Black and White Martial Emperor

Ga Deoksang stopped where he stood.

With a sickened look, he stared at Yeon Hojeong’s back.

“Hff... hff.”

His breathing was ragged. His upper body rose and fell over and over.

But only for a moment.

“Hooo.”

His breath settled with astonishing speed.

His bared neck and forearms were flushed crimson—he’d pushed a heavy weapon to the limit and overheated every muscle fiber in his body.

Vmmm.

A faint, pale-blue aura flowed around Yeon Hojeong’s body. It was Jade Wave True Qi.

Ga Deoksang asked, face set hard:

“Did you kill her?”

Rip.

Yeon Hojeong drew the axe free and hooked it over his shoulder.

“Of course not.”

At some point he had put his killing will away; his face was expressionless.

Ga Deoksang hurried over to Ming Onji.

“Hahk... hahk...”

Her state was nothing short of atrocious.

Her entire upper body was covered in axe wounds. Judging by the depth, a good half-dozen ribs had to be broken.

Her right arm was gone from the elbow down, and the gale from the axe had left cuts all over her face.

And that face—her wits were gone, obliterated by terror.

‘Vicious.’

Better to kill a person than leave them like this. Even if her body recovered, Ming Onji’s mind likely wouldn’t.

The one small mercy was the bleeding wasn’t heavy. She must have trained a special art.

“You’ve turned her into a rag.”

Yeon Hojeong asked, indifferent:

“The others?”

“Caught them all.”

“Good.”

“‘Good,’ he says—for now.”

Ga Deoksang, who’d been glaring at him, let out a long breath.

“I get that you’re angry, but you need to cool down. You just about killed her.”

“I didn’t kill her.”

Isn’t that enough.

Ga Deoksang came up empty.

‘...Obvious, in a way.’

Mo Yong Clan and Ming Clan alike—they were trying to blow his house to pieces. From Yeon Hojeong’s side, they were unambiguous enemies.

Honestly, knowing his temperament, the fact he hadn’t killed her was impressive in itself.

“One of them—I had no choice.”

“Huh? What do you mean?”

“One of them is dead.”

“...!”

So he did cause a mess.

Ga Deoksang shelved the scolding. It was already done. The priority now was to process the rest as quickly as possible.

“Let’s move first. Damn it—called a physician just in case, and now my purse is going to bleed dry.”

Ga Deoksang had secured a small estate for the moment. They hauled every captured Shadow-Death operative there and bound them up.

Watching them move Ming Onji, Yeon Hojeong wandered to the forest edge near the estate and dropped down any which way.

Thump-thump.

The heart he’d driven into a frenzy wouldn’t calm. Neither would the rage that surged after seeing Ming Onji’s martial art.

But beyond the anger, his head turned cold.

‘Now it starts in earnest.’

Ming Onji was the head of the Ming Clan’s intelligence division.

But however high you stand in an intel unit, intelligence is still intelligence. She was a Ming by name, a child of the clan, but they wouldn’t have put a direct scion in charge of intelligence.

In other words, Ming Onji was not the Clan Lord’s daughter. Even so, she had learned “that martial art.”

What did that mean?

‘They said they’re raising Death Swords. Whether those or that woman, in the end they’re just pawns to be used and tossed. So they must have made her learn it as a trial run.’

It was a precise judgment.

Not because he knew the ecology of the orthodox martial world, but because he knew the ecology of greedy power-holders. The appetites of the powerful draw no line between black and white.

Which is to say—

‘They’re preparing.’

The Ming Clan will attack the Yeon Clan. That was certain.

But unlike the past life, in this one he had rooted out all of Mo Yong Clan’s spies. Which meant Mo Yong’s side would try to bury the Yeon Clan before the world found out.

In that context, Jiangsu’s information flow had been locked down, and he had surfaced in Henan.

And he had taken an entire Ming intelligence unit captive.

“I need to gather more.”

Yeon Hojeong lifted his head.

Ga Deoksang was strolling over at an easy pace. After pulling off a big job, he seemed to have bought himself a little slack.

“We’ve worked hard, but we can’t stop here. The opponent’s too strong to check with a single rumor.”

“What’s your view, Rear Beggar?”

Ga Deoksang’s expression turned grave.

“Let’s see. At latest, they’ll notice within five days. Considering this is their own front yard, we have, what, about three days.”

“Sounds right.”

“I got word as well—the Clan Lord Yeon asked the Beggars’ Union to investigate. Whether there are Ming-affiliated outfits in Jiangsu and Zhejiang.”

A sound decision.

They wouldn’t try to topple the Yeon Clan with no base in that region. Toppling isn’t all; planting themselves afterward matters as well.

There had to be forces in Jiangsu that answered to the Ming Clan.

“But that’s slow.”

“It is. Just the investigation will take a month—minimum.”

After a moment’s thought, Ga Deoksang asked:

“How about this instead?”

“What?”

“My master knows about this as well. In that case, I think it’s worth asking him.”

Yeon Hojeong’s eyes flashed.

If it was Ga Deoksang’s master, that meant the current Dragon Head Union Master.

“We weren’t going to blow this open right away anyway, were we? Ming won’t be able to provoke us carelessly, so we spread the word quietly, dig up their evils, and then detonate—so we said beforehand.”

“We did.”

“Honestly, we shook down every Ming-related business and intel outfit since the day we reached Shangqiu, but nothing usable yet.”

“How long do you think it’ll take?”

“I don’t know. Whatever happened lately, it’s different from the last time we looked. They’re clamping information shut like iron.”

Ga Deoksang clicked his tongue.

“So I’d like to ask my master to step in. He’s half out of the rivers and lakes and preparing to pass the mantle, but if I ask him to take this on, he won’t refuse.”

He wouldn’t. The Beggars’ Union’s spirit of cooperation is as famous as Shaolin’s mercy.

‘But is that really best?’

Yeon Hojeong had no particulars on Ga Deoksang’s master. Only a memory that he’d been praised as an excellent union head.

‘That’s the rub.’

The modifier “excellent” snagged at him. Praise in the orthodox world, in other words, often overlaps with “not extreme.”

This couldn’t be handled that way.

It had to be aggressive—thorough and final, so the enemy could never raise their head again.

Lost in thought, Yeon Hojeong asked, out of the blue:

“In your view?”

“Eh? What?”

“Nine Provinces Ming Clan and Mo Yong Clan. Which of the two do you think is harder to break?”

Ga Deoksang frowned.

“What’s with that question, all of a sudden?”

“Answer me.”

“Hm. Asking whether a tiger or a lion is harder to face is...”

“In that case, think about which of the two lives in a more precarious environment.”

“Good grief.”

Grumbling, Ga Deoksang still sank into thought. The Yeon Hojeong he’d seen wasn’t a man who asked such questions for nothing.

‘Which of the two is harder to break?’

He turned it over and over.

Soon enough, he gave his answer.

“If you ask me...”

“In Rear Beggar’s view?”

“Mm. I’d say Mo Yong Clan.”

Unexpected. Even though the Nine Provinces Ming Clan outstripped Mo Yong in raw power, he was saying Mo Yong Clan was harder to topple.

“Reason?”

“History—and public opinion.”

“I’m of the same mind.”

Three hundred years ago, during the Blood Sect Uprising, the Nine Provinces Ming Clan rendered great service.

But rendering service doesn’t by itself grow a clan. Through grinding effort they built their influence, and the level of their cultivation skyrocketed.

That took two hundred years. After that, the Nine Provinces Ming Clan made its name as a banner of the Central Plains.

That history—one hundred years.

“Compared to the other Seven Great Clans, the Yeon Clan and Ming Clan have shorter histories. History is foundation. However great your current influence, a short history leaves you relatively vulnerable to shocks.”

“Exactly.”

“In that light, the Nine Provinces Ming Clan is the easier opponent. And the rumors about them aren’t so good.”

The Ming Clan had sought constant expansion.

It’s natural for a martial faction to grow, but they had gone too far. And they were orthodox, not demonic.

To orthodox eyes, the Ming Clan’s expansion looked crassly worldly.

Even with strength that nearly rivaled Shaolin’s, the Ming Clan had the worst reputation among the Seven Great Clans.

A gleam cut through Yeon Hojeong’s eyes.

‘Toppling Ming and Mo Yong together right now is impossible.’

Obviously. Even if he reclaimed the martial might of his Dark Emperor days, it would be hard. Without the base of the Black Emperor’s Citadel, forget it.

‘Besides...’

Even if there were a way, burying both at once would be a bad move for the future.

‘The Three Teachings!’

Yes.

The Fanatical Three Teachings will invade the Central Plains one day. And to stop them, a towering ruler named Mo Yongwu is necessary.

Of course, even after joining hands with Mo Yongwu, he had no intention of sparing Mo Yong Clan.

But now, before he had even met Mo Yongwu, even if he had a way, wiping Mo Yong Clan would be a blunder.

‘The Sect of Perversity alone turned half the Central Plains into a sea of blood. To block the remaining two, the existence called Mo Yongwu is desperately needed.’

Immediate vengeance matters—but so does the calamity waiting down the line.

‘In that case...’

Murder colored Yeon Hojeong’s face.

‘I’ll have to smash the Ming Clan first.’

All the better.

Mo Yong Clan had sent the spies into the Yeon Clan, but the one that actually ruined his house was the Ming Clan. Even if both deserved death, the one he’d watched butcher his family with his own eyes—the Ming Clan—was the first-priority enemy.

Personal fury, and the future both said the same.

In that case—

“They say the enemy of my enemy is my friend.”

“Eh? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Yeon Hojeong looked at Ga Deoksang with a chill gaze.

Ga Deoksang flinched without meaning to.

‘Those eyes...’

Far scarier «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» than laying his killing will bare—like he was stripping a soul clean.

“I’m going to break the Ming Clan.”

“I know. Whether that’s possible is another matter.”

“If you help me, it is.”

“W-What?”

“It won’t harm you either. The justification is solid, and it’ll raise the Beggars’ Union’s renown.”

Color flared in Ga Deoksang’s face—anger, welling up.

“You take me for that kind of man? The sort who chases renown?”

“What’s wrong with caring about renown?”

“...?”

“Everyone lives with desire. You’re no mountain ascetic—since when is wanting reputation a sin?”

“Uh... that’s not it, but... anyway I’m not that sort.”

“I know.”

“You know, and you still say that!”

“I know—but for what’s ahead, renown will be necessary. To catch worse animals.”

“...!”

Seriousness settled over Ga Deoksang’s face.

“What are you thinking?”

“First, let’s send a letter.”

“A letter? To whom?”

“Mo Yonggun.”

“...!!”

“Send it right now.”

I’ll use anything that can be used.