Black and White Martial Emperor

FWAAANG!

An endlessly soft, slow sword-form toyed with the air.

The form was slow, yet the amount of true qi unspooling from the sword tip—thread by thread—remained perfectly constant.

In an extreme situation, sword and qi move as one. But...

In the end, completing a martial art’s form for real combat depended on the practitioner’s physical capability and the way he operated his internal energy.

That was why a master could use a form identical to the crude punches of marketplace thugs and still suppress an opponent. With a refined body and delicate internal-energy control, he manifested speed and sharpness.

It’s creaking.

Regret flickered in Mo Yong-woo’s eyes as he watched the trajectory drawn by the sword tip.

Internal-energy control is sufficient, but the body isn’t carved down yet. The lower body is solid, but a minute error appears in the angle of the arm’s extension. It’s the shoulder.

An eye sharp enough to judge his own martial arts as coldly as if he were a third party.

Even though, as Zhejiang branch chief, he’d lived a life focused more on work than on martial arts, that was why he could keep improving. His skill was good, but his eye was far sharper than that.

The sword that had moved only slowly suddenly displayed an inexplicable speed.

TAAAAANG!

A powerful step that flipped the surface of the ground—paired with a strong sword that cleaved the empty air—wove a net of sword-forms.

It was frighteningly fast and precise. And it carried a force as hard as steel.

He embodied an extremely high level of the martial way. Only the forging of his body was lacking—his insight alone had built a realm beyond his present execution.

Using explosive cardiopulmonary power, Mo Yong-woo practiced the Heaven-and-Earth One Hundred Eight Sword Solutions for more than a quarter hour, then finally stopped.

“Hoooo...”

His entire body burned red.

It hurts.

Muscles all over his body ached as if they were about to tear. The fact that his joints weren’t damaged—was that the only mercy here?

I need more efficient physical training. For a while, I should set the sword down and look back over my body and my internal energy.

Then applause came from the side.

Clap, clap, clap.

Mo Yong-woo turned his head. Mo Yonggun stood there.

“That was impressive.”

“Brother.”

The surprise on Mo Yonggun’s face was genuine.

“I knew you were devoting yourself to training day by day, but when did you grow like this? Your realm in Sword Solutions has already reached Sword Sea.”

Mo Yong-woo said bitterly.

“I have the insight, but my body doesn’t follow. I’m still far—very far.”

“Don’t speak that way. You haven’t even trained the Heaven-and-Earth martial arts for a full year, and you’re already at that level. Your talent is truly astonishing.”

Of course, it was only possible because the martial arts and experience Mo Yong-woo had cultivated until now were exceptional. Even factoring that in, his growth was staggering.

Mo Yonggun smiled with clear warmth—an approving smile.

“Slow Sword training followed by a chain of Fast Sword and Strong Sword. It’s a traditional method, but the burden on the body inevitably becomes severe. Training is good, but you must take care of your body as well.”

“I understand.”

“Good.”

Mo Yong-woo asked, puzzled.

“However, what brings you here at this hour? Has the Hall of the Martial Sage meeting already ended?”

“It has.”

Mo Yonggun rubbed his jaw.

Seeing that, Mo Yong-woo was certain. His brother had something to say.

And Mo Yong-woo could roughly guess what it was.

“Woo-ya.”

“Speak.”

“When do you plan to meet the Tang girl?”

Awkwardness spread across Mo Yong-woo’s face.

“The Demon-Sweeping Corps is inaugurated in three days. Until then, I believe I should consider matters regarding my personal martial path and the management of my subordinates.”

“Yes. I don’t claim not to understand your feelings.”

A strange light shimmered in Mo Yonggun’s eyes.

“But since I’ve already reached an agreement with the Tang Clan Lord, I want you to meet her as soon as possible, if we can.”

After a brief silence, Mo Yong-woo nodded.

“Understood. Then I will meet her the day before the inauguration ceremony.”

Mo Yonggun smiled.

Mo Yong-woo did not speak lightly of what he could not do. If he said he would meet her, then he would meet her.

“Good. Let it be so.”

“I’m sorry. You suffered for no reason because of me.”

Mo Yonggun laughed boisterously.

“You brat—if you knew that, you should’ve shown your face earlier.”

“I’m sorry.”

“I’m teasing. Meet her, and if you truly don’t like her, tell me. It’s a match arranged with you and the clan in mind, but if the person himself hates it, I have no intention of forcing a bond.”

That was Mo Yonggun’s true heart.

The Tang Clan’s power was certainly tempting, but Mo Yonggun valued Mo Yong-woo more than the Tang Clan. Mo Yong-woo was his man—and even now, before he’d shown his full ability to the world, hadn’t he already achieved shocking growth?

Raising a trustworthy person was a hundred times better than taking an unbelievable power. That was why Mo Yonggun’s base remained unusually stable.

Mo Yong-woo changed the subject.

“Then when will the Evil-Smiting Corps return to the Alliance?”

Mo Yonggun’s gaze turned cold at once.

“I’m told they’ll arrive around noon tomorrow.”

“I see.”

“As I said before, the Evil-Smiting Corps earned a rather significant merit. I never imagined they would move that quickly—or that violently.”

Keeping his composure, Mo Yong-woo said,

“Before the Evil-Smiting Corps left the Alliance, I spoke directly with Commander Yeon the day before.”

“Yes. You told me you were quite surprised when you saw that Yeon Hojeong bastard.”

“That’s right. Not only was his martial art far beyond the level of his generation, he had an eye that was shocking. I believed he was a talent with drive to match that eye.”

“You’re right. It isn’t for nothing that I keep my attention on that young bastard.”

Mo Yong-woo smiled.

“When the Evil-Smiting Corps returns to the Alliance tomorrow, I will go meet him again.”

A hint of surprise crossed Mo Yonggun’s face.

“You’re going to meet Yeon Hojeong?”

“Yes.”

“And what do you plan to do after meeting him?”

“He’s a competitor, but if there’s something to learn, I should learn it. And I’m curious how much he has improved after going out into the world.”

“Huh.”

“Know the enemy and know yourself, and you will not be imperiled in a hundred battles. I don’t believe meeting him can be a bad thing.”

Mo Yonggun nodded.

“If you want to meet him, how could I stop you? But be careful. That one is the type who can shake an enemy thoroughly, once he decides you’re an enemy.”

“Don’t worry.”

Mo Yong-woo’s eyes glittered.

“I haven’t shown you proper results for these past months. At the Demon-Sweeping Corps inauguration ceremony, I’ll bring back at least one piece to offer—whether as tribute or as equipment.”

*****

“Oh! It’s the Alliance of the Martial World!”

“Wow—how long has it been!”

“...I never imagined I’d feel excited just seeing the Alliance.”

“Kh—tears are coming out, damn.”

After crossing the Mount Dabae range and finally entering the outskirts of the Alliance of the Martial World, the Evil-Smiting Corps soldiers’ faces were full of joy.

For months, they hadn’t properly rested as they swept through vicious dark-path gangs. It had been meaningful work, and they’d grown immensely because of it—but without noticing, mental fatigue had piled up.

Once they entered the Alliance, at the very least they would be able to sleep for five days straight. That was why their expressions were bright.

Mookbi whispered quietly.

“I guess the kids are really happy.”

Yeon Hojeong snorted a laugh.

“Of course. They’ve been fighting murderous enemies day after day, sleeping outdoors, not even able to wash properly.”

“Letting them relax is good, but if we have to tighten discipline again, it’ll be pretty hard.”

Yeon Hojeong looked at Mookbi as if surprised.

“That’s new.”

“What is?”

“Discipline... it just doesn’t sound like something you’d say.”

“Hmph. I live tense all the time, you know?”

“No, I know you do. It’s just—what’s surprising is you worrying about the soldiers’ mental state. You’re finally getting used to the deputy commander job?”

Mookbi smiled with satisfaction.

“If you don’t stay tense, you get hurt. And it’s not like I can just leave the Evil-Smiting Corps. It’s better to stay tense—even if it’s exhausting—than to get hurt and die.”

Yeon Hojeong’s smile deepened.

“You little punk. You’ve grown up.”

“I keep telling you, I’m older than you.”

“What does age matter? You haven’t even been out in the world that long.”

“Having more experience doesn’t automatically mean you do the job better.”

“So you can even get more mouthy from there. But you’re not wrong.”

Mookbi glanced at Yeon Hojeong’s hand.

“How’s your hand?”

“Huh?”

“It tore not long ago. You’re still wearing a bandage, so I guess it hasn’t healed yet.”

“It’s almost healed.”

“Recovery’s slower than I thought?”

Yeon Hojeong gave a bitter smile.

“Yeah. Tell me about it.”

His internal-injury recovery had been slow because he had less internal energy than he did in the days of the Dark Emperor.

But the slow healing of the cut on his palm was because his body had reached its limit. A different problem entirely.

I slept an absurdly small amount.

The Jade Wave True Formula was an excellent martial art. The Four Spirit Arts were not even satisfied by being called a world-shaking divine art.

But Yeon Hojeong, who practiced them, was still a human being. Unless he reached the absolute peak and transcended human limits, if he lived without rest—without even proper sleep—then of course his body would rot from the inside out.

Mookbi sighed.

“When we get back, sleep hard. The Alliance is safe.”

“That’s embarrassing.”

“What’s embarrassing about it? Honestly, I’m more surprised. I didn’t know you’d care about the soldiers that much.”

Yeon Hojeong scratched the back of his head.

“I didn’t know I’d be like this either.”

When he handled dark-path warriors, he’d been like a blade.

He’d never trained anything like the Evil-Smiting Corps. He gathered forces and went straight to war, and he thought deaths along the way couldn’t be helped.

It had been a cold and brutal way to live. Life in the dark path—an extreme world of violence—had sharpened Yeon Hojeong into something vicious.

But after regression, his mind had changed into something far more stable.

And Yeon Hojeong could tell that family sat at the center of that positive change.

Positive... yeah. If I’m going to live like a human being, then this change is definitely positive.

Yeon Hojeong’s eyes, raised to the clear sky, sank frighteningly deep.

Should I defend against their invasion as a human being, or...

Should he become the monster he’d been back then.

Just then, Je Gal Ahyeon spoke.

“Big sis.”

“Yes?”

“Hehe. We’re not in public right now.”

“Ah...”

Mookbi was flustered. Je Gal Ahyeon’s familiar address still weighed on her.

“What are you going to do once we’re inside? Are you going to rest hard today?”

“I-I was thinking that...”

“If you’re not too tired, want to have a drink with me?”

“Drink?”

Mookbi’s face paled slightly.

After suffering a brutal hangover last time, she’d been avoiding alcohol. She could drive it out with internal energy, sure—but the feeling itself, the headache and the dull heaviness in her body, was unpleasant.

But seeing Je Gal Ahyeon staring at her with shining eyes, she couldn’t bring herself to refuse.

“...If it’s only a moderate amount.”

“Muahaha! Great! I’ll greet my father and go right away! You have to drink!”

“Mm.”

Grinning, Je Gal Ahyeon looked at Yeon Hojeong.

Yeon Hojeong was blinking—wearing an absurdly innocent face.

Je Gal Ahyeon’s expression instantly turned flat.

“What? You drinking too?”

“Are you out of your mind? Do you know what’ll happen to me if I drink with you two?”

“You bastard.”

“It’s a public place.”

“It’s private, you idiot!”

Yeon Hojeong decided that on the day they reassembled, he ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) would reestablish the Evil-Smiting Corps’ discipline first—strictly.

Paeng Manho sidled up next to Yeon Hojeong.

“Then with me—”

“Go sleep.”

“Come on. One drink, big brother.”

“Don’t call me big brother, you little shit!”

It was a noisy Return to the Alliance. They pretended otherwise, but Mookbi, Je Gal Ahyeon, and Paeng Manho all seemed quietly excited by the first real rest in a long time.

Laughing and bickering like that, they walked—and before they knew it, they’d reached the Alliance’s outer fortress.

“Commander of the Evil-Smiting Corps, Yeon Hojeong. Is that you?”

Yeon Hojeong turned his head.

Beside the Blue Dragon Great Gate, a middle-aged man with a cold, impassive face stood waiting.