Black and White Martial Emperor

That day, Namgung Hyun threw a large banquet. The bouts were over; his intent was for everyone to gather and loosen their fatigue over drinks. But the principal party did not attend.

There was one more who didn’t attend.

Yeon Hojeong.

The younger generation felt it was a shame. Whatever the reasons, Yeon Hojeong had been the talk of this gathering. There were many who wanted a word with him.

But they also understood.

After his match with Chu Seong, Yeon Hojeong exchanged hands with the younger generation, then fought Ming Holim last.

He couldn’t possibly not be exhausted. He had to need rest.

And so the final night of the younger-generation gathering deepened.

****

The night carried a fair chill.

Out in the rear garden of his quarters, Yeon Hojeong sat cross-legged. His circulation was at its final stretch.

“Hoo.”

With the breath he let out, the turbid air bled away.

At Choseong Pavilion he had killed Ma Bang, he had overwhelmed Tang Yangseon, he had hunted Chu Seong down, and he had contended with Ming Holim.

Strictly speaking, at his present stage, these were things he shouldn’t have been able to do.

True, his parsing of the Jade Wave True Formula was nearly at consummation. Thanks to the Dark Emperor’s eye and knowledge, his comprehension and refinement ran at a rate beyond imagination.

Even so, there were limits. At least for now, he was not at a stage the martial world would recognize.

And yet there was a single reason he could seize the initiative in every contest.

Experience.

Because the insight steeped into that experience was that lofty.

Because his attained realm was high enough to stand in for inner force and a body not yet fully tempered.

But experience and insight do not replace everything.

Brrrr.

Yeon Hojeong’s shoulders quivered mid-circulation.

His neuromuscular system had been overtaxed. His head and instincts allowed the fight; his flesh couldn’t keep up. Forcing it to answer wrecked the body.

It was also why his basic circulation had dragged on for more than half a day without finishing.

“...Mm.”

Color slowly returned to Yeon Hojeong’s once-pale face.

‘That should do.’

Repairs were finally complete. He wasn’t fully healed, but there’d be no problem moving.

“Hah!”

He eased out of his posture and lay straight back on the spot.

‘Stiff.’

His whole body ached. Even his joints felt like they were creaking beyond the muscles.

‘I have to train more thoroughly. What I’ve done so far isn’t enough.’

He ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) clenched a fist.

The strength wouldn’t run all the way through. He’d likely need a full day of rest to be right.

A low thrumming rose.

As his body’s strength ebbed, Black Tortoise Qi rose of its own accord.

Kidney function began to activate. As that activation took, the other organs, little by little, followed suit.

‘This is enough.’

He’d done everything he could. With Black Tortoise Qi activated, recovery would hasten.

Yeon Hojeong looked up at the sky.

The night was crystal clear. Not a full moon, but the moonlight was rich, and the starlight felt uncanny.

A view that would make anyone stare blankly.

But the eyes with which he watched the sky grew steadily colder.

“Right. It was the Ming Clan.”

More precisely, the Ming Clan’s martial art.

There was one reason for certainty. Inner methods and the lines of forms can look similar, but the way one handles True Qi being alike is next to impossible.

The reason inner-method manuals have separate verses and formulae is the strictness of transmission. And in that process, True Qi handling accounts for well over nine-tenths.

In short: each school’s inner method bears a distinctly its-own way of handling True Qi. Unless you share a lineage, you cannot make it alike even if you try.

And that saber method Ming Holim displayed—

That simple method that prized power and speed—

‘It was originally a saber method. Not a palm method.’

He remembered with perfect clarity the raider’s powerful palm method that, twenty-six years ago, snapped his younger brother’s spine.

The reason he didn’t think of the raider’s martial art the instant he saw Ming Holim’s saber was precisely that: that palm method had originally been the saber method Ming Holim used.

“......”

The fist that wouldn’t take strength trembled. Call up that moment, and the strength he lacked comes on its own.

‘Pyeong.’

Something welled up in his chest for no clear reason.

Even on the verge of death, his younger brother did not look at him. He knew that turning his eyes would expose his elder brother’s position.

But Yeon Hojeong heard Yeon Jipyeong’s cry with his heart.

‘Run, brother!’

He used to think “bloody tears” was an exaggerated phrase. He’d scoffed that anyone who shed them had a disease or an eye injury.

But when a person is truly heartsick, he sheds blood from his eyes.

Yeon Hojeong did.

He shed so much that even after three days and nights the red tracks would not fade. His grievance was that deep.

‘Never again.’

Sss—

The grass beneath him slowly withered. The killing will he bled into the air was killing the weeds.

‘I will never leave regret again.’

Just then—

“Vicious, aren’t you.”

Cold light flashed in Yeon Hojeong’s eyes.

He sprang up, and there stood a man.

“Ah, vicious. Vicious. I can’t even get close, it’s that frightening. Ow—my hand.”

“Dragon...”

“—Head Union Master? No. Rear Beggar.”

“Ah.”

“In any case, how about you rein that killing will in first? I came with the Je Gal siblings, and the two of them got spooked and ran back to their lodgings.”

Yeon Hojeong started. He hadn’t even realized he was letting his killing will leak.

Shh—

The chilling air settled, calm.

Ga Deoksang gave honest praise.

“The more I look, the more impressive you are. Killing will is a branch of will, after all—stronger the mind, stronger the killing will.”

“......”

“I don’t know why you live with that much in your chest, but you’re remarkable.”

Yeon Hojeong rose to his feet.

His body was still stiff, but this wasn’t a man you received while sitting.

“What brings you here?”

“This.”

Ga Deoksang hefted two bulky bundles.

“You invited me to lunch, remember? Then you up and skipped out.”

“Ah...”

“Ah? Ha-ha! You can make a sound like that? The more I see you, the more charm you’ve got, eh?”

Yeon Hojeong pointed to a small outdoor table.

“Let’s eat there.”

“Good. I brought drink, too.”

He’d already had a fair amount. In the moonlight, Ga Deoksang’s face was warmly flushed.

The two sat.

“How’s Jipyeong?”

“He’s having himself a time. You’re his elder brother—you know. The Second Young Master’s temperament is a treat. Everyone’s scrambling to keep him at their side.”

“I see.”

“Here—have a cup.”

Yeon Hojeong accepted with formal courtesy.

Ga Deoksang smirked.

“No need. Take it easy. No need to put on manners for a beggar.”

“Pour.”

“Ho! Haven’t you been told you’re stubborn?”

Having taken his cup, Yeon Hojeong filled Ga Deoksang’s this time.

Ga Deoksang observed no ceremony. Somehow, it looked right. You could feel the freedom of a beggar-king who wanders the world.

“A drink.”

“Let’s.”

They downed their cups clean.

“Khh—looks like the Seven Great Clans really are loaded. This is that famous Shaoxing wine, isn’t it?”

“So it seems.”

“First time I’ve had it. I’m always gulping cheap white liquor—have a named wine and my eyes spin.”

He scratched his throat to hawk up phlegm and spat.

One leg tossed over the other, drumming his belly—freedom at its peak. And yet, none of it was off-putting.

“How’s the body?”

“Fine.”

“Looks it. You thrashed your muscles and already settled them down. Impressive.”

Light flickered in Yeon Hojeong’s eyes.

He’d spotted the muscular overuse at a glance. Indeed, his eye had never been ordinary, even young.

“So Rear Beggar isn’t a title just anyone gets.”

“Of course not. Only the most beggar-like bastard can be Rear Beggar.”

It sounded... odd.

Yeon Hojeong let a smile slip.

Ga Deoksang smiled back.

“You’ve got a good smile. Don’t keep your face clenched—smile like that.”

“I’ll smile often when I have cause.”

“Ha-ha! That’s true enough. So then, it seems Young Master Yeon hasn’t had much cause, lately?”

There was a blade inside the laughter, a stiletto in the banter.

Yeon Hojeong didn’t bother to hide.

“Would a man with a lot to smile about be raising this much hell?”

“Fair point. I hear you wrecked the Tang Clan’s eldest son yesterday?”

“You heard that too?”

“I stopped counting at seventy-six. Folks were flapping their lips fit to split.”

“Looked like a brat poorly taught.”

“Seemed that way to me. Still felt you went a bit far. The Tang Clan won’t leave it alone.”

Yeon Hojeong shook his head.

“It doesn’t matter.”

It didn’t matter.

A line that could carry many meanings. But it didn’t sound like a man who had given up on life.

Ga Deoksang looked ready to probe deeper, then grinned wide and raised his cup.

“Come! One more!”

“Let’s.”

They drank in succession.

It was an odd sitting. Ga Deoksang had met Yeon Hojeong for the first time today.

And yet the air between them ran deep and easy like old friends. Even without trying, it formed on its own.

About an hour passed that way.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

“Choseong Pavilion.”

“......”

“The Pavilion Master said so. Said he lived thanks to the Yeon Clan. Asked me to pass his thanks along if I ever met you.”

Yeon Hojeong let out a thin smile.

“He didn’t find it filthy even to bring up?”

“Oh? How’d you know?”

“It just seemed likely.”

“It’s not ‘just.’ Even if a man’s evil, he burned people alive. Who wouldn’t be afraid to revisit that?”

Yeon Hojeong didn’t answer.

Watching him, Ga Deoksang was sure.

‘He isn’t without feeling.’

He clearly recognizes what he did, and how it looks.

But this young man won’t change his creed, his yardstick. Because to him, it is right.

Ga Deoksang, gazing at him, stretched with theatrical exaggeration.

“Ugh—haven’t put it away like this in a while. I’m beat. We’ve just about finished—let’s tidy up.”

“Before that, I have a favor to ask.”

Ga Deoksang’s eyes went wide.

A favor? The Yeon Hojeong he’d seen wasn’t the sort to ask anyone for favors.

His interest piqued.

“What kind of favor?”

“No—‘favor’ isn’t quite it. Let me commission you.”

“A commission... Well, sure, we make our living turning information into real money. But we’re both on the Orthodox Way—do you need the formalities? If it’s within bounds, I’ll just tell you. Say what it is.”

Yeon Hojeong spoke a few items.

Ga Deoksang’s face hardened.

“Are you serious?”

“Yes.”

“...I can grant the first. The second is even easier. But do you understand how hard the third is?”

“I understand. That’s why I meant to commission it.”

“......”

“If it’s too hard, you can drop it.”

“Eh? Who says it’s hard? It’s not hard. Not hard! I can do it.”

“As expected of the Beggars’ Union.”

“I’m just curious, is all. I won’t take a commission fee—tell me why.”

Blue light passed through Yeon Hojeong’s eyes.

Moon-colored, that gaze was ghastly, like a ghost’s eyes.

“If Rear Beggar digs properly... you’ll know without me saying it.”

You’ll learn it naturally in the course of the inquiry?

Ga Deoksang grinned, baring teeth.

“Now that stirs my fighting spirit. The more I see you, the more you toy with people beyond your years.”

“I’ll take it as praise.”

“It’s more than praise. What are you, really?”

“The First Young Master of the Yeon Clan of Green Mountain, Yeon Hojeong.”

Ga Deoksang was certain that wasn’t the whole of it.

He stood.

“Well, whatever the case, I’ll go first. I’ll bring you what you asked for shortly.”

“Confidentiality?”

“Are you teasing me? Of course.”

“Understood.”

Ga Deoksang turned with a smile.

“Be careful tomorrow. Cubs with hurt pride may try to take a bite.”

Leaving that loaded line behind, Ga Deoksang was gone.

Yeon Hojeong looked up at the sky.

The moon was still there.

An in-between moon that had never quite made full—just like the chill in his eyes.

“...Time to start running.”

Sss—

The weeds beneath his foot withered in an instant.