Black and White Martial Emperor

“Ah, Deputy Commander Mookbi.”

“Commander.”

Mookbi bowed her head.

“How are you feeling?”

Mo Yong-woo gave a wry smile.

“I’m fine. More importantly, thank you for what you did the other day. If you hadn’t arrived when you did, things would have been truly dire.”

Regardless of whether the mission itself had succeeded, Mookbi and Sima Hyeon had blasted through the fortress wall, slain countless assassins, and saved Demon-Sweeping Corps soldiers who had been on the verge of death.

That alone had been an enormous help. Without the two of them, the Demon-Sweeping Corps might have suffered far greater losses.

Mookbi shook her head.

“No. I only went because the Supreme Commander ordered me to. And putting that aside, we’re all on the same side. Of course I would help.”

She said it because she was afraid Mo Yong-woo might harbor resentment—or worse, think poorly of Yeon Hojeong. Whatever else happened, she did not want Yeon Hojeong to look bad in his eyes.

Mo Yong-woo smiled.

“I know. How could I not? But lives that might otherwise have been lost were saved because of you. As commander of the Demon-Sweeping Corps, it is only right that I thank you.”

“Ah...”

For a moment, she worried that she might have offended him, but as expected, the concern proved needless.

Mo Yong-woo did not resent Yeon Hojeong. If anything, he understood him, and he was deeply grateful that Yeon had sent Mookbi as reinforcement at all.

A faint bitterness settled over Mookbi.

He trusts him.

She knew because Yeon Hojeong had told her. He intended to make Mo Yong-woo the next Martial Alliance Leader.

Mo Yong-woo surely knew that as well. Whatever burden that placed on him, the very fact that such a conversation had taken place meant the trust between them ran deep.

Just as Young Master Yeon and I are bound by trust, Commander Mo Yong is bound to him by trust as well.

And just as she had formed bonds of friendship with the Evil-Smiting Corps, Mo Yong-woo must have forged equally deep ties with the Demon-Sweeping Corps.

That was what amazed her. If she had been in his place, surrounded by the shock of losing so many subordinates, she doubted she could have regained her composure as quickly as he had.

Is this the difference in the measure of a person?

Perhaps. Perhaps not.

What mattered was that Mo Yong-woo was far more remarkable than she had realized. The only reason five hundred Demon-Sweeping Corps soldiers had managed to hold off nine hundred assassins intimately familiar with the Night Citadel was because Mo Yong-woo had grasped the fortress’s layout in such a short time and deployed his forces exactly where they were needed.

He was underestimated in more ways than one. That was Mookbi’s conclusion. She still did not know exactly why Yeon Hojeong wanted him to become the Martial Alliance Leader, but at the very least, Yeon had not chosen him lightly.

“There is something I’d like to ask.”

“Please speak freely. I’m only a deputy commander.”

“I can hardly do that. Deputy commander may be your official rank, but in practice you are little different from the commander of the Evil-Smiting Corps.”

“A rank is still a rank.”

Mo Yong-woo regarded her silently for a moment, then nodded.

“Very well. Then I’ll speak more casually from now on.”

“Please do.”

“I’ll get straight to the point. Where is the Supreme Commander?”

“He stepped out for a while. He had something to take care of.”

“Hmm.”

Mookbi was about to add that he should not misunderstand, that it was not because Yeon cared nothing for the Demon-Sweeping Corps, when another thought occurred to her and she closed her mouth. Mo Yong-woo trusted Yeon Hojeong too. There was no need to explain what did not need explaining.

She was right.

“I heard that dealing with the Yin God isn’t the end of this. There’s another mission?”

“Ah, yes.”

“You already knew?”

“I did.”

“Then explain it to me. I heard in passing that our field force would have to deal with Guangdong’s public-security problems as well, but I assumed that was merely an extension of eliminating the Yin God. I didn’t realize it had been assigned as a separate objective.”

A mere deputy commander knew something that he, a commander, did not.

It would have been understandable if that offended him, but Mo Yong-woo showed no displeasure at all. In truth, he felt none.

He simply assumed there was a reason.

Mookbi spoke calmly.

“Guangdong Province has developed a culture distinct from the rest of the Central Plains.”

“I know.”

“That also makes it difficult for the central government to exercise proper control over the region. That’s why so many capable officials were sent there.”

“Go on.”

“But once the Yin God is removed, Guangdong’s underworld will be thrown into turmoil. That much is inevitable. Its king will be gone, and countless jackals will rush in to seize the vacant throne.”

Mo Yong-woo’s eyes sharpened.

“And ordinary people will suffer badly because of them.”

As expected, he grasped the problem immediately.

“Exactly. Which means stabilizing Guangdong requires bringing the underworld under control.”

“That won’t be easy.”

“The Supreme Commander said the same thing. If the major Dark Path factions were fighting openly for supremacy, it might actually be simpler. But when a pack of small-time factions goes to war, they’re much harder to get at.”

“Naturally. Weak jackals blend into ordinary society. They have nothing else to rely on, so even for their own survival, they have no choice but to hide themselves that way.”

“Which means rooting them out one by one would be an incredibly difficult task. It would be hard enough with only the field-force units and intelligence organizations at our disposal, and there’s no telling how long it would take.”

“Then...”

Mo Yong-woo murmured almost to himself.

“The orthodox factions of Guangdong, after all... And ideally, we would go a step further and cooperate with the provincial government as well...”

Surprise flashed through Mookbi’s eyes.

He’s incredible.

Simply from hearing the situation explained, he had arrived at the best possible solution.

Whether it was realistically achievable or not, the ideal way to ensure Guangdong could maintain its own stability was for the orthodox factions and the provincial government to work together to keep the underworld in check.

“Then the Supreme Commander must be extremely busy. The orthodox factions can probably be coordinated somehow through the Martial Alliance’s name, but the provincial government...”

“Yes. That seems to be the part he’s struggling with most.”

“I see.”

Mo Yong-woo nodded.

“Very well. Did he say when he would return?”

“I expect sometime after sunset.”

“Understood. I’ll come back then.”

“All right.”

“Ah, one more thing. I heard one of the Evil-Smiting Corps soldiers was badly wounded. He’s a disciple of the Sword Immortal, correct?”

“His name is Okcheong. Fortunately, he’s regained consciousness. He still can’t move much, though.”

Mo Yong-woo nodded.

“Make sure he’s looked after properly so there are no lasting complications. As the Sword Immortal’s disciple, I’m sure he knows how to care for himself, but it never hurts to be cautious.”

“...I understand.”

Even after losing so many of his own men, he was this concerned about the condition of a single Evil-Smiting Corps soldier.

It was not simply generosity. To Mo Yong-woo, there was no real distinction anymore between the Evil-Smiting Corps and the Demon-Sweeping Corps. Only the people responsible for commanding them were different.

“Then I’ll be going. Take care of yourself as well. We never know what orders may come next.”

Mookbi’s eyes sharpened.

“I will.”

With that, Mo Yong-woo left.

Watching him disappear into the distance, Mookbi murmured softly,

“...Either I’m still far too inexperienced, or those men are simply built on a completely different scale.”

Beomo’s eyes widened.

“Supreme Commander Yeon!!”

His booming voice was practically another Lion’s Roar in itself.

Yeon Hojeong did not so much as blink. He did not even glance at Beomo.

He merely stared at the old man with eyes so cold that something almost mad glimmered within them.

The old man spoke.

“You said your name was Beomo?”

“What? Ah, yes!”

“That’s enough.”

“B-but Grandmaster!”

A peculiar gleam flashed through Yeon Hojeong’s eyes.

Grandmaster.

Ordinarily, the term referred to one’s master’s master, though it could also be used for revered elders of still earlier generations.

In other words, the old man had to be, at the very least, a monk of Shaolin from the previous generation—and might even belong to the generation before that.

Common sense suggested the former was more likely. Members of the generation before the previous one were exceedingly rare in any sect. Most had either died of old age or withdrawn somewhere no one could find them to devote the rest of their lives to cultivation.

Yet there was something unusual about the profound air surrounding this old man. His age was difficult to gauge, and though he had clearly cultivated Buddhist Inner Qi, there was something distinctly worldly about him. It felt as though he had not opened a Buddhist scripture in a very long time.

One thing, however, was certain.

The man before him belonged to a generation no one could casually disregard.

The old man straightened his posture.

“You were right. I appeared out of nowhere, and then I got carried away and played a rather nasty prank on you. For that, I owe you a proper apology.”

“...”

“Let me introduce myself first. I call myself Tamgyeong.”

Tamgyeong.

It was an exceedingly strange set of characters for a name. Taken literally, it meant one who sought the scriptures, hardly something that sounded like a proper personal name.

“What? You find the name odd?”

“...”

“Ha ha ha. Truth be told, I don’t even remember my secular name. I simply took what I do now and made a name from it. Back when I still belonged to the Buddhist order, my Dharma name was Gakryo.”

Yeon Hojeong’s pupils widened slightly.

Gakryo? The Gak generation!

The current abbot’s generation at Shaolin bore Dharma names beginning with Gong.

Above them was the Mu generation of the legendary Venerable Muheo.

And above the Mu generation stood the generation before that—the Gak generation.

In other words, the old man called Tamgyeong belonged to Shaolin’s generation before the previous one.

In a sense, Yeon Hojeong had just encountered an elder of the martial world even harder to meet than one of the great masters of the Supreme Heavens.

But that was the full extent of his surprise.

“I know your name now. Explain why you threatened me by invoking the provincial government.”

Tremble.

Beomo’s body shook faintly.

This was not merely because they were from Shaolin. In any sect, an elder from two generations before the current leadership would normally be treated with corresponding reverence. Whatever the level of their martial arts, such a person was practically a living witness to history.

Yet Yeon Hojeong showed the Grandmaster no respect whatsoever.

Beomo struggled to suppress the anger surging inside him.

Tamgyeong, on the other hand, burst out laughing.

“Ha ha ha ha! What a refreshingly forthright junior. Yes, the world has truly changed. I shut myself away in a cave, severed my ties to the secular world, and lived without even noticing the passage of time—and while I was gone, the world produced extraordinary people once again.”

“...”

“Very well. I’ll explain. But first, I would like you to answer one question.”

“Ask.”

“Let me be clear. Depending on the truth, this may be a secret you would rather keep hidden. Of course, this is only my conjecture. But if I am right, then you are truly an extraordinary man.”

Yeon Hojeong frowned.

“I dislike wasting time. If you have a question, ask it.”

“Ha ha ha! Very well, very well.”

At that moment, Tamgyeong’s eyes changed completely.

The transformation was so striking that even Yeon Hojeong felt a chill run down his spine.

It was not an aura that could be produced through martial attainment or Inner Qi.

Those were the eyes of an extraordinary recluse—and a madman—who had devoted his entire life to a single purpose, sacrificing everything in pursuit of the one thing he sought.

“Who was your master?”

“...?!”

“Is that difficult to answer? Then let me ask another way.”

Tamgyeong’s eyes shone like the sun.

“Have you mastered the Four Spirits?”