The Jurchens didn’t stop at any city, unlike the Japanese.

They had only one goal: the capital. Once the capital was in their control, food, weapons, supplies, anything was theirs. They could have gold, women, meat. Silver, concubines, grains. Copper, servants, wine. Everything, everyone. The whole world was theirs. The whole peninsula to them. The whole land under the sky. 

They had a goal. And they were about to accomplish it. Because the Jurchens can, and they certainly will. With the help of Chief Wanyan, they shall rise to the leading power in Asia.

There was a saying - with great power comes great responsibility. Chief Wanyan shook his head. He believed that with great power comes great rewards. He looked at his silver ancestral dagger. It reflected a beam of light. It flashed into his eye, like a new sun from the east, refreshed and reborn.

The sun reflected against his cold, hard skin. A layer of frost melted on his shoulders, and Wanyan felt the water soak into his blood-coated fur vest. It was warm here, and he liked it. Once he was told to stand in a blizzard for thirteen hours, but he snuck in a bucket of charcoal, and started a fire. He was lazy, but strong.

A life of sleet and snow in the north was a harsh and cruel life. It sharpened them into sharp and merciless icicles, ready to plunge themselves into their enemies, killing them with ease and efficiency. Now, they were ready for their southwards expansion. 

The Japanese were foolish, waiting for a chance to win the battle. Waiting was cowardice, unlike the Jurchen, who were the living definition of braveness. They would sculpt a chance themselves, with their bare hands. Great power indeed.

The future was winking at them. Probably a future that they deserved, considering their armaments and power. A fruitful future for them.

Yasuo Namekawa was still at Incheon.

He was standing on a sole flagpole, on the city wall. He was perfectly balanced, and was standing as still as the flagpole itself.

Originally, this was supposed to be a Goryeo headquarters, but for all he knew, Goryeo and Joseon were all enemy. Sometimes, even the Emperor of Japan seemed like an enemy. He liked to work alone, for he himself was the only person to trust. The other people were enemies, or potential enemies. And he was merciless towards enemies.

He cast his eyes yet again at the smoking castle far, far away. He had been in this position for a long period of time, but he never got tired. It reminded him of his apprenticeship, when he had been forced to stand in a blizzard for thirteen hours. They had to excavate him out of the snow, and he had been forced to replace his damaged elbows with metal ones, which made his assassinating life easier.

He dipped his head. Another feeling told him that the battle would not end in Hanseong. No, it would continue, like a flame a piece of paper, until the war spread to the whole land. Or, the war would end in a very short period of time.

Some people compared him to a stray cat in the alleyways. Lithe, silent and cruel. But he knew when to strike. He preferred to use neither brain nor brawn, opting to use both at once.

Some people said that he was too arrogant. These people now lie in tombs and cemeteries.

He was not arrogant. He was anything other than arrogant. 

Different from the Jurchens.

Bukhansan. Hanseong.

His erse eyes stared at her the entire time.

How quaint it was, to be losing the great battle, yet he was a step away from acquiring his desires and lusts. Even if he died — well, he would die with accomplishment, and that was glory in its largest.

Buying materials from the black market was very convenient. It depended on what to buy. A crate of opium? The newest blueprints for the Western guns? No problem. So it really wasn’t hard to acquire drugs. Especially a common drug like this... it only cost him a few pennies and a soldier’s life.

The drug was evil, and he knew that. It would turn a kind, caring boy into a slashing, lustful wolf, a pretty, quiet girl into a dribbling, erse fox. It erased all memories and politeness, replaced with a never ending sense of lust and love. It was easy enough to acquire such a horrific drug.

He had tried it himself. It worked, and now he was lustful and foolish. How did he turn, from a thinking, planning schemer to a desiring, cowardly imbecile? The drug was the answer.

But, he had retained some of his slyness, to cook up a devilish plan like this.

He smiled with satisfaction as the water disappeared down her gullet, drop by drop. The cup was ordinary enough, and the water certainly looked harmless. But the powder gave off a taste, and he was careful enough to measure the exact amount in order to let the water retain its odourless flavour.

It’s about time the effect took place, he thought. Why is she still wearing that expressionless face?

The scholar knew better than to explain these events to the class.

What happened there was very, very, explicit and evil. The sheer knowledge of the drug’s effects was enough to send a grown, mature woman screaming for their mother. Fortunately, the recipe for this drug was destroyed. But still, many people replicated the