Black and White Martial Emperor

Tch-tch-tch-tch!

Seated cross-legged, a firelike surge blossomed off Ming Cheon’s body.

Hmm.

A thrill colored Ming Cheon’s face.

The red force that burst from his dantian swept through his whole body in an instant. The qi coursing the Eight Extraordinary Meridians could rightly be called extreme yang.

The extremity of yang is the very symbol of the emperor. The force that had been churning through fine channels and small points now gathered toward the heart, and he could feel himself more replete than ever.

The heart is the very wellspring of life. When the heart is strong, life force is strong.

As expected!

At last Ming Cheon was certain. The forefathers’ martial art was the very solution to the curse that had been devouring the clan.

A martial art only the Clan Lord of the Ming could train—the Phoenix Divine Art—was itself a peerless divine art under heaven.

Yet it had never escaped the problem of lifespan. Of all past Clan Lords, the longest-lived barely reached a single sixty-year cycle. The average hovered near the knowing-of-heaven’s-mandate years.

Ming Cheon had already passed fifty. For how many years had he lived each day with his heart scraped raw, wondering when death would come?

With this, the curse shrouding the main line ends!

Flash!

When he opened his eyes, his eye-light blazed like the sun.

Heat flooded his frame. He felt his vitality swell more than at any other time. Strength brimmed—he felt like swinging a blade this instant.

He raised his right hand.

Vmm! Whoosh!

Red force limned it—and before he knew it, real flame spouted.

Amazingly, though fire covered his whole hand, the hand remained unscathed. The replete force perfectly protected his flesh.

“Phoenix Flame... indeed. With this hand-born flame alone I could contend for first under heaven.”

Ming Cheon burst out laughing.

“Kehahahaha! At last—now I can set the Central Plains beneath my feet as the true number one under heaven.”

The Phoenix Divine Art was the strongest and most outstanding among the Four Great Divine Arts. Rank one among the four—and of course it boasted a monstrous might.

He would first master the Phoenix Divine Art to raise his vitality, then proceed to the others step by step. The three remaining arts—Spirit Turtle Divine Art, Responding Dragon Divine Art, and Qilin Divine Art—might be a tier beneath the Phoenix, but each could dominate an era.

Ming Cheon meant to master all Four Great Divine Arts. Master them all and remain in the annals of the martial world as its mightiest warrior.

It was while he, full of dreams, laughed long and let his imagination run.

“Clan Lord.”

Ming Cheon spoke evenly.

“Enter.”

Creak.

The door opened and Ming Usan stepped in.

“What is it? I told you not to disturb me in training unless the matter is grave.”

“My apologies. It is somewhat urgent; I had no choice.”

“An urgent matter?”

Ming Cheon’s eyes flashed.

“Surely it’s not about that whelp Yeon Hojeong?”

“Ah, no.”

“Then?”

Ming Usan took a neatly folded missive from his breast. Its envelope was dressed richly in gold.

Ming Cheon’s eyes gleamed.

“Is that not a secret dispatch of the Alliance of the Martial World?”

“It is.”

“The buildings of the Alliance stand, but an Alliance Lord has not been chosen. With no acting lord either—who sent this?”

“The Mo Yong Clan Lord.”

Ming Cheon knit his brow.

“The Mo Yong Clan Lord? Why?”

“Please read.”

Ming Cheon opened the missive—and surprise rose in his eyes.

“He’s invoking the Right of Grand Assembly?!”

“Yes.”

The Right of Grand Assembly was the convocation right the heads of the Nine Sects and One Union and the Seven Great Clans used to table particular agendas.

You didn’t open a meeting under that right lightly. Misstep and you might have to cough up a sum on the level of the heavens.

Why in the world?

Tilting his head, Ming Cheon noticed there were two sheets. The letter to him had a second sheet layered beneath.

It was the method he always used when exchanging letters with the Mo Yong Clan Lord.

Ming Cheon carefully lifted the back layer and read—then burst into loud laughter.

“Kehahahaha!”

Ming Usan tilted his head.

“What could it say that—”

“Hah-hah! As expected of the Mo Yong Clan Lord. He may not have stood with us before, but once he joins hands, he pushes in earnest, is that it?”

“Pardon?”

Ming Cheon spoke with a smile.

“It’s because of the Yeon Clan.”

“The Yeon Clan?”

“Starting with that impudent cur Yeon Hojeong, he proposes we blow the Yeon Clan away. Since I framed the whelp as a vicious enemy, he’ll make it public and himself see to burning the Yeon Clan down.”

Ming Usan’s face brightened.

“An unexpected aid.”

“Indeed. To render such help at such an unlooked-for time.”

True delight would not leave Ming Cheon’s face.

“If a man shows this much friendship, he’s fit to be taken as in-law, is he not?”

“More than fit.”

“I have long kept an eye on the Mo Yong Clan Lord’s daughter, Yeonhwa. A remarkable girl. As a match for my elder son, not bad at all.”

“Mo Yong Yeonhwa’s stratagems take after her father; they call her the best of her generation. If you take her as daughter-in-law, it will be good for the First Young Master as well.”

“Quite so.”

Ming Cheon put the letter down.

“When this is finished, I’ll send a matchmaker. My son would be satisfied with Mo Yong Yeonhwa.”

“My early congratulations.”

“Heh-heh-heh!”

The two kept bursting into laughter as they looked at each other.

“Ah—then what will you do?”

“With what?”

“Since the Mo Yong Clan Lord invoked the Right of Grand Assembly, the leaders of orthodox white-path factions must all gather. Of course, those truly pressed may not attend.”

Ming Cheon grinned.

“I’ve just turned all my force to the Phoenix Divine Art. After I raise my attainment, I’ll try my hand at the other Great Divine Arts.”

Ming Usan smiled.

“I’ll send word that due to piled-up affairs, you unavoidably cannot attend.”

“Do so. In any event, the one who led this meeting is the Mo Yong Clan Lord; he’ll quite understand.”

“He will.”

“Ah, by the way.”

Ming Cheon cocked his head.

“What of Yeon Hojeong? I heard you threw Blue Hall as bait.”

“Half a shichen ago I sent the three brothers—Hak, Hwi, and Heon—with the White «N.o.v.e.l.i.g.h.t» Dragon Army. At the latest, by dawn tomorrow we should be able to escort Yeon Hojeong back under guard.”

“Kehahahaha!”

Whatever pleased him so, Ming Cheon’s laughter would not stop.

Smiling along as he watched Ming Cheon laugh heartily, Ming Usan, for a moment, tilted his head.

Huh? What’s this?

He noticed that among Ming Cheon’s loosened front folds, the vein at the upper-heart position showed unusually prominent.

A blood vessel?

He was about to speak—

“Well then, in good spirits as I am, go and see to your tasks. I must train further.”

“Sir? Ah—yes! I’ll do so.”

In the end, Ming Usan left the training hall without voicing a single doubt.

On the way to his quarters—

Seized by a needless unease, he glanced down at his own chest.

Hm.

He too was training one of the Four Great Divine Arts—the Qilin Divine Art. Thankfully, he was fine.

Ming Usan cleared his throat.

Perhaps I’ve been overanxious of late.

If he was fine, then the Clan Lord would be fine. He believed it so.

Swinging his arms, he strode into the chief steward’s office.

Since taking up the Qilin Divine Art he coughed a little more than before, but he thought little of it.

****

Impossible!

Puh-puh-puhm!

With a speed brutal enough to stir a typhoon, the sweeping axe was shaving away the sword force of the Phoenix Soaring Sword.

An unbelievable might. He was clearly internally injured, and yet the gale blasted from the great weapon only grew stronger with time.

And not only that—

Jjeo-jeo-jeong!

Ming Hwi’s face twisted.

The flaming blade that soared to the heavens—a sword art that could sweep away any foe—collapsed in a single exchange. Even with Phoenix True Qi pushed to the extreme, he was overborne.

It wasn’t just a few steps. His body lifted clean and flew three zhang.

Rrrrip.

The tiger’s mouth gripping his sword hilt tore. In the five years since he had honed this sword art, it had never once torn.

“Hraaap!”

Flaaare!

As Ming Hwi recoiled, Ming Heon charged.

He too had forged the Phoenix Divine Art and trained the hand art—Phoenix Flame Hand.

His advancing footwork was flamboyant like flame and swift like a bolt of light. With a movement art called Phoenix Flight, his body method boasted outstanding speed.

Following Phoenix Flight, a strange palm art burst out.

Whooom!

Yeon Hojeong’s eyes flashed.

The northern black axe swung heavy, inscribing a great circle.

Jjeo-jeo-je-jeong!

“Kh—!”

Ming Heon fared the same.

No matter how strong Phoenix Flame Hand was, it could not pierce the Northern Heaven Twelve Walls deployed through Black Tortoise Qi.

Water qi is the counter of fire qi. To pierce the Water Deity’s art with a yang-hard art requires overwhelming firepower; at their realm, they could not break Black Tortoise.

Boom!

Defense is followed by offense.

In an instant, Unmoving Pillar footwork shifted into White Tiger Lord’s Step, drawing up the iron advance.

The mountain king’s claws break even steel. The savage force of the Tiger King’s Nine Thunderclap Stances poured down on Ming Heon.

Jjeo-jeo-je-jeong! Thud!

“Gyaaaah!”

Ming Heon screamed. The axe bit into his left upper arm.

It wasn’t severed—but it might as well have been. The axe edge cut the outer flesh and muscle and bone. The limb, barely hanging and dangling, served up agony in its own right.

“Y-you cur!”

Ming Heon stared at Yeon Hojeong with frightened eyes.

Yeon Hojeong’s expression—unexpectedly—was obscure. He neither smiled nor grew angry. He was simply, endlessly indifferent.

An atmosphere that brooked no defiance.

It was as if the head of a sacred house, who had mastered the world’s number-one art, stood there. Even in hideous pain, Ming Heon shut his mouth without meaning to.

Then, again, Ming Hwi rushed in.

“You monster!”

Flash!

He was faster than Ming Heon.

He closed at terrifying speed and swung the Phoenix Soaring Sword. It carried a heat of fire qi as if he’d staked all—and an unrestrained destructive force.

Bang! Vmmmm.

In stride, barreling for Ming Heon, Yeon Hojeong’s motion slowed for a beat.

Slow—and supple. A change as natural as flowing water.

From Unmoving Pillar to White Tiger Lord’s Step; from White Tiger Lord’s Step back to Unmoving Pillar.

He implemented entirely different arts to suit the moment—yet the shifts were lightning-fast and natural.

The Four Spirit line’s arts, battle-tested, were gradually fusing to his body. As recently as a few shichen ago, such transitions in footwork were beyond dreaming.

This was precisely the Four Spirit’s battlefield art. One who forges the Four Spirit grows the steeper the more he stakes his life.

The heavy axe and the light, flamboyant sword met head-on.

Chzzzeo-o-ong!

Ming Hwi spat blood and fell back.

Now he was losing in strength as well. The two who held the edge in sheer skill—before Yeon Hojeong, weaker than they, could not so much as twitch, like mice before a cat.

“You mustn’t use it like that.”

Thud.

Yeon Hojeong sank his stance.

“Blood Wing Sweeps the Heavens is a footwork of extremity-kill. Use it as a movement art and you’ll only court collapse.”

“Y-you—!”

“That art is far too much for the likes of you.”

“Uraaaaah!”

Ming Hwi and Ming Heon shrieked and leapt.

A gleam flashed in Yeon Hojeong’s eyes.

Whooom.

Before they knew it, his body had passed between the two.

As Ming Hwi and Ming Heon, who had launched sword-and-palm together, tilted their heads—

Fwaaaash!

Both bodies split on the bias.

Yeon Hojeong’s gaze sank cold.

“As expected, with strength at your level, Vermilion Bird Qi does not open.”

He lifted his head.

Three hundred of the White Dragon Army were staring at Yeon Hojeong in horror.

Yeon Hojeong looked up to the sky.

Late at night, the white moon and countless stars glittered as if they would pour down.

Thud.

Hooking the axe over his shoulder point, Yeon Hojeong lowered his head and looked to the White Dragon Army.

“Bring your Clan Lord.”