315.
When victory was confirmed, Park Seong-jin was the first to lower his blade.
Only when the strength left his hand did he feel the weight.
Not the weight of the sword, but the weight of the time he had survived.
Around him, cheers erupted, mixed with calls for medics.
All those sounds were proof of life.
And that living became his responsibility.
Park Seong-jin looked to the river.
The water that had washed away fire and blood flowed again as if nothing had happened.
The river was always like that—
it bore human decisions, then went on flowing.
The feeling of victory did not linger.
What remained in its place was calculation.
Who lived, who died.
Who could return, and who had to stay.
He recalled the fact that he had killed Chang Yuchun.
It had been necessary.
The law of war.
That law did not make his breathing lighter.
His middle danjeon was calm.
The energy was not scattered, and the mind was fixed without wavering.
That was precisely why it felt heavier.
With no shaking, there was nowhere to evade.
A soldier approached and bowed.
"General, we await your orders."
Park Seong-jin was silent for a moment.
In that brief pause, he knew he had stepped into a deeper place.
Choice was always his burden.
"Treat the wounded first."
He spoke quietly, without tremor.
The soldier withdrew with a relieved expression.
That relief settled directly onto Park Seong-jin's shoulders.
People breathed by his judgment.
They died by his judgment.
He looked again at the river.
Victory had passed.
War remained.
And between the two, he stood.
"So winning is not the end," he thought.
"The one who wins must bear everything that remains."
From that day on, Park Seong-jin understood.
The heaviest spoil of war was not land, nor fame.
It was the tomorrow of those who survived.
By noon, the sun began to shine over the river.
Soot still stained the walls, and the shattered gate had been patched with hastily raised timbers.
Soldiers brushed ash from their armor and wiped their blades.
Charred wood smoldered, sending up low smoke.
From the north, a mounted column approached.
Through the dust cloud, red armor flashed.
It was Chen Youliang.
His soldiers were worn with exhaustion, but their eyes were still alive.
Park Seong-jin met him before the gate.
The two looked at each other in silence.
One had gained the river with blood.
The other had lost the river without trust.
Chen Youliang spoke first.
"So you truly… reclaimed Chizhou."
Park Seong-jin nodded.
"By loyalty. The night was long."
A subtle smile crossed Chen Youliang's lips—
surprise mixed with wariness.
"We look at the same enemy, but I do not yet know if we walk the same road."
Park Seong-jin replied,
"If the enemy is the same, the roads overlap.
Only the ground on which you stand is different."
"Is that so?"
"You seek to become the emperor of Jiangnan.
Goryeo seeks to help preserve peace under Heaven."
"Is that truly your aim?"
"It is."
Chen Youliang's gaze turned to the river.
Traces of the burning night still floated on the water.
"This river—until yesterday, it was a river of my blood.
Today… it has become yours."
Park Seong-jin answered quietly,
"The river belongs to no one."
Silence passed.
Banners fluttered.
The wind moved on.
Chen Youliang extended his hand.
"Hard to believe… but having come this far, I must believe.
You came so quickly.
And reclaimed it like this.
From now on, we go together—as allies, as comrades."
Park Seong-jin took his hand.
The palm was rough.
Amid the smells of blood and ash, another scent was faintly mixed—
trust, or necessity.
For now, they wore the same face.
Beside them, Yun Dam murmured softly,
"He who gains the river gains the land.
He who gains hearts gains the world."
That afternoon, Chen Youliang's army entered Chizhou.
Shoulder to shoulder with the Goryeo troops, they repaired walls, carried water to burned villages, and treated each other's wounded.
As hands and feet began to align, words followed belatedly.
Council at Chizhou — "Binding Three Rivers into One"
Three days after the fires of Chizhou were extinguished, the city was once again full of human voices.
The sound of repairing walls, of hauling supplies, of trade returning to the market.
On the southern gate tower at the city's center, three men sat facing one another.
The wind stirred the banners, and the river lines on the map trembled.
Yun Dam spoke first.
His words were courteous, but their grain did not retreat.
"Chizhou is won, but Jiangnan is still dark.
If we are not to let the flame die, we must pour oil together."
Chen Youliang frowned.
He disliked the metaphor.
"You mean an alliance with Zhang Shicheng."
Yun Dam nodded.
"Yes. An alliance with Zhang Shicheng is the oil that keeps that fire."
Chen Youliang said low,
"He is a merchant who will betray us at any time."
Yun Dam smiled slowly.
The smile was not smug—only practical.
"Which is why he is preferable.
Those who know to leave when profit ends can be settled.
Those who cling are more dangerous.
A merchant does not turn his back while profit remains."
Chen Youliang was silent for a moment.
"If we take his hand now, we know we will one day fight him.
That battle may be greater than this one."
Park Seong-jin spoke quietly,
"True.
If we avoid cooperation now, we lose even the ground on which we will fight tomorrow."
He pressed a fingertip to the map—
along the river line, toward Zhu Yuanzhang.
"Zhu Yuanzhang is advancing.
If we face two enemies at once, we will be torn apart.
War will happen.
The question is whether we control its timing."
Chen Youliang looked at Park Seong-jin.
Fatigue lay beneath his eyes, but resolve lived beneath that.
Park Seong-jin's voice was calm, yet edged—
the edge of a man who does not speak at length.
Yun Dam raised his head again.
"Your Majesty should think of the world as three rivers.
To the north, Zhu Yuanzhang's river.
To the south, Zhang Shicheng's river.
Between them, your river."
His finger traced the map.
Three currents collided there, bleeding into one another.
"Now these three rivers clash as they flow.
If we build a bridge, the currents become one—for a time."
He poured tea.
The fragrance spread, though all three knew it did nothing to lighten the weight of the council.
"The day of division will come.
For now, we postpone it.
The living must breathe first, and only after breathing do they walk."
Park Seong-jin added,
"Words are heavier than swords now.
An alliance with Zhang Shicheng becomes a shield against Zhu Yuanzhang's westward advance."
Chen Youliang tapped the table.
"A shield… that may one day pierce my throat."
Yun Dam lifted his cup.
"Then Your Majesty need only overturn the cup first.
For now, it is time to drink."
Chen Youliang laughed—
briefly, but from laughter long suppressed.
"Very well. Just this once, I'll drink."
What a single victory brought was immense.
Above all, Chen Youliang agreed with surprising ease in such discussions.
He extended his hand.
Yun Dam took it.
Then Park Seong-jin.
Chen Youliang immediately set conditions.
"Conclude the negotiations.
Even if his price is high, do not break—keep him hanging.
One condition only: he must strike from the east at the same time.
If not simultaneous, the alliance is worthless."
"Understood."
Park Seong-jin added one more thing.
"Zhu Yuanzhang will not stay still after losing Chizhou.
He will attack immediately.
He will seek vengeance for Chang Yuchun—
one of the generals he prized most."
Chen Youliang frowned.
"If it was so urgent… you might have spared him."
Park Seong-jin did not avert his eyes.
"Now is not the time to leave capable generals alive on the enemy's side.
We must keep breaking those under Zhu Yuanzhang.
We must leave him without hands and feet.
Three or four must be killed.
He has many excellent generals beneath him."
Wind swept over the tower, snapping the banners wide.
That day, atop Chizhou's walls, the three rivers briefly looked like a single current.
All three knew—
water always divides again.