Black and White Martial Emperor

The Buddhist Lion’s Roar suppresses all evil and demonic forces.

But that saying revealed only half the truth. The Lion’s Roar was indeed a supreme Buddhist art of extraordinary power, yet its might did not affect everyone equally.

The divine arts of Buddhism and Daoism stood in direct opposition to the martial arts of heretics and demons. That merely meant they could strike practitioners of such arts more easily and decisively than others. It did not mean they could completely disregard a difference in realm.

Conversely, when the practitioner of an evil or demonic art possessed overwhelmingly greater cultivation, they could crush someone trained in Buddhist Inner Qi more easily than anyone else.

That was the nature of compatibility.

Boom!

Mo Yong-woo staggered backward, coughing blood.

Through an ambush and careful preparation, he had managed to drive his sword into Yayul Jeok’s abdomen. Even so, Yayul Jeok remained the superior master. He contracted his abdomen in an instant and sent Mo Yong-woo flying with a palm strike, the flow of his power and technique perfectly natural and fluid.

“You bastards!”

Yayul Jeok’s eyes became bloodshot.

Then—

‘What?’

He saw cold madness in Mo Yong-woo’s eyes as the man was hurled away.

His gaze did not waver even at a moment when panic would have been natural. It was almost as though he had expected this—and even appeared pleased with himself.

Why?

ROOOAAAR!

A ferocious Lion’s Roar erupted behind him, and Yayul Jeok’s neck flushed bright red.

“Cough!”

Blood poured from his nose and mouth. His face turned deathly pale, so colorless that he resembled a corpse even without drawing upon Supreme Yin God Qi.

‘D-Damn it!’

This was the true Lion’s Roar of Shaolin.

Beomo’s realm was lower than Yayul Jeok’s, so the full power of the Lion’s Roar could not affect him properly.

However, Yayul Jeok had yet to heal his internal and external injuries. Moreover, Shaolin was the sun of the Orthodox Path, surpassing every other Buddhist school in martial prestige.

Each of those factors had become a lethal threat to him. Even the reason his Beast King Evil Qi had reacted to Mo Yong-woo’s pressure earlier, rather than Supreme Yin God Qi, was because Beomo’s Lion’s Roar had stirred his underlying nature.

“Raaaaagh!”

Yayul Jeok let out a savage howl that was half scream and half battle cry, then violently swept out his arm.

Rumble!

The curving palm force tore across the ground, carving out a massive trench.

Beomo’s eyes shook.

‘Powerful!’

Its might was staggering. The martial art itself might have possessed less raw force than Shaolin’s Great Vajra Palm, which Beomo had used when he first arrived, but Yayul Jeok’s internal force was so much stronger that the result surpassed it.

Even the Three Talents Sword Art became a supreme sword technique in the hands of a master. That was all the more true for Yayul Jeok, whose martial arts had reached the pinnacle even within the realm of Transcendent Peak.

‘You bastard!’

Beomo clenched his fist without realizing it. He intended to close the distance in a single burst and unleash a punch.

Then Mo Yong-woo’s voice transmission reached him.

[Follow the plan!]

Beomo flinched.

He immediately unclenched his fist and moved to the left.

Boom! Boom!

The ground exploded, and a nearby building slowly began to lean.

Beomo’s gaze deepened.

‘That last attack was impressive enough despite his internal and external injuries, but even these successive fist winds are tremendous.’

Every strike possessed power on the level of a killing move that Beomo would have to gather his strength deliberately to unleash.

In other words, Yayul Jeok could repeatedly employ techniques whose force Beomo could only produce by drawing upon his full power.

Had he attempted to counter with the Arhat Divine Fist, he would certainly have suffered internal injuries. The realization made Beomo’s vision swim.

‘Commander Mo was right. If we turn this into a straightforward two-against-one battle, our losses will be immense!’

A wounded tiger was still a tiger.

Beomo tightened his lower abdomen.

The demon-subduing True Qi of the Mahayana Brahma Divine Art gathered with terrifying force.

ROOOAAAR!

“Urgh!”

Yayul Jeok groaned and stumbled just as he was about to launch another palm strike.

The damage was even greater because he had been raising his True Qi for a follow-up attack. Beomo’s perfectly timed Lion’s Roar severed the flow of his qi circulation.

Fwoosh!

Mo Yong-woo, who had been hurled away, closed in again at frightening speed.

Even through the haze of worsening internal injuries, Yayul Jeok’s senses had not died. Acting not through reason but instinct, his hand curled like that of a crouching beast and lashed out at the charging Mo Yong-woo.

Crack! Thud!

A chunk of Mo Yong-woo’s left shoulder blade was torn away.

It was a reckless charge, unlike him. He was fortunate that his entire shoulder had not been ripped off.

His fist smashed into Yayul Jeok’s chest.

Boom!

Yayul Jeok coughed blood again and staggered.

This alone would never kill him. Mo Yong-woo had known that even before throwing the punch.

Whirl!

He placed his full weight behind the strike, then spun the instant it landed, shedding the remaining force as he snatched up the greatsword from the ground.

The entire sequence was so swift and natural that it resembled a single continuous form. Unlike Yeon Hojeong’s wildly unconventional movements, Mo Yong-woo’s were entirely rational and disciplined.

Gripping the greatsword in both hands, Mo Yong-woo swung it powerfully upward.

Slash!

His eyes deepened.

‘Not enough.’

A diagonal sword wound appeared across Yayul Jeok’s face.

Even then, he had tilted his head aside and avoided losing his nose and eye. His instincts were astonishing. Calling him a beast would not have been an exaggeration.

Boom!

Mo Yong-woo stamped down hard.

A chill swept across Yayul Jeok’s entire body. He sensed a decisive strike in that stamping step.

In that fleeting instant, his thoughts raced.

‘I have to escape.’

He had never imagined that the two of them would fight like this. If Mo Yong-woo and the Shaolin monk had attacked together, he could have countered somehow. But whenever the monk unleashed his Lion’s Roar at the right moment, Yayul Jeok’s ability to execute his martial arts suffered severe disruption.

Failing to anticipate this combination had cost him dearly. Just as Mo Yong-woo had said, his grave internal and external injuries were one problem, but so was the urgency that had driven him to charge in without thinking.

‘I must escape. They will keep using this tactic until the end.’

Pride was a luxury in a duel to the death.

These two understood that.

‘I cannot break through. Not anymore. I have to run!’

Escape.

And escape again.

‘I must—’

Yayul Jeok’s eyes trembled.

In that instant, one face flashed through his mind.

A monster gazing down at him with blazing eyes.

Cold yet burning. Burning yet detached. Detached yet overflowing with Killing Intent.

The arrogant visage of Yeon Hojeong.

BOOM!

Yayul Jeok’s stamping step shook the citadel.

Mo Yong-woo, who had been about to unleash the strongest strike of the Heaven-and-Earth Hundred-Eight Sword Sea, felt his stance collapse for an instant. Just as Beomo had disrupted Yayul Jeok’s True Qi, Yayul Jeok had moved half a beat ahead and cut off Mo Yong-woo’s attack.

“You fucking bastards!”

His thunderous voice rang with maddened rage.

“How dare whelps like you force me—!”

Boom!

Yayul Jeok could not even finish speaking before coughing blood.

This time, it was not the Lion’s Roar.

It was the Arhat Divine Fist.

A swift fist wind released from fifty feet away slammed into Yayul Jeok’s back.

The timing was perfect. Had Beomo relied on the Lion’s Roar alone, Mo Yong-woo would have been in danger. Beomo’s practical combat instincts were impressive in their own right.

Wooooong!

Sky-blue True Qi gathered around the Demon-Sweeping Greatsword.

It was the color of a cloudless blue sky—so pure that the longer one looked, the darker it seemed. Supreme sword energy blazed from the weapon, chilling anyone who saw it.

Fear appeared on Yayul Jeok’s face.

This was dangerous.

He could not block the coming strike. In his current condition, burdened by such severe internal and external injuries, even evasion seemed impossible.

His instincts screamed the warning.

‘No.’

The chaotic haze left by Beomo’s fist wind seemed to clear from his mind.

‘I cannot die here.’

Through Mo Yong-woo and Beomo’s coordinated attack, Yayul Jeok felt fear for the first time in years.

It was the fear of death—something he had not even felt while fighting Yeon Hojeong.

But only now did he finally return to his true self.

‘Even if I die here, I must complete the mission!’

Why had he returned to the Night Citadel?

Why had he risked death to infiltrate it?

Why had he sent the Dark Emperor Corps he had painstakingly raised into a frontal assault?

Rumble!

Yayul Jeok’s eyes darkened for an instant, then turned a deep gray.

At the same time, Mo Yong-woo’s eyes flashed with the blue brilliance of the open sky.

“Cleave!”

Flash!

A single dazzling sword strike tore across the air.

Rrrrrrumble!

A monstrous storm of sword energy swept through the area.

It was only one stroke, but the internal force contained within it and the principles of force emission it unleashed were peerless under heaven.

At the center of the citadel, where the sword power erupted, a massive scar nearly seventy feet long split both the earth and the fortress wall. The shock wave bursting from the cleaving strike sent the rubble of ruined buildings flying in every direction.

It was a sword strike of monstrous force.

The Clear-Sky Sword of the Earthly Soul—the strongest technique of the Heaven-and-Earth Hundred-Eight Sword Sea that Mo Yong-woo could currently wield.

Rumble!

The ground collapsed, and a vast cloud of dust billowed upward.

“Damn it!”

Panting heavily, Mo Yong-woo shouted urgently.

“Monk Beomo! He escaped!”

“Damn it! I know!”

The curse burst from Beomo’s mouth before he could stop it.

He could hardly help himself. Yayul Jeok had seemed ready to charge Mo Yong-woo, only to abruptly change direction, attack Beomo, and flee.

The one fortunate thing was that Yayul Jeok’s attack had been easier to block than expected.

‘Damn it! I fell for such a cheap trick!’

Beomo looked down at the ground.

An arm severed at the shoulder lay there, still twitching.

Yayul Jeok’s arm.

Mo Yong-woo shouted.

“Follow the blood trail! He cannot have gone far!”

“Understood!”

Fwoosh!

Beomo launched himself after the trail of blood.

He tried to locate Yayul Jeok’s uniquely sinister qi waves, but could sense nothing. Yayul Jeok seemed to have instantly adjusted his True Qi and returned from a follower of the Perverse Lust Cult to the Yin God.

Flash!

Fortunately, he had suffered a mortal wound. His presence, normally hidden beyond detection, occasionally surged violently. In his haste, Yayul Jeok could not properly manage his internal injuries, causing his True Qi to flare out of control.

After sending Beomo ahead, Mo Yong-woo coughed up a handful of blood.

“Cough!”

The blood was dark crimson. He had gathered all the turbid energy inside his body and expelled it at once.

Color returned to his pallid face.

“Team Leader Jin! The enemy leader has entered the citadel! Concentrate every available force in the center in preparation for any unforeseen developments!”

Jin Pae’s voice came from the distance.

“Understood!”

Boom!

Mo Yong-woo raced after Beomo in pursuit of Yayul Jeok.

*****

Astonishingly, Yayul Jeok continued fleeing through the Night Citadel for more than four hours.

Despite his grave internal injuries and severed arm, he somehow kept running without rest.

That was not all.

Deciding that a frontal assault was no longer viable, he employed a technique known as the Silent Listening Wave, which only assassins could hear, and drew all nine hundred assassins into the secret passages.

The Night Citadel descended into utter chaos.

Beomo and Mo Yong-woo chased Yayul Jeok. The Dark Emperor Corps entered the fortress through the hidden passages, while the soldiers of the Demon-Sweeping Corps, gathered at the center, fought a fierce battle against the assassins pouring out of them.

By the time the sun had risen high into the sky—

Fweeeee! BOOM!

Mookbi and Sima Hyeon blasted through the fortress wall with a shot from the Dragon Fang Cannon and entered the Night Citadel.