Black and White Martial Emperor

“How are you feeling?”

“......”

“You still seem very confused.”

“......”

Hwaun remained silent.

That was only natural. She was sitting before the man who had forced her to recognize the ugliness in herself, and she had yet to bring her own mind under control. There was no reason the words should come easily.

Beomo quietly studied her expression before offering her a cup of tea.

“This tea is brewed from medicinal herbs that grow on Mount Song. I couldn’t call it tasty even out of politeness, but there is nothing quite like it for calming the mind.”

Medicinal leaves were among the things Shaolin monks always carried when traveling through the martial world. They had no remarkable medicinal effects. Rather, the monks would steep them from time to time so that their fragrance might remind them never to forget what they had been taught at Shaolin.

Hwaun stared listlessly at the cup for a moment, then carefully lifted it and took a sip.

Beomo smiled.

“How is it?”

“Bitter.”

“Haha. I suppose it would be. They haven’t been dried for use as tea for very long. Originally, the herb was used to maintain a proper balance of yang energy.”

“......”

Hwaun silently looked down into the tea.

Unlike its intensely bitter taste, the liquid itself was remarkably clear.

Reflected perfectly on its transparent surface was the face of a middle-aged woman, visibly exhausted and confused.

Beomo continued.

“You are still deeply confused, aren’t you?”

“......”

“My circumstances were different from yours, Practitioner Hwa, but until quite recently, I too had strayed far not only from the Buddha’s path, but even from the path of a decent human being. Setting myself right was by no means easy.”

Hwaun raised her head and looked at him.

Beomo openly admitted that he had strayed from the path, yet there was not the slightest trace of confusion on his face.

He nodded.

“If we wish to become better than we are, we must begin by acknowledging the ugliness of who we are now. Whether one studies the Dharma or not, all human growth begins there.”

Hwaun smiled.

It was difficult to tell whether she was mocking herself or mocking him.

“I must look rather pathetic to you.”

“Of course.”

Beomo’s answer was unexpectedly merciless.

“You committed a grave wrong. For someone who walks the path of cultivation, it was an even greater transgression. You are aware of that yourself, are you not?”

When he put it that bluntly, there was nothing she could say.

Beomo shook his head.

“Committing a wrong is not, in itself, something to be ashamed of. We are human. We can make mistakes. The problem begins when we clearly recognize that something was wrong and still choose to turn away from it. Deceiving oneself—that is something one truly should be ashamed of.”

“......”

“Be ashamed. Deeply so. But there is no need to let that shame destroy you.”

Hwaun wanted to sigh.

She wanted to sigh again and again, deeply enough to sink the earth beneath her.

But a Shaolin monk was sitting before her. She could not even bring herself to sigh freely.

...

And at that moment, she realized something.

Just how intimidating she found Shaolin.

No—not only her. To every monk of the Buddhist order throughout the Central Plains, the name Shaolin carried an almost overwhelming weight.

Had he realized what she was thinking?

Beomo continued in an even voice.

“Is my being from Shaolin making you uncomfortable?”

“......”

“If I had not been from Shaolin, would the old you—the you who was drowning in afflictions—have denied the truth and resisted to the bitter end even after hearing that Lion’s Roar?”

“That......”

“No. You would not have.”

Beomo smiled.

“Then why are you so concerned with my opinion? Whether I come from Shaolin or not, the person who matters here is you, Practitioner Hwa. Stop concerning yourself with empty formality and look at yourself first.”

“But......”

“Shaolin, too, is merely an organization made up of monks. The toil and sacrifice of the masters of former generations created the Shaolin of today, but I doubt they ever wished for Shaolin to seize privilege and wield it over others.”

“......”

“Do not run away. Do not gather countless excuses merely so you can keep avoiding the truth.”

HUM.

A faint golden light suffused Beomo’s eyes.

“Come back, Practitioner Hwa.”

In the end, Hwaun could do nothing but release the deepest sigh she had breathed in a very long time.

“I’m not there yet.”

“What do you mean?”

“I acknowledge what I did wrong. I do. And yet part of me still doesn’t want to acknowledge it.”

“Is that so?”

“I keep wanting to run away. To be completely honest, I want to cast aside the name of Putuo and flee somewhere far away, to some other corner of the world.”

Beomo’s smile deepened.

“I see.”

For the first time, Hwaun had spoken honestly about what was in her heart.

She wanted to abandon Putuo and run away?

Anyone human could feel that way. It was hardly an attitude worthy of someone bearing the title of enlightened practitioner, but to Beomo, the simple fact that she had acknowledged the feeling within herself meant that she had already taken a tremendous step forward.

Hwaun drew a deep breath.

“For now... I don’t want to force myself to do anything. I simply want to be alone.”

Beomo rose from his seat.

“Whatever conclusion you ultimately reach, now that you have clearly acknowledged your past wrongs, I believe you will be able to walk a brighter path than the one you walked before.”

“......Thank you.”

“May you find peace.”

Beomo offered her a one-palm Buddhist greeting, then turned to leave the room.

At that moment, Hwaun called out.

“Beomo.”

“Yes?”

“Where is Jeongan?”

“Hmm?”

A rare look of surprise crossed Beomo’s face.

“Did Practitioner Jeong not stop by to see you?”

“What?”

“Practitioner Jeong has gone on a short journey with Supreme Commander Yeon.”

Hwaun stared at him blankly.

“A journey? Where in the world did they......”

“They intend to visit the two most powerful forces in the martial world of the Central Plains.”

“......?!”

******

“Commander.”

“You’re here.”

Jin Pae bowed his head.

“I’m told Supreme Commander Yeon left this place an hour ago with Swordsman Gang and an heir of Putuo.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes.”

Yeon had once told him that one day he might leave without warning and asked him to take care of the Righteous Justice Corps.

Still, Mo Yong-woo had not expected him to actually leave without so much as a word of farewell.

That really is just like you.

A wry smile crossed Mo Yong-woo’s face.

“Until the Supreme Commander returns, or until new orders come down from above, we will remain here.”

“Yes.”

“The Beggars’ Union will contact us. But our mission is not simply to sit here and wait. Until Guangdong’s orthodox martial world is back on its feet and public sentiment has stabilized, we will be taking the field whenever necessary.”

Jin Pae’s eyes gleamed.

“Then......”

“That’s right.”

Mo Yong-woo tapped his sword sheath with his fingers.

“We have to become stronger. Until Guangdong Province recovers, scoundrels hoping to exploit the power vacuum will keep appearing. And there is always the possibility that someone genuinely formidable will be among them.”

“Indeed.”

“We need to train properly. By the time we see the Supreme Commander again, the Righteous Justice Corps should be twice as strong as it is now.”

Uncharacteristically for his normally steady temperament, Jin Pae flashed a playful smile.

“When the man at the top is that exceptional, it’s his subordinates who suffer trying to keep up.”

“You can say that again.”

“I wasn’t speaking only of the Supreme Commander.”

“Hmm?”

“Your presence has changed again as well, Commander. It feels more substantial than before. Softer, too.”

Jin Pae understood that growth did not mean one’s presence simply became stronger and sharper.

The growth of a true master was closer to becoming fuller than merely stronger, and closer to becoming softer than sharper.

It was the orthodox progression of a master of internal arts. In the martial world of the present day, where bizarre and unorthodox methods of training were everywhere, Mo Yong-woo was one of the few who continued to advance along such a conventional path.

Mo Yong-woo gave a bitter smile.

“I’m still confused myself. I trust the path I’m walking, but the further martial arts advance, the more complicated the damned things become.”

“We would love to reach the point where we could at least feel that complexity.”

“You’re all doing well enough. And I’m not saying that merely to be polite.”

“I know. We simply intend to keep doing our best until one day we can reach the same heights as you.”

“Haha! You absolutely should.”

The five squad leaders of the Demon-Sweeping Corps were each roughly one step below the strongest soldier of the Evil-Smiting Corps other than Mookbi.

If those five eventually reached a level comparable to Mo Yong-woo’s current heights, and if the Evil-Smiting Corps, spurred onward by them, achieved similar growth in turn—

then one day, the Righteous Justice Corps might grow into not merely the strongest unit in the Martial Alliance, but the strongest force of its kind in the entire martial world.

“Rest is every bit as important as training. End today’s training here and tell everyone to rest properly until tomorrow.”

“We’re taking a day off the moment the Supreme Commander leaves?”

“Enough nonsense. Just pass on the order.”

“Hahaha! Understood.”

Jin Pae left Mo Yong-woo’s quarters.

Left alone, Mo Yong-woo quietly looked up at the sky.

Beyond the blue expanse above, he could almost see Yeon Hojeong’s confident face.

You’re a genius the world may never see again. And a genius overflowing with chivalrous spirit at that. One day, you’ll become one of the great pillars of the martial world.

Mo Yong-woo did not doubt it for a moment.

Yeon Hojeong would not merely become the strongest martial artist of the next generation. He would become a giant capable of shifting the very balance of the martial world.

That was precisely why Mo Yong-woo worried about him.

Your chivalrous spirit and this chaotic world keep you far too busy. But this has to be the last time you go off on your own like this. The Righteous Justice Corps isn’t an organization for you to protect from danger. It’s an organization meant to fight beside you.

The next time he met Yeon Hojeong, he would make sure to tell him that.

Mo Yong-woo gazed at the sky for a long while.

Then, suddenly, he smiled and drew his sword.

“If I’m the elder brother, then even if I can’t surpass my younger brother, I certainly can’t afford to fall behind him.”

SWISH!

Mo Yong-woo swung his sword with vigor.

It was the signature art of the Mo Yong Clan head—the Heaven-and-Earth Hundred-Eight Sword Sea.

Just as its name suggested, his swordsmanship was vast and majestic enough to seem as though it embraced heaven and earth.

******

CRUNCH.

The crumbling earth beneath their feet made it unmistakable that they had left Guangdong Province behind.

Standing atop a high hill and gazing down across the world below, Yeon Hojeong’s eyes seemed clearer and deeper than before.

“What do you think?”

Jeongan tilted her head at the question.

“About what?”

“Hmm. I suppose you haven’t quite reached that point yet.”

She had no idea what he meant.

This time, Yeon Hojeong turned to Gangryang.

“What about you? What do you feel?”

“If you strip away every bit of context and ask it like that, anyone would be confused. How are we supposed to know what you’re asking us to feel?”

“Really?”

“Of course. Though......”

Gangryang looked out across the vast lands of Hunan.

His gaze was sharper than Jeongan’s.

Sharper even than Yeon Hojeong’s.

“The air feels a little heavy.”

“Heavy......”

“Yes. There’s quite a bit of tension in it. It wouldn’t surprise me if something happened at any moment.”

Yeon Hojeong smiled.

“So your instincts aren’t completely useless after all.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Jeongan tilted her head again.

“There’s that much tension?”

She could not sense it at all.

If anything, she found Hunan appealing. It felt different from Guangdong—sultry, yet somehow comfortable and expansive.

There was little she could do about that.

Jeongan had very little experience with bloody melees. When it came to reading Killing Intent, no degree of cultivation could replace the instincts forged through actual experience.

“Yes. The tension is everywhere.”

Yeon Hojeong looked into the distance.

“And this close to Ink Dragon Manor, where do you think that tension is coming from?”

“......!”

Yeon Hojeong’s eyes gleamed a vivid blue.

“I suppose it’s time to send the Lord of Ink Dragon Manor an invitation.”