Black and White Martial Emperor

“Huh? The gathering of the younger generation?”

“That’s right.”

Yeon Wi did not even look at Yeon Jipyeong. He was rapidly flipping through several documents, his eyes sweeping across the pages with practiced familiarity.

“The Seven Great Clans’ younger generation gathering is held every year. But once every five years, attendance is mandatory. This year is one of those.”

Unease flickered across Jipyeong’s face.

“Am... am I going?”

“Is there a problem?”

“N-no! Not at all...”

Yeon Wi handed over a folded paper. Jipyeong accepted it respectfully.

“It’s the gathering permit. Forty-five days from now, in Hefei of Anhui. To arrive on time, you should leave at least half a month in advance.”

A master of lightness arts could cross the distance in as little as five days if pushing hard. But they would have to cross the Yangtze, and the terrain would be unfamiliar. And since this was a formal gathering, he had to arrive in proper condition; thus, leaving half a month early was only right.

“The Azure Hawk Squad will escort you. Do well.”

Jipyeong’s eyes widened.

“The Azure Hawk Squad?”

“Not the entire unit. One detachment will accompany you—and its Captain will lead them.”

The Azure Hawk Squad was one of the Yeon Clan’s elite strike forces. Few in number, but each member was a formidable master. They were rarely dispatched into the martial world lightly.

That such a unit would be sent showed how important this gathering was.

“Um... Father.”

“Speak.”

Jipyeong looked troubled.

“If this is the younger generation’s gathering... shouldn’t my brother be the one to attend?”

Yeon Wi paused in turning the papers, then raised his head to look at his son.

Jipyeong flinched.

He had seen those eyes countless times, but still they frightened him. As clear and hard as glass imported from the Western Regions.

Brother... I’m still afraid of Father.

He swallowed hard, waiting.

“Your brother would be in danger.”

“What?”

Brother, in danger? What did that mean?

Yeon Wi turned fully toward him.

“Don’t you think your brother has changed greatly of late?”

Jipyeong faltered.

His father rarely spoke outside matters of martial arts, study, clan law, or etiquette. A personal question like this was a first.

“I... I suppose he’s changed a little.”

“Not a little.”

“...”

“His temperament, his martial achievement—it’s not the Hojeong I’ve known. It’s as if he has become another person entirely.”

Jipyeong had felt the same. More than in his martial arts, it was his brother’s demeanor that had shifted. He seemed so much more adult now.

“But when you say he’s in danger...”

“The Namgung Clan’s younger generation will, of course, attend this gathering.”

“Ah!”

“Judging from Hojeong’s present nature, he won’t avoid confrontation. Not disputes that could be borne, nor those that couldn’t.”

Jipyeong bit his lip.

Now he understood. His father was sending him in his brother’s place—out of concern for Hojeong.

“Please... at least ask him once for his opinion.”

“....”

“I beg you, Father.”

Yeon Wi’s gaze deepened.

He studied his second son in silence, then nodded.

“I will.”

“Thank you.”

“You may go.”

Jipyeong bowed and left the hall. As the doors closed, Yeon Wi resumed his documents.

But only for a moment.

He set the papers aside and leaned back in his chair, his eyes drifting upward. A trace of confusion flickered there.

“...Change.”

****

Whoosh!

The heavy iron staff carved the air with a savage sound.

“Huff, huff!”

His whole body ached—legs, waist, back, shoulders, everywhere.

The iron staff was as tall as Yeon Hojeong himself and weighed nearly twenty catties. He had been swinging it since supper until well past midnight. The fact that he was still on his feet was itself remarkable.

Drip.

Blood fell from his hands gripping the staff.

He could push no further. Hojeong thrust the ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) staff forward with force.

Boom!

The staff’s tip struck a boulder, making it tremble.

The impact sent a jarring vibration through his hands, wrists, elbows, shoulders, even his spine—every joint screaming. His grip slipped on his blood-slick palms.

“Kh!”

Clang!

The iron staff dropped to the ground.

Breathing hard, Hojeong looked down at his hands, distaste written on his face.

“This is my limit for now?”

His original training weapon had been the sword.

But his body never suited the sword. Better his bare hands and open palms than a blade.

After countless battles, he had finally found the weapon that did fit him.

A massive axe mounted on a six-foot shaft. A heavy weapon weighing dozens of catties, perfectly matched to his nature and martial arts.

Later, he had even hung chains from it, sweeping out a storm over a range of more than thirty feet.

If I can’t even handle a mere iron staff...

To wield such a weapon, he had to master staff arts, spear arts, and hand axes alike. Yet here he was, unable to swing a staff not even twenty catties through the night.

As he had felt during his Horse Stance training, the road ahead would be rough.

Hojeong picked up a small hand axe he had left beneath a tree.

His torn palms stung. He toyed with the axe a few times, then hurled it at a thick tree trunk.

Whsssh! Thunk!

The axe bit deep into the wood.

The feel is good enough.

Leaning back against the tree with the axe embedded in it, Hojeong looked up at the sky.

I know the path to strength. And I’ll work harder, not less, than before.

He had to prevent the annihilation of his clan. To do that, he had to become strong.

But that alone wasn’t enough.

I can’t just wait until then.

Even if he somehow regained his past strength in a year and a half, it would be a problem.

With the Dark Emperor’s might and strategy, he could avert annihilation. But sacrifices would be inevitable. Father, or Jipyeong, could be among them.

That... he could not endure.

I need something besides my own power to safeguard the clan. Be it intelligence, or force, or whatever it takes.

He had to amass strength so great that strategy itself was unnecessary. Yet even with such strength, a single misstep could still ruin everything.

The problem is...

His face twisted.

“I don’t even know who they were.”

After learning martial arts from his master, the first thing he did when he entered the world was hunt for the killers.

Alone, he could not. So he plunged into the Demonic Path, whose information network surpassed the Orthodox martial world, and pursued their trail.

But even then, he never learned who they were.

“One thing’s certain—they weren’t of the Demonic Path.”

Their techniques were clearly orthodox. Twisted beyond tracing, but their qi and their fa-jin patterns bore the Orthodox mark.

“To unleash so many masters of that level, only the Nine Great Sects or the Seven Great Clans could manage it.”

And most decisive of all—

“...There’s a high chance of an internal traitor.”

It wasn’t certain. He had no proof. And Father was not a man to be easily betrayed.

But if, indeed, there was a traitor within the Yeon Clan?

Hojeong muttered grimly.

“Enough. No use dwelling on what I can’t yet know. Damn, listen to me. I was never one to brood like this.”

It was only because he had died, and returned. And because what he had to protect now was his clan.

In any case, I need to expand both force and information. To build power in secret, quietly...

His eyes gleamed.

There’s only that way, isn’t there?

He had intended to wait until clan matters were settled before reaching out. But now he saw—using him might yield two gains at once.

Even if he offers no real help, just his name would be invaluable.

Hojeong stood.

“Good. I’ve decided.”

“What have you decided?”

He jumped.

Hojeong looked across the grove. At the bamboo grove’s entrance, leading to his quarters, stood Yeon Wi, arms folded.

“Father.”

“Training, were you?”

Hojeong felt a jolt of unease. He had been so deep in thought he’d spoken aloud. Had Father overheard?

“When did you arrive?”

“Just now. I called, but you didn’t answer.”

Whew.

Relief washed over him. From his tone, Father hadn’t heard.

“What brings you here, Father?”

Yeon Wi’s eyes dropped to his hands.

“You’ve bloodied them.”

“What? Ah, this?”

“You swung until your hands were in that state?”

“It’s nothing.”

He brushed them as if it truly didn’t matter. Painful as it was, his expression never wavered.

“You don’t train with the sword?”

“No.”

“Our clan has many excellent arts. But we lack advanced staff and spear manuals.”

“That’s all right.”

He already knew staff and spear arts of the highest level. And in truth, his true martial art was neither staff nor spear.

“It is not all right. You are the First Young Master. You must refine martial arts worthy of that station.”

“Forcing myself to train in arts unsuited to my body is not right.”

“What?”

Yeon Wi was visibly taken aback.

“You mean the sword doesn’t suit you?”

“That’s correct.”

“And why do you think so?”

“There’s nothing to think. The body tells you.”

“Explain yourself.”

“Martial arts are study felt through the body, before the mind. If, by focusing on my body, I find a way for it to move more efficiently—then that’s the path I must take.”

“So for you, that path is the staff?”

“Not exactly. But first I must master staff and spear.”

“To master them... are you thinking of the halberd, or the war axe?”

Now it was Hojeong’s turn to be surprised.

So learned...

Most martial men mastered their chosen weapons but had little grasp of others.

Not Father. From a few words, he had inferred heavy arms. Truly, he had deep insight into weapons.

His earlier words—that a martial man should be able to turn even a branch into a weapon of full force—were no idle boast.

“I intend to try a variety. But... what brings you here, Father?”

Yeon Wi knew his son wanted to change the subject.

So he allowed it. Or perhaps he simply chose the more pressing matter.

“This year’s gathering of the Seven Great Clans’ younger generation will bring all of them together.”

Hojeong’s eyes glinted.

That’s right...

Much of his memory was hazy. But this, he remembered. He had gone with his brother. He remembered how he, crushed by self-loathing, had not spoken to anyone.

How, on that journey, he had exchanged not a word with Jipyeong.

After a pause, Yeon Wi spoke again.

“For this gathering, I would send Jipyeong, not you.”

“Is that so?”

“It is.”

Hojeong nodded.

“Very well.”

Yeon Wi’s eyes narrowed.

“You accept so easily?”

“If it is Father’s will, I will accept. My only concern is whether the Namgung might trouble Jipyeong. But since it is not their direct grievance, and so many will be present, they won’t risk such a loss of face.”

“Are you sincere?”

“Of course. Just see to it that Jipyeong is a little more prepared before he goes. He will feel burdened, taking his brother’s place.”

Yeon Wi studied him, then shook his head.

“I will ask again.”

“Yes?”

“You truly do not wish to attend the gathering?”

Hojeong grimaced as if disgusted.

“Of course not.”

“....”

“A pack of snot-nosed brats, each trying to show off how great they are? Who the hell wants to watch that? Ugh, just picturing it makes me want to puke.”