his own ration and handed it to him.

“Here. Eat this too.”

“What?”

Makjeong looked at him in surprise.

Food was precious. They needed all the energy they could get to fight—or to run.

Yet Yeopchi was offering him some of his share.

“We’ll eat better once we reach the battlefield. But we might be thrown into a fight the moment we get there, so you need to recover as much as possible.”

Makjeong realized Yeopchi had been worried about him.

His appearance alone—battered and starved—made it clear he wasn’t in good shape.

“...Thank you.”

Grateful, Makjeong accepted the food.

Even if it was just a bite, it felt like a lifeline.

“Hey. I’m bigger than you, so I can’t give you much. I’ll need my strength to keep walking tomorrow.”

Gaesang, too, broke off a small piece and handed it over.

“Thanks.”

Makjeong bowed his head and ate it in one bite.

It wasn’t much, but it was the first act of kindness he’d received since losing everything.

And somehow, it eased the tightness in his chest, loosening the knot of fear and despair.

*****

That night, the conscripts pulled out straw mats from the carts and laid them down on the ground.

As darkness fell, the only sounds were the snores of exhausted men.

Makjeong lay down but kept his eyes open, scanning the camp.

Soldiers stood guard outside the circle of conscripts, their spears glinting in the firelight.

‘Could I escape...?’

Makjeong calculated his odds.

He could run.

But his body wasn’t ready.

Even if he escaped the soldiers, he’d be defenseless in the wilderness—hungry, weak, and easy prey.

The archers worried him most.

If he stumbled while fleeing, an arrow in the back was almost guaranteed.

‘Forget it... Even if I escape, I’ll just starve to death in the mountains. I guess I’ll have to survive long enough to reach the battlefield first. Damn it...’

Sighing, Makjeong closed his eyes.

He didn’t know what trials awaited him, but for now, his priority was clear—recover, survive, and endure.