- Wherever he passed, soldiers were pushed backward without realizing it.
The ash-gray battle cloak hung heavily from his shoulders.
Blood splattered across his body had dried into dark crusts, clinging to the hem of his garments.
In one hand he held a sword.
Across one shoulder he carried a bound man.
For a moment, no one could accept what they were seeing.
“…That… that is—”
“…No way… really…”
It was Park Seong-jin.
He did not descend like a storm and stop.
He simply walked forward—yet it felt as though an entire mountain was advancing.
Wherever he passed, soldiers were pushed backward without realizing it.
They stood gripping their hands, forgetting even how to breathe.
When Park Seong-jin took a few more steps, the face of the man slung over his shoulder caught the torchlight.
“…!”
“…!!”
“Z-Zhu Yuanzhang!”
A shudder ran through the ranks.
The man’s eyes were bloodshot.
His lips were split.
His hands and feet were tightly bound with ropes soaked dark with blood, his head forced up yet hanging limp.
Even so, it was a face anyone could recognize.
Zhu Yuanzhang.
The defeated lord of Jiangnan.
He was being dragged like baggage across Park Seong-jin’s shoulder.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.
Hushed whispers rippled through the soldiers.
“That… that really is Zhu Yuanzhang, isn’t it?”
“His face is covered in blood, but… it’s him.”
“How could… something like this…”
They looked at Park Seong-jin as if witnessing the descent of a god.
Blood dripping from his steps soaked into the ground, forming dark stains.
Park Seong-jin stopped before the command camp.
He stood still for a moment, then spoke in a low, even voice.
“It is finished.”
The words were small.
Yet the hearts of every soldier surrounded by red torchlight dropped at once.
Park Seong-jin rolled Zhu Yuanzhang off his shoulder and cast him forward.
The bound body struck the ground with a dull thud, dust rising briefly.
Zhu Yuanzhang could not steady himself and only managed to turn his face to the side.
An ungainly face—
a jutting jaw, torn eyes, fear and despair tangled with rage and resignation.
Zhu Yuanzhang.
Chen Youliang hurried forward, stopped short at the sight, and swallowed hard.
His lips trembled slightly.
“…You truly… brought him back?”
Park Seong-jin quietly clasped his fists and bowed.
“The base enemy chieftain, Zhu Yuanzhang—
I have brought him before you, General.”
At that moment, the entire camp seemed to hold its breath.
A tremor swept through the command.
Summoning his last strength, Zhu Yuanzhang forced words past his lips.
“You are defying the Mandate of Heaven!”
But as Park Seong-jin calmly pressed a hand to the back of his neck and drove him down to the floor, the voice was cut off.
Chen Youliang stepped forward slowly.
For a long moment, he could not speak.
Then he lifted his head.
In his eyes gathered the fierce light of a conquering king.
“…From today onward, the realm is overturned.”
When the words ended, Chen Youliang seized Park Seong-jin by the shoulders and pulled him into a firm embrace.
“Commander Park Seong-jin—
you have my deepest thanks!”
As news spread that Zhu Yuanzhang had been taken prisoner, the Ming formation unraveled rapidly.
Some ceased fighting.
More laid down their weapons and surrendered.
Others turned their ships and fled.
The gunports opened at once, and the air split first.
Then iron masses followed, trampling across the water’s surface.
The first shot struck the hull, and the ship’s body shuddered as if crying out.
Dry timber tore apart between planks.
The second shot hit the same place again.
Iron nails were ripped free and flew, the grain of the hull splitting wide.
On deck, the shock traveled up through the soles of their feet.
Soldiers’ knees buckled.
Spears and shields slipped from their hands and rolled across the boards.
Overlapping cannon fire echoed across the water.
The ship was no longer a vessel—it was a mass of trembling fragments.
As powder smoke covered the stern, water surged up at the bow.
It forced planks aside and filled the interior.
The water entered quietly.
In that quiet, the ship grew steadily heavier.
The mast tilted.
Taut ropes rang out—then snapped.
The sail slid down to one side.
When the final shot pierced the center, the deck split open.
The color of the water below was laid bare.
For a brief moment, the ship seemed to regain balance.
Then it lost its center and rolled sideways.
Men, wood, and iron all tipped together and poured into the surface below.
The water swallowed every sound.
Only foam remained, trembling for a long while where the fragments sank.

