425.
Yun Dam’s attempt to strike the enemy’s command ship failed once again.
That day, the air over Lake Poyang was unnervingly taut.
The sky pressed down in shades of ash and black, and above the distant mountain ridges hung streaks of cloud like bruised rain bands.
Mist lay thin across the surface of the water, thickening again whenever it mixed with gun smoke.
Then the wind changed.
At first, the wind that had blown down from upstream split across the center of the lake and turned westward.
A few breaths later, it reversed again, now blowing from the southeast.
The fleets began to sway.
The oarsmen lifted their heads in unison.
“General—
the wind has split in two.”
Park Seong-jin’s eyes flickered calmly.
He had already felt it.
The air over Lake Poyang carried the twisted imprint of the battlefield.
When the wind divides, the waterways divide.
When the waterways divide, the positions of movement change.
Park Seong-jin read that division with his body.
The wind shifted again.
This time, it favored the Ming.
Zhu Yuanzhang’s counterattack began at once.
Fire attack.
Across the lake, the Ming formations swelled like the breathing of a beast.
Points of light grew larger, then linked together.
What had been sparks became lines.
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A formation of fire took shape.
“Fire attack.
The Ming are launching fire.”
A headwind struck straight on.
The surface of Lake Poyang tore roughly, battering the bows of the great ships.
The flames failed to ride the wind and were pushed back instead.
Smoke spread low across the decks.
The fire came from the front.
The smoke could not rise and hovered at the height of men’s faces.
With every breath, the stench of burning forced itself deep into the lungs.
“The wind blocks it!”
The oarsmen shouted.
The oars could not cut through the wind and were dragged by the current instead.
The great ships slowed.
Ming artillery vessels advanced with the wind at their backs.
Fire burst from their gunports.
BOOM—
A cannonball struck the side of a great ship.
The flames did not spread, but the impact drove deep.
The sound of splintering wood echoed below the deck.
The headwind stopped the fire but left the smoke.
The smoke could not escape and seeped into the hull.
Screams erupted from the lower decks.
“I can’t see!”
“I can’t breathe!”
Soldiers clutched the railings and coughed.
Tears streamed down their faces, with no time to wipe them away.
By Yun Dam’s orders, the deck had already been soaked.
Prepared mud smothered the flames.
The fire did not spread widely.
But the smoke did not lessen.
It pressed against the wind and poured into the ship.
Ming fire arrows flew without end.
Those unable to ride the wind bounced across the deck, their embers dying, leaving only black smoke.
That smoke, in turn, crushed the men.
“Bring water!”
“Vent the smoke below!”
At that moment, Ming light craft closed in.
They rode the headwind, turning sharply to cut into the flanks.
Grappling hooks flew.
The clash of metal rang out.
The instant hooks caught along the sides of the great ships, soldiers swarmed aboard.
Above, men fought the fire.
Below, close combat erupted.
Bodies shoved against bodies.
Blood mixed with mud.
Park Seong-jin looked down from above.
More than fire, the smoke was terrifying.
Smoke blinded the eyes, muffled the ears, and slowed judgment.
The great ship lurched once.
Its bow lifted against the headwind, then slammed down.
Water splashed up over the deck.
“The ship’s being pushed!”
The oarsmen rowed again.
But the wind pressed down on the oar blades.
No matter how much strength they poured in, speed would not come.
The Ming artillery ships opened their gunports once more.
BOOM—
This time, the stern.
Not fire, but fragments tore through the deck.
A man’s leg was severed cleanly away.
The fire did not spread.
Instead, the ship slowed further.
A slowed ship becomes a target.
A target is struck again.
The smoke thickened.
Soldiers leapt into the water.
It was easier to breathe there than on the deck.
Faces surfaced, then vanished one by one.
Arrows cut through the water after them.
From the railing, Yun Dam read the wind.
“Not yet.”
He watched not the flames, but the flow of smoke.
He watched where it thinned.
He calculated the moment when the wind would briefly fall still.
The great fleet held.
It struggled, but it did not collapse.
The headwind blocked the fire attack and stretched the battle long.
That day on Lake Poyang, Chen Youliang’s forces did not burn.
They fought choking on smoke, barely holding on, buying time.
They prayed for the wind to change.
