Black and White Martial Emperor

“Phew... this is suffocating.”

With his knees drawn up and hugged tight, Yeon Jipyeong’s face looked terribly gloomy.

“Am I the one who’s wrong?”

Jipyeong was stifled.

He had lived his whole life by the Yeon Clan’s law and teachings, and the thing his brother did two days ago at Choseong Pavilion had shocked him to the core.

Brother.

Jipyeong pictured Yeon Hojeong from that day.

Eyes so cold that even a north wind would startle and flee. Even when someone fighting a villain was in danger, his brother showed not a flicker of concern.

He did eventually go to help the Je Gal siblings, but up to that point he hadn’t shown a single action you could call orthodox.

There are people who say the result is what matters, so what’s the problem. But by Jipyeong’s measure, the process was no less important than the result.

He didn’t know what his brother had been thinking, but what his brother did then was clearly wrong.

So Jipyeong was confused. His brother had made things hard for him once, but he had never—not once—thought his brother was a bad person.

If anything, he’d thought of him as kind and weak. He’d even regretted his own thoughtless behavior that had crushed such a brother.

Right. He must have had his reasons. Even if a villain was on him... if there weren’t circumstances, my brother wouldn’t have done that.

Yes. It had been bewildering, but he could swallow it—up to there.

But when his brother killed the arsonist, Ma Bang, that sight was pure shock.

It was too horrible.

Thinking of that moment made Jipyeong feel gooseflesh rise again.

After subduing his opponent with overwhelming skill, his brother had grabbed him by the collar and dragged him up to the wall of fire.

Then, with a blank face, he had hurled the villain into the flames. Cold as ice.

Burned a man alive...

Even after killing him that cruelly, his brother didn’t seem shaken at all.

If he’d at least looked exhilarated, that would have been something. But the way he watched Ma Bang die—his eyes were the apex of numbness.

You wouldn’t look so unfeeling even at a pebble kicked along the road. That act, those eyes, that air—were an enormous shock to Jipyeong.

Brother. Are you really the brother I know?

He no longer knew what was what.

After burying his face in his knees for a long while, Jipyeong sighed and stood.

“I’m being stupid.”

If you have a question, you can ask. If there’s a misunderstanding, you can clear it. Brooding wasn’t going to solve anything anyway. Jipyeong wanted to go speak with Yeon Hojeong.

Walking back toward where the party was resting, Jipyeong suddenly spotted a man and a woman moving off farther away.

Huh? Brother?

It was his brother and the Je Gal Clan’s daughter.

Where are they going?

After a brief hesitation, Jipyeong followed behind them.

He didn’t know how long he’d gone when—

“This should do.”

“......”

“I have some questions.”

“Ah, yes!”

Questions?

Curiosity stirred across Jipyeong’s face. Normally, he would have felt averse to eavesdropping on someone’s conversation, but now he watched as if under a spell.

“How much do you know about your clan?”

“Pardon?”

Hojeong’s eyes flashed.

In the dark woods, the cold blue sheen in his eyes was eerie like phosphorus. Je Gal Ahyeon involuntarily drew in a sharp breath.

“When you fought the arsonist, the martial art you used was anything but ordinary.”

“T-that was...”

“Judging by its level, even if it’s the clan’s secret, it fits. Your cultivation of it was lacking, but the art itself is highly complete.”

“......”

“Unless you’re the ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) next heir, there’s no way they’d pass that kind of martial art along so lightly—even to blood.”

A flush crept up Ahyeon’s neck.

“Are you saying I stole a martial art and learned it?”

“That’s not what I’m saying.”

“Then...?”

“I’m asking whether the Je Gal Clan holds enough arts that you would pass a secret art even to someone who isn’t the successor.”

Ahyeon tilted her head.

It was hard to grasp the point. Do we have many martial arts? Of course. A house on the level of the Je Gal would own hundreds.

“I’ll make it simpler. Does your clan possess heterogeneous arts?”

“By ‘heterogeneous,’ you mean...?”

“Orthodox arts—but arts that have never appeared in the Central Plains.”

Even if he asked that, if the person didn’t answer honestly that would be that. But Hojeong didn’t expect truth from the outset.

He looked for only one thing.

The other’s eyes.

Tempered in a Demonic Path life of betrayals beyond counting and brushes with death without number, his discernment was second to none. Not just Hojeong—those who had survived long on the Demonic Path had that kind of discernment as a basic skill.

Eyes alone and a few exchanged words—sharp enough to pierce a person’s nature.

Meticulous and stubborn enough to verify again and again even after he’d already confirmed it.

It was why Yeon Hojeong could be called the Dark Emperor, why he’d stood at the peak of the Demonic Path and survived so long.

“I don’t know why you’re asking, but... even if I do know, I can’t tell you my clan’s affairs.”

Ahyeon answered calmly.

She had never chatted with him in private, but she already perceived Yeon Hojeong as dangerous. He was the sort of man you mustn’t give even a trivial thing.

Hojeong’s eyes deepened.

Ahyeon swallowed without meaning to.

What is this man, really?

Is he truly the First Young Master of the Yeon Clan of Green Mountain?

As the eldest of one of the Seven Great Clans, he should be different—markedly so. But Yeon Hojeong strayed far beyond that degree.

It wasn’t the martial skill. Those eyes and that air—they were exactly those of a warrior who had seen everything there is to see.

Like watching a savage fighter walk the wilderness, unhurried, after cutting down innumerable foes.

He’s like Uncle Hwang.

Not in strength, but in temperament. Uncle Hwang was the roughest, sharpest, most frightening person she knew.

Hojeong nodded after a silent look at Ahyeon.

“I see.”

“Yes.”

“......”

“Sorry?”

“I said I see. You can go.”

Ahyeon was taken aback again.

What is with this man?

When he first called her over, his eyes had been fierce enough to devour her on the spot. Now he looked bored, like everything in the world was a bother, and told her to go.

...Insulting, actually. Why am I being treated like this?

“Excuse me.”

“What?”

Now that she’d spoken, she couldn’t think of what to say.

Ahyeon was, for the third time, flustered by her own hesitation. She was always decisive anywhere, but strangely, she shrank in front of Yeon Hojeong.

What did I ever do wrong to this man that I keep...

Her expression hardened.

She bowed her head.

“I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“What happened to us siblings—strictly speaking, it happened because of me. I put you in needless danger over my business. I sincerely apologize.”

She cupped her fists in salute and bent at the waist.

It was an action soaked with sincerity. Though her bowed head hid her face, he could guess it was full of self-reproach.

“Were they enemies with a grudge against you?”

“Rather than a grudge...”

Ahyeon briefly explained the situation.

Hojeong nodded.

“Then you have nothing to apologize for.”

“Pardon?”

“You helped someone out of goodwill, and that’s what brought it about. The ones who should be punished are the bastards who chased you to the end—not you. You did no wrong, so there’s no need to apologize.”

“S-still...”

“If it weighs on you, go to the pavilion and the people who suffered and give material aid. That’s what you should do.”

Ahyeon couldn’t answer easily.

No guilt because she acted out of goodwill?

It was true. If she were Yeon Hojeong, she would have said the same.

It was only strange that Yeon Hojeong was the one saying it. From what she had seen, he was closer to a cold-blooded pragmatist.

“That... of course I will.”

“Good.”

“......”

“Well? Not going?”

“Can I ask just one thing?”

“What.”

“I’m saying this first: I’m not interrogating you. I have no right to interrogate you. I’m asking because I really want to know, so please don’t take offense.”

“So what is it?”

“Don’t you think it was rather cruel?”

“Hm?”

“That man who burned to death. The one who called himself Thunderfire Hall’s Hall Lord.”

Hojeong cocked his head.

“Why would that be cruel?”

“To most people, it would be cruel enough. I’m sure everyone who saw it was shocked.”

“For something that trivial?”

“...Not trivial. Even an enemy—burning a person alive?”

“Well, I suppose one could think that.”

He brushed it off. Ahyeon clicked her tongue at his indifference.

“He was a villain who set fires to kill common folk, but I still think you went a bit far. It’s not exactly a normal method, is it?”

“Then is lopping a head off in one stroke the normal method?”

“...W-well, not that, but at least there’s no pain.”

“That won’t do. He had to die in pain.”

Ahyeon’s eyes went round.

“If he’d targeted only you and your brother, that would be one thing. But he also set needless fires to kill countless commoners. That is a death-qualifying crime.”

“That’s true, but still.”

“Death is fair to everyone. To villains and to the upright. In that case, at least the process before reaching death should be painful—that’s what I think.”

“Do you see yourself as a judge?”

“I’m not a judge. That’s why I don’t throw them in a cell—I kill them.”

What a brutal man.

Ahyeon was startled by his words, and at the same time felt a strange envy.

She didn’t know how deep his meditation had gone, but Yeon Hojeong had conviction. He had a standard that was his and immovable.

Sometimes living simply is harder than living complicated. His thought was simple, but it was a simplicity paired with agony beyond imagining.

Coming this far, it was even harder to believe.

How old is this man, anyway?

His speech, his thought, his decisiveness, his martial skill—none of it looked his age.

Staring at him, Ahyeon suddenly snorted a laugh.

“Thank you.”

“How many times are you going to say that?”

“Weren’t you the one who settled my internal injuries and drew the poison from my brother?”

Hojeong didn’t answer.

Ahyeon bowed her head again.

“You’re a benefactor to us. This favor—I’ll repay it somehow.”

“No need.”

“You know that? You talk like an old man.”

“Be quiet.”

“Tch. Stiff, aren’t you.”

Grumbling, Ahyeon turned to go.

“Talking this much right after waking makes me hungry. I should scrounge something. Want to come?”

Hojeong glanced toward the brush.

Rustle.

The movement in the brush drew farther away. Like a mole scuttling.

“Sure.”

“Heh.”

“Don’t walk so close.”

“Ah—pardon.”

“......”

“By the way, how old are you?”

“Forty-six.”

“Don’t lie, sir.”

“Eighteen.”

“Wha—?! Hey! I’m older! I’m a year older than you!”

“......”

“Want to be friends?”

“No need.”