Black and White Martial Emperor

The woman was beautiful.

She was already nearing thirty, yet her cool, clear eyes still held a young girl’s innocence.

Her figure was slender overall, and with tasteful clothes draped over her ❀ Nоvеlігht ❀ (Don’t copy, read here) frame, she looked overwhelmingly attractive. A woman whose aura—hot as fire and cold as a blizzard—blended in a way that was astonishingly harmonious.

The world revered her, calling her the Phoenix of Sichuan, the Dark-Heaven Divine Maiden.

“So. Did you meet him yesterday?”

It was a voice colored with coldness and resolve. Like father, like daughter—perhaps her atmosphere, too, had been inherited from her father’s particular temperament.

At Dang Gwan’s stiff question, Tang Sang-a smiled and answered.

“Yes.”

“And?”

“It’s hard to define him in a single sentence.”

Dang Gwan nodded.

Hard to define? It wasn’t easy to grasp what that meant. To begin with, he didn’t place much weight on that line.

What mattered wasn’t how she saw him. What mattered was whether the marriage would happen or not.

“They’ll give us their answer soon. Wait quietly.”

“Yes.”

“And if they refuse the match, then aside from that, another—”

“Father.”

“Speak.”

Tang Sang-a smiled. A transparent smile with no sincerity in it.

“I want to be alone.”

Dang Gwan’s eyes deepened.

After staring at his daughter for a long moment, Dang Gwan rose from his seat.

“Even if it isn’t the martial path, there will be a road that lets you be happy.”

With those words, Dang Gwan left the room.

The instant the door shut, Tang Sang-a stretched with all her might.

“Nnnnngh! Ah, I’m tired.”

Resting her chin on her hand, she looked out the window.

“Hm. The weather’s really nice.”

Her eyes sparkled.

She had lived almost her entire life in Sichuan. This was her first time not only in Henan, but even in the Mount Dabae Range itself.

Was that why? Even though she’d been inside the Alliance for months, her heart still fluttered as if she’d just arrived. And the atmosphere of Mount Dabae—showing her a different face with each distinct season—stirred her excitement.

“What should I do for fun today?”

Even with her father’s pressure, even in a situation where she might have to marry at any moment, she didn’t lose her enjoyment.

To her, what mattered was how she enjoyed the moment right now. Time that had flowed past never returned, so she believed each day had to be spent with exhilaration.

That way, she wouldn’t regret it.

Even if she ended up living a life she didn’t want, she could live with memories as her companion.

‘Huh?’

As she took in the scenery with a refreshed mood, someone far in the distance entered Tang Sang-a’s view.

‘That person is...?’

A strange look surfaced on her face.

‘Why is he there at this hour? He should be busy with the inauguration ceremony.’

It was Mo Yong-woo. The head of the Demon-Sweeping Corps within the Demon-Sweeping & Evil-Smiting Field Forces—and the very person who was supposed to be the centerpiece of the inauguration ceremony to be held in front of the Hall of the Martial Sage at noon today.

And... perhaps the man who might become her husband.

‘Interesting.’

All she’d done with Mo Yong-woo was share a cup of tea and exchange a short conversation.

You couldn’t read a person from that alone. You could guess at tendencies, sure, but it was far too little time to know someone in full.

Of course, Tang Sang-a had no intention of learning anything about Mo Yong-woo. Not because it was him—she simply had no interest in anyone to begin with.

As the daughter of the Tang Clan, she had accepted early the cruel destiny imposed on women of the family.

It didn’t matter who it was. As long as he had all four limbs and a decent personality, that was enough.

‘...Hmmm.’

Still, she could feel curiosity at unexpected words and actions from the other party. You could call it pure curiosity.

And right now, she was curious about Mo Yong-woo.

As a hidden-weapons master, her Eye Technique—trained to the extreme—pierced through every minute twitch of Mo Yong-woo’s expression.

‘He looks incredibly unsettled. It can’t be because of me.’

Mo Yong-woo was a good man. But like her, he seemed to feel no particular emotion toward the other party.

So it didn’t seem like it was because of her...

‘Well. I’ve got nothing to do anyway.’

She got a feeling.

Maybe it wouldn’t be “fun,” but at the very least, she felt like she was about to witness something that would spark her interest.

WOOOOOM!

The moment it seemed a red aura was spreading out from Tang Sang-a’s body—

SHK.

Before anyone could even register it, her body shot out through the window.

*****

“Haah. What a pain.”

Over his clean white clothes, he wore a fine-quality long robe.

The fabric was so soft it felt wrong. Most people would praise it in unison as luxurious, but to Yeon Hojeong, it felt cumbersome.

“Clothes really do make the man.”

“Do I look okay?”

“You should dress like that all the time.”

Yeon Hojeong looked at Mookbi.

“You’re not bad yourself.”

Yeon Hojeong was Yeon Hojeong, but Mookbi—in her archery garb—was flaunting a beauty that was, frankly, overwhelming.

She wasn’t wearing makeup, but that only brought out her pure charm even more. Hair neatly combed back, a firm figure honed by archery and movement arts—she was alluring enough to catch any man’s gaze.

Yet Mookbi’s face was full of dissatisfaction.

“What is this?”

“What’s what? You look pretty.”

“It’s hard to move. If I wear clothes like this, the speed of Dragon Flies Instant Step is going to drop.”

Yeon Hojeong clicked his tongue.

“Just endure it a little. As soon as the inauguration ceremony ends, you can change.”

“Haah.”

Mookbi kept sighing.

Then, something occurred to Yeon Hojeong, and he turned his head.

“Hey!”

“Yes? Ah—yes!”

“Aren’t you changing clothes?”

Okcheong scratched the back of his head with an awkward face.

“Shouldn’t a Daoist pursue serenity in poverty and delight in the Way?”

“Do that on a normal day. It’s an inauguration ceremony, so at least—hey! No, but you—why have you been waddling around here since yesterday?”

That was right.

After Daoist Seunghyeon left, Okcheong came back. And without saying much, he loitered inside the Army-Breaking Pavilion, watching Yeon Hojeong’s face.

That was it. He didn’t start a conversation. He didn’t ask for a spar. He just stayed like that.

Okcheong cleared his throat.

“It just feels like the energy around the Army-Breaking Pavilion is good.”

“Does Wudang teach you to lie like a dog, too?”

“That’s a bit harsh.”

“Shut up! Go change and get to the Hall of the Martial Sage! We’ve only got half a watch left.”

“I’ll just go like this.”

Yeon Hojeong silently raised his fist.

Okcheong’s expression turned instantly servile.

“...Right. There’s also the matter of dignity you have to show outside. I’ll see you later.”

PAH!

Okcheong vanished at a terrifying speed. Maybe his internal injury really was fully healed—his movement art was faster than it had ever been.

Yeon Hojeong let out a sigh.

“There isn’t a normal person around. Not a single normal person.”

He glanced at Mookbi.

Mookbi was staring straight at him. Her eyes held a strangely subtle meaning: And you’re normal?

“Turn your head before I poke your eyes out.”

“My goodness.”

“What? What!”

“Whatever. Seriously—now that you’re strong, you’re just bullying people.”

“You say that like I didn’t bully you before.”

“I’ve got nothing to say. Seriously.”

Yeon Hojeong chuckled.

That was when it happened.

“Huh?”

Yeon Hojeong turned his head toward the front gate of the Army-Breaking Pavilion.

‘What is it?’

One familiar presence was approaching at high speed.

Another genius whose martial realm had surged steeply while he wasn’t looking. Growing so fast that he couldn’t fully rein in his energy—making his presence stand out all the more vividly.

A moment later—

“May I come in?”

Yeon Hojeong personally opened the gate.

Mo Yong-woo stood there.

“What brings you here?”

“I need to talk.”

After looking at Mo Yong-woo for a beat, Yeon Hojeong turned around.

“To my room.”

The three of them went up to Yeon Hojeong’s room on the second floor.

Mo Yong-woo spoke bluntly.

“The inauguration ceremony was canceled.”

“What?”

Not only Yeon Hojeong—Mookbi was startled, too.

“Canceled? What does that mean?”

“Strictly speaking...”

Mo Yong-woo couldn’t easily continue.

Yeon Hojeong’s eyes narrowed.

“They told the Evil-Smiting Corps not to come?”

“...They did.”

“Hm.”

That one answer was enough to understand how the board was turning.

Leaning back in his chair, Yeon Hojeong let out a small laugh.

“Mo Yonggun pulled something again.”

Mo Yong-woo sighed quietly.

“I told him he didn’t need to do it, but he opposed it to the end.”

The reason was none other than Yeon Hojeong.

The man who had displayed a fierce spar with Yeon Wi at the training grounds in the inner fortress plaza.

If it had ended there, maybe. But he had even broken through the Martial End Wall in front of everyone.

Not just the Alliance—the entire world would be shocked. Yeon Hojeong might think he still had a long way to go, but someone who had just barely come of age reaching the martial path of Transcendent Peak was never common.

A monster of talent who had soared far beyond even the young geniuses representing the martial world today—beyond even One Dragon, Three Phoenixes.

“So he thought I might become the centerpiece of the ceremony.”

“That’s right.”

Yeon Hojeong smiled like he couldn’t help it.

“Well, you could call it petty if you want, but it’s definitely necessary. I understand Mo Yonggun.”

“I’m ashamed.”

“Why? There’s nothing to be ashamed about. It’s fine.”

He seemed genuinely fine. There wasn’t a hint of resentment on Yeon Hojeong’s face.

Seeing that expression, at least, made Mo Yong-woo feel relieved.

With a small smile, Mo Yong-woo complained half-jokingly.

“Then why did you spar in front of everyone? There’s a saying in the martial world—hide thirty percent of your strength.”

“Hm?”

“Didn’t it only make my older brother more wary of you?”

Yeon Hojeong snorted.

“Bullshit. He was a man dying to swallow me whole from the start. We’re already in a kill-or-be-killed relationship—what does it matter if he gets even more wary?”

“Of course, that’s true, but...”

“Remember this, too. Just because you’re fighting a shadow war doesn’t mean you have to hide yourself more than necessary. If you obsess over even that, there’ll come a day you get worn out. And if you get hit with a counterstrike then, it’s even more fatal.”

“Is that so?”

“If you’ve got cards you hide, you need cards you show openly, too. And I have no intention of hiding my full strength from the enemy. I was like that before, and I’ll be like that going forward.”

What mattered was the enemy’s nature—and how the situation flowed.

Even if Yeon Hojeong had become a Transcendent Peak master, he couldn’t handle an entire faction alone. In a faction war, it meant he hadn’t gained anything tangible.

If he had reached the realm of the Thirteen Seats of the Sacred Heavens, maybe it would be different—but at this level, he couldn’t decisively affect the bigger picture.

If there had been a real chance the situation would worsen, Yeon Hojeong would have been the first to abandon it, even if it meant disappointing his father.

Mo Yong-woo smiled.

“You really are impressive in every way.”

“Now you’re saying that?”

“Hahaha!”

He had come to deliver a serious matter, but once he started talking to Yeon Hojeong, the weight in his chest loosened.

Mo Yong-woo asked casually.

“Still, it’s incredible. I’ve always thought I was born with decent martial talent, but compared to you, little brother, I’m not even worth mentioning...”

At that moment, Yeon Hojeong spoke.

“Little brother? You have a little brother?”

What kind of aggrieved nonsense was this now?

Mo Yong-woo, who had been about to tease him—You told me to meet her confidently; I came here confidently—suddenly flashed his eyes.

Yeon Hojeong’s hand, resting on the armrest of his chair, was pointing at the ceiling.

WOOOOOM.

In an instant, Heaven-and-Earth true qi rose razor-sharp, honing all five senses like blades.

‘A person?’

Someone was there. And an astonishing master, at that.

“...I’m younger in years, so ‘little brother’ fits. Doesn’t it?”

“Wrong. I have no intention of forming ties with anyone from the Mo Yong Clan. Not ever.”

“Haha. That’s a bit hurtful.”

Mo Yong-woo shook his head.

“Anyway.”

“Speak.”

“You... keep a cat?”

Yeon Hojeong bared a grin.

“I thought it was your cat.”

“I see.”

Mo Yong-woo smiled brightly.

“Then let’s find out whose cat it is.”

“Mookbi.”

In that instant, Mookbi’s bowstring tension slammed into the ceiling.

KWAANG!

The ceiling shattered, and a figure revealed herself, looking utterly caught off guard.

It was Tang Sang-a.