Black and White Martial Emperor

Ga Deoksang grinned.

His hair was wild, his face smeared with grime, and the rags on his back were barely clothes—but his teeth shone white.

“Dragon Head Union Master, is it? Fun just to imagine. Sadly, my master’s life is tougher than a whale’s sinew. Won’t be happening for years yet.”

“...”

“But here you know this beggar, and this beggar doesn’t know you, young lord? Let’s see—if I put every bit of wits I’ve beggared up for over twenty years to guess...”

“I am Yeon Hojeong.”

“Eh?”

Yeon Hojeong, unusually, cupped his fists in salute.

“I am Yeon Hojeong, First Young Master of the Yeon Clan of Green Mountain in Jiangsu. A pleasure.”

Ga Deoksang’s eyes went round.

It was an introduction framed with etiquette and formality. There was not a hint of contempt for the other side.

“Ah... yes, a pleasure.”

He was quietly surprised.

The Beggars’ Union stands shoulder to shoulder with the Nine Sects and One Union and the Seven Great Clans—yet it’s also the faction the scions of noble houses shun most.

The reason was simple: every disciple of the Beggars’ Union presents himself as a beggar.

Veterans of the Orthodox martial world appreciate the Union’s greatness, but young men and women are different. They only hurry to avoid “dirty beggars.”

In that light, Yeon Hojeong’s greeting was indeed unusual.

‘So I see you here.’

The look in Yeon Hojeong’s eyes toward Ga Deoksang held genuine goodwill.

No wonder. Even after he’d piled up strength no weaker than the white path, the Demonic Path was scorned for being demonic. But Ga Deoksang had treated the Demonic Path as comrades in arms—sincerely.

In those barren years, he was one of the very few toward whom Yeon Hojeong felt a human fondness.

“Goodness—been a while since I’ve received a greeting like this.”

Ga Deoksang scratched hard at his head. From the looks of him a bowl of dandruff should’ve fallen, but surprisingly none did.

“Then you must be the Second Young Master of the Yeon clan?”

Yeon Jipyeong cupped his fists with crisp discipline.

“My greeting is late. I am Yeon Jipyeong, Second Young Master of the Yeon Clan of Green Mountain in Jiangsu. It’s an honor to meet the Rear Beggar of the Beggars’ Union.”

His greeting, too, was fully polite and formal. It wasn’t about goodwill on a first meeting—but there was absolutely no sign of looking down on the other.

Ga Deoksang fidgeted for no reason. It was a welcome greeting, but he wasn’t sure what face to make.

But one thing he knew—

‘Hah. Quite different from the rumors, aren’t they?’

Yeon Hojeong asked with a smile.

“Have you finished eating?”

“Eating? Ah, just finished. I ate till I burst. Can’t remember the last time I had food this good.”

“A shame. If you don’t mind, let’s share lunch.”

Startled, Yeon Jipyeong looked at his brother. He had never seen his brother ask someone first to share a meal.

Ga Deoksang nodded with a slightly sour face.

“Le—let’s do that.”

“Then rest at ease.”

“Ah, you as well.”

The Yeon brothers went into the dining hall.

Watching their backs, Ga Deoksang smacked his lips.

“I was going to pry into Choseong Pavilion from the start, piece by piece—and got ambushed instead.”

Had Yeon Hojeong read his «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» intent and moved first?

‘No.’

To become heir to the Beggars’ Union, the eye for people is essential. To Ga Deoksang, Yeon Hojeong’s goodwill was as pure as could be.

‘Which makes it stranger.’

He was scratching his head at the itch of it when—

“Are you the Rear Beggar?”

Ga Deoksang turned.

A handsome young man stood there with a blue sword at his waist—an exquisite beauty in silks.

Ga Deoksang grinned.

“Scion of the Namgung Clan?”

Namgung Hyun cupped his fists in salute.

“I am Namgung Hyun. A pleasure.”

“Ah, a pleasure.”

“What brings you here?”

“I had business nearby and dropped in, and wouldn’t you know—the younger generation are holding their gathering. The aroma rolling out the front gate was incredible. I set aside face and walked in.”

Namgung Hyun’s brows knit slightly.

It was a gathering of the Seven Great Clans’ younger generation; if someone had permitted entrance, there was no need to argue. But wasn’t the host this year the Namgung Clan? A heads-up would have been proper.

And a beggar where the children of noble houses are gathered? Even if he’s the Union’s Rear Beggar, one could hardly be pleased.

“Enjoy yourself.”

With that formal line, Namgung Hyun too headed for the dining hall.

Ga Deoksang smirked.

“That’s the normal reaction.”

There was no reason to be offended. He was over thirty and rich in worldly experience.

Only Yeon Hojeong stuck in his thoughts. The look in his eyes—too vivid.

“Have we met before, by chance?”

****

“No.”

“Ah, I see.”

“I stayed shut in at home. When would I have seen the Beggars’ Union’s little master?”

“True enough.”

“Why?”

“It’s the first time I’ve seen you ask someone to eat first.”

Is it?

Thinking on it—perhaps so. Even in his days as the Dark Emperor, unless it was a meeting to consolidate forces or heavy with political intent, he preferred to eat alone.

‘He’s the same.’

Ga Deoksang’s smile was still clear. It struck him that a man who had been the white path’s master of information being this mild was no easy thing.

‘Hm?’

A thought made Yeon Hojeong tilt his head.

‘But that man didn’t come to the past gathering.’

In the life when he was the Dark Emperor, at the younger-generation gathering he’d attended before returning to the past, he had not seen Ga Deoksang.

That was certain. He’d only met Ga Deoksang after becoming Lord of the Black Emperor’s Citadel.

‘So why now?’

What is this? Is my memory wrong? No—the chances are slim.

‘If my memory’s right, the past has changed.’

That thought carried him to the Je Gal siblings.

‘In the past, I didn’t stop at Choseong Pavilion. This time I did. Without us, the Je Gal siblings would definitely have fallen to that madman who cultivated the Yin-Fire Red class.’

That much was certain. The Thunderfire Hall Lord or whatever he was would have set the fire all the same, and given the Je Gal siblings’ temper, they wouldn’t have run—they’d have faced him.

Then what happened to them in the last life?

One thought chased another.

‘The Je Gal Clan existed then, too. Their house staggered badly, but with aid from other clans, they managed to preserve the line.’

And that house was...

“May I intrude a moment?”

Yeon Hojeong looked up.

A middle-aged swordsman stood there with a handsomely trimmed beard. His attire was perfectly ordered, and the blue long-sword over his back gave off a chilling edge.

‘Namgung!’

The swordsman frowned.

“Is something on my face?”

“I was looking because you’re handsome.”

His brow twitched. Somehow it sounded like he was being mocked.

“And you are?”

“Hmph. I am Chu Seong.”

“...?”

“I am the captain of the escort who brought the Namgung young lord to this gathering.”

Someone eating nearby sucked in a breath.

“Thunder Hero Chu Seong?!”

The murmuring swelled.

He was evidently a famed master. Yeon Jipyeong, too, looked up at Chu Seong in surprise.

But Yeon Hojeong didn’t know who Chu Seong was. He hadn’t heard the name when he stepped into the world and pacified the Demonic Path, nor when he reigned as Lord of the Black Emperor’s Citadel.

“And?”

Chu Seong’s face visibly twisted.

Even if he belonged to the Namgung Clan, he was a man over forty. As a bodyguard he’d pay respect—but seeing a much younger heir tilt at him grated.

Yeon Jipyeong realized and stood up in a fluster.

“Please, sit here first.”

Staring down at Yeon Hojeong, Chu Seong took the seat opposite. He didn’t spare Yeon Jipyeong a glance.

He spoke.

“I’ll be blunt.”

“Go ahead.”

“The banquet begins at noon.”

“I know.”

“Leave this place before the banquet.”

Yeon Jipyeong’s eyes flew wide.

“W—what do you mean?”

“Did you not hear? Then I’ll say it again. Before today’s noon banquet begins, depart from the manor.”

Unlike the flustered Yeon Jipyeong, Yeon Hojeong’s expression didn’t change.

No—there was a change: a trace of interest touched his face. Barely perceptible, but there.

“Leave, you say?”

“Yes.”

“The reason?”

“From of old, there has never been a mishap at the Seven Great Clans’ younger-generation gathering. But you turned this venerable, storied gathering into a shambles.”

Chu Seong’s eyes were glacial.

“You have no right to participate. I trust you know that yourself.”

Listening, Yeon Hojeong flicked his gaze toward the windows at the end of the hall.

Namgung Hyun sat there—at a sunlit table, sipping tea with poise.

Then—a clatter.

“That’s absurd!”

The one who sprang up so hard his chair toppled was Yeon Jipyeong.

“Yesterday’s incident has already been laid to rest! My brother said he’d apologize to everyone at today’s banquet! And now you tell us to leave?!”

“Before apologies comes the matter of decorum. Moreover, showing up bold as brass in the dining hall at dawn—one wonders whether there is any true reflection at all.”

“Don’t be unreasonable! What has coming to eat to do with reflection? And ‘decorum’—”

“I’ve said what I came to say. I’d rather we didn’t make faces over this—please leave before the banquet.”

With that, Chu Seong rose.

But Yeon Jipyeong hadn’t finished.

“Most importantly!”

His ringing voice filled the dining hall.

It was so loud one could hardly believe it came from the boy who was always laughing. Everyone here started.

“You are a house’s bodyguard. Your duty is to protect the Namgung young lord, not to judge the qualifications of participants.”

Chu Seong laughed coldly.

“Is that so?”

“What do you mean?”

“The host of the Seven Great Clans’ gathering rotates every five years. And the host this year is the Namgung Clan.”

“...!”

“I was granted authority, together with the young lord, over the operation of this gathering. Granted directly by the Clan Lord.”

“...”

“Yesterday you set things to rights, Second Young Master, so I held back. Today is different. You have a soft heart and stopped at tidying up—but I’ve no intention of leaving alone factors that could ruin the gathering.”

Yeon Jipyeong faltered. Direct orders from the Namgung Clan Lord? Hard to believe no matter how he turned it over.

But there was much he didn’t know.

The younger-generation “gathering” was, in truth, heavy on fellowship. Hence the banquet, the wine, the food.

But with young blood, mishaps are always a risk. The host clan sends someone reliable to smooth over the inevitable incidents.

Yeon Jipyeong had never once been on the host side. In fact, this was his first time ever attending. He couldn’t know such particulars.

“The host side has the right to expel matters—or people—that threaten the gathering. There are countless precedents. Nothing special about what I’m doing now.”

“Tch!”

“I believe that makes it clear enough. If you care for your own faces, the both of you should quietly leave.”

A look of dismay crossed Yeon Jipyeong’s face.

Just then—

Still watching Namgung Hyun in the distance, Yeon Hojeong spoke.

“Jipyeong.”

“...Yes, brother.”

“Don’t flare up. Sit and eat.”

Yeon Hojeong picked up a slab of braised pork belly and took a big bite.

“Chomp, chomp. Did you forget what Father said? Be clear whether the other is a person or a beast. Thickheaded as I am, even I can tell. You can’t afford not to.”

“...Gulp.”

“Hurry up. It’ll get cold.”