Black and White Martial Emperor

The heavy long spear spun out uncountable afterimages. A form so fantastic it looked like painting a vast flower.

But it was red. The petals were stained a deep, bloody red.

FWOOOOSH!

Blood sprayed from Chu Seong’s whole body and soaked the center of the training ground.

“Gasp!”

“S—stop!”

Yeon Hojeong did not stop.

If he said he would kill once, he killed. Death’s killing will glinted along the spearhead, dazzling under the sun.

“Khf!”

Chu Seong coughed blood and trembled.

His whole body was netted with spear wounds. But they were not merely cuts—a tide of Jade Wave True Qi poured from the spearhead into the wounds, worsening his internal injuries.

He had packed infiltrating force into the form itself and attacked. Regardless of how high the art, you don’t go this far unless you truly mean to kill.

“Death...?”

Bloodshot filled Chu Seong’s eyes.

“I’m going to die?”

Through his blurred vision, he saw Yeon Hojeong.

The devil who had wrecked a man with disorderly spearwork smiled coldly as he readied the finishing strike.

At last, fear crept over Chu Seong’s face.

That bastard—no, that fiend wearing a man’s skin—truly intended to kill him.

“G—ghk! S—spare...!”

Yeon Hojeong did not answer.

He gripped the middle of the shaft as if drawing a bow and, with all his strength, drove the spear out.

FWAAAANG!

Chu Seong squeezed his eyes shut.

And then—

KAAAAANG!!

The long spear stopped.

“—Hah!”

The spearhead halted a finger’s breadth before Chu Seong’s throat. A heartbeat later and it would have punched clean through.

His body, shuddering, went limp. He’d fainted.

Yeon Hojeong’s gaze sank.

What had stopped that thrust was an iron cudgel and a hand. He had meant to bat the shaft aside, but the force was too great; he’d had to seize it with his hand and twist.

Yeon Hojeong looked at the man who had blocked his spear.

“...Dragon Head Union Master?”

“As I said earlier.”

The voice shook—the pressure of the spear crushing the cudgel was that strong.

“My master’s life-thread is devilishly tough. I’m still just playing the heir for now.”

“...”

“Grr—! Anyway, your strength is monstrous. Hurts like hell.”

Drip.

Blood ran over Ga Deoksang’s palm where he gripped the spear.

This had not been a simple thrust. It wasn’t just a straight stab—the spear carried rotation, a winding torque, to maximize penetration.

Yeon Hojeong, who had been staring blankly at Ga Deoksang, released the power loaded into the spear.

“Whew!”

Ga Deoksang peeled his hand and cudgel away, face gone a little pale.

Yeon Hojeong’s expression hardened.

“What were you thinking? A hair more and your hand would have—”

“Flown off, yes. If I hadn’t dumped inner force into it in time, I’d be an even sorrier beggar than I am.”

He shook his hand like it was nothing—bluff and breezy.

“Still, if one hand can save two lives, that’s a bargain, isn’t it?”

Two lives.

One was obviously Chu Seong. Then the other?

“An idle worry.”

Ga Deoksang answered.

His voice dropped, low enough for only Yeon Hojeong.

“The Namgung Clan is strong. Until the Ming Clan of the Nine Provinces swelled its influence, most judged them the house closest to First Under Heaven. You know that.”

“There are too many ways to fell an elephant to bother counting them one by one.”

“Are you planning to topple the Namgung Clan?”

Yeon Hojeong’s eyes deepened.

“If necessary.”

Ga Deoksang forced a smile.

He smiled, but a chill ran his spine. Whether it was truly possible or not, this youth was sincere.

“Dangerous.”

Ability was secondary.

In Yeon Hojeong’s eyes and voice, Ga Deoksang felt a nature hard as steel.

He did not weigh right and wrong. Once this youth decided to do a thing, he bore a ferocity to stake his life and see it done.

“Ferocity” felt too cheap a word for a will that strong.

If that will strayed into the Demonic Path, it would become madness; if it walked the Orthodox Way, it would become conviction.

“In any case, too many eyes are watching. Let’s end this fight here.”

Yeon Hojeong, who had been looking at Ga Deoksang with colorless, transparent eyes, turned and surveyed the surroundings.

Crowds watched him. Most of them were martial men.

The surprise was their eyes.

Normally, after a fight this murderous, trembling in fear would be the ordinary response—in the world of common folk.

But these, too, were people of the martial world.

In the younger generation’s eyes, beyond simple astonishment, a thick excitement burned.

Not at the sight of blood. It was a martial excitement.

Spearwork that pressed like a storm—exhilarating and merciless. Though the swordsman had been driven to the wall by that spearman, his refusal to let go until the end was the loss of a sword master.

Excessive, perhaps, at the finish—but the thunder of spear and sword colliding and the fluid, unbroken exchanges had something that made palms sweat.

For heirs raised on cooperative forms within their clans, a match like real combat—without consented tempo—stirred the depths. It did so regardless of sex.

Even Namgung Hyun’s eyes ran hot. Though there was no way he could rejoice at this situation, the unexpected ferocity of the contest made his heart pound.

“Those youngsters are all fired up, eh? Might be easier than I thought.”

Yeon Hojeong glanced at Ga Deoksang.

Ga Deoksang gave a ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ theatrical shrug.

“Wrap it up in style.”

Yeon Hojeong couldn’t help a brief, crooked smile.

“It was a life-and-death bout between martial men. You’ll answer for the crime of disrupting the match.”

“What a peculiar man. Can’t even get a thank you. Ah, forget it. Go on, tidy up.”

Yeon Hojeong tapped the ground with his spear.

THOOM.

Every gaze swung to him.

He spoke evenly.

“Apologies for the fright. But if not for the Rear Beggar’s intervention, I would truly have killed this swordsman.”

A shiver ran the length of the outer compound.

They were excited as martial men—but they were the descendants of the Orthodox, taught the great code. It wasn’t easy to look kindly on Yeon Hojeong for saying, without a blink, that he would kill his opponent.

“Is there a reason?”

A broad-shouldered youth asked. His face was set far more seriously than yesterday—Peng Daeho.

“Brother Yeon’s skill in defeating Squad Leader Chu was truly tremendous. But at a fine gathering like this—wasn’t that too much?”

He did not help Yeon Hojeong as he had yesterday.

That was Peng Daeho’s line. Young as he was, he saw yesterday’s incident and today’s match as separate. His yardstick was that clear.

Even so, the unconscious “Brother Yeon” showed his goodwill toward Yeon Hojeong.

“No reason to hide it. This morning...”

Yeon Hojeong gave a short, concise account of events.

His words were not long, but they did not miss the core, and he made clear the chain of cause and effect that led to this moment.

Perhaps that was why: though he spoke briefly, the listeners felt as if they had heard a long account. That much, the speaker, Yeon Hojeong, spoke with structure.

Ga Deoksang marveled inwardly.

“Truly not ordinary.”

The martial art that hounded Chu Seong was less striking than this—this presence now. He spoke with a calm face and tight logic; there was nothing to skip over.

His murmuring, natural flow still carried force, and his choice of words and constructions left no room to wedge in. It bordered on a speech.

This was not innate—it was the comfort of experience. You don’t get that modulation unless you’ve led a room from a high seat.

As Ga Deoksang watched, admiration slowly shaded into suspicion.

“What are you, really?”

A savage skill that felled Chu Seong before twenty.

A conviction polished so thoroughly it overwhelmed on its own.

And not merely unbothered by the room’s eyes—he drew them skillfully into his own weather. A strange charm.

“This goes beyond ‘genius.’ If I hadn’t seen him myself, I’d mistake him for the head of a great sect, not a youth.”

Ga Deoksang’s eyes deepened.

“Who are you?”

Silence settled over the outer compound.

As Yeon Hojeong finished, all eyes slid to Namgung Hyun.

Namgung Hyun’s face had flushed red. He managed his expression, but anyone could see he was rattled.

“Tch.”

Ming Holim sighed with his hands at his back.

“Namgung, my friend, you blundered.”

Namgung Hyun’s eyes flickered. He had not expected Ming Holim to come out like this.

“No matter that he’s the Thunder Hero, he only recently entered the Namgung fold. From Squad Leader Chu’s position, he would want to show your clan something. Calming a subordinate’s zeal is also a virtue in a superior.”

Light stirred in Namgung Hyun’s eyes.

Ming Holim went on, even and calm.

“I don’t fault a host clan for the fatigue of holding a gathering. Your edge can be up. But failing to soothe your subordinate is your mistake. With all watching, you ought to apologize.”

It was artful.

One could have said: wasn’t it too much, bleeding and all, at a fine gathering—wasn’t talk of “insult” itself over the top?

There was plenty of room to attack Yeon Hojeong.

But Ming Holim fixed responsibility on Namgung Hyun as the representative of the host.

Ga Deoksang’s eyes glinted.

“So you’ll bury it completely? Crafty.”

If Namgung Hyun took responsibility and apologized, the incident ended. To dredge up a closed matter would be petty—just as Chu Seong had done.

At the same time, Namgung Hyun’s intent would be buried. The clear wrong would vanish, and only the “mistake” of failing to manage a subordinate would remain.

Ming Holim scolded while trying to seal the case—and showed the polish of an adult.

Ming Holim and Namgung Hyun’s eyes met and struck.

“You owe me one.”

“I won’t forget.”

“Finish it.”

As Namgung Hyun drew breath to speak—

“Fine sight.”

Every eye turned to Yeon Hojeong.

Smiling, he looked at Namgung Hyun.

“He’s not the sort—but if my own ‘younger brother’ had blundered like this, I’d have tossed my face aside and stepped out.”

Ming Holim knit his brows.

“What ‘face’ is there? Simply that Namgung here is plainly at fault, so—”

“I offer my apology.”

Startled, Ming Holim looked at Namgung Hyun.

Namgung Hyun had come to the fore of the training ground at some point and had cupped his fists in salute.

“I was the one who gave orders to Squad Leader Chu. It was not my subordinate’s mistake—I intended it.”

“W—what?!”

“I wished to close this gathering in the grandest fashion. But I was rattled by yesterday, and my anger had not cooled. So—even knowing it was not Young Lord Yeon’s fault, I took out my remaining anger on him.”

Mouths fell open across the crowd.

Namgung Hyun was apologizing to Yeon Hojeong—and even admitting that Chu Seong’s actions had been on his orders.

“As representative of the host clan, who must be more transparent and upright than anyone, there is nothing I can say in my defense. Here and now, I offer Young Lord Yeon my sincere apology.”

He could have stayed quiet and let the matter tidy itself—and yet, out of nowhere, he confessed the truth.

Everyone stared, dumbstruck, at Namgung Hyun.

Namgung Hyun looked up at Yeon Hojeong with trembling eyes.

Yeon Hojeong looked down at him with a cool smile.

“So I beg that you forgive....”

What his younger brother had done—

“—forgive me.”

Shut your mouth.

Watching Namgung Hyun pay every courtesy as he apologized, Yeon Hojeong opened his own.

“No.”