Black and White Martial Emperor

“Total strength: five hundred. Casualties: one hundred twenty.”

“....”

“Of those, seventy are dead. The rest are seriously or critically wounded.”

A shadow fell over Mo Yong-woo’s face as he listened to the report.

Seventy...

He’d assumed there would be casualties.

The enemy were strongmen who’d built their power for ten years on the stage beyond the frontier. They might have been horse bandits, but their strength exceeded that of an ordinary sect.

Of course casualties were inevitable.

But he hadn’t expected seventy deaths.

I was sloppy.

Yes.

Sloppy.

His eye hadn’t been bad. It wasn’t some brilliant strategy, but he’d shown reasonably efficient handling.

But he’d missed timing.

He had the eye to watch the enemy’s reactions—but he realized things too late. And his own men’s response to issued orders had been too slow.

He’d kept control of his hundred-man leaders and soldiers, but that was all.

It’s all my fault.

If he’d had more time to train them.

If he’d worked harder and forged the entire Demon-Sweeping Corps into a perfect single body, they wouldn’t have taken losses like this.

Every soldier in the Demon-Sweeping Corps was a martial-world expert who’d built up serious experience on their own. But they’d never had experience uniting and annihilating an enemy as a cohesive force.

He still thought they could handle it.

He’d told them to be careful—again and again—but Mo Yong-woo had also underestimated the enemy.

It was a bitter mistake.

Forming tighter formations or shoring up offense and defense is a secondary problem. First, I need to sharpen my own eye for the larger board. And the soldiers have to learn to react the instant an order drops. That comes first.

In truth, that was why—after the founding ceremony—he’d focused on building bonds between them instead of drilling only offense-and-defense training. If he hadn’t even done that, the damage would have been far worse.

Still, regret was regret.

“Go to the Beggars’ Union branch and ask around for skilled Therapists. Let the wounded rest in the merchant group’s temporary quarters, and have the rest clear the building debris.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“And Hundred-Man Leader Jin.”

“Yes, Commander.”

“You did well.”

Jin Pae shook his head.

“Even if we haven’t been formed long, I also failed to properly manage my men. The high casualties are largely the hundred-man leaders’ fault.”

“Don’t think that way. You did what you could.”

“...”

“Get stronger.”

“Of course.”

Jin Pae bowed and left the room.

Mo Yong-woo let out a sigh.

“To think leading people could be this difficult.”

Leading itself wasn’t the problem. He had a rare talent for handling crowds.

The problem was his heart.

My people died because of my inadequacy.

He hadn’t been unprepared for it.

But the deaths of subordinates hit harder than he’d expected.

In the end, it means I’m still lacking experience.

Mo Yong-woo closed his eyes.

But even if I build experience... will I ever be able to stay composed in front of my people’s deaths?

That was when—

“What are you doing?”

“Hk!”

Mo Yong-woo flinched and looked toward the door.

Yeon Hojeong stood there.

“When did you get here?”

“Just now. I called you a few times and you didn’t answer, so I came in to see if something was wrong.”

“Ah...”

“Your face tells me enough. Why you’re sitting here like you’ve lost your soul.”

Mo Yong-woo gave a bitter smile.

“It happened because of my mistake.”

Yeon Hojeong nodded, coldly.

“Yeah. It’s your fault.”

Mo Yong-woo’s eyes widened.

“W-What did you just say?”

“I said it’s your fault. No matter the reason, if your subordinates die, it’s the one on top’s fault.”

A puzzled look surfaced on Yeon Hojeong’s face.

“I thought you’d understand something that obvious?”

“Of course I do. But what surprised me was...”

“Huh?”

Mo Yong-woo felt a pointless cough rising.

“You’re finally calling me ‘older brother.’”

Yeon Hojeong frowned.

“You asked me to.”

“I did.”

“Why? Now that you’re hearing it, does it make you squirm? Want me to take it back?”

“No.”

The answer had a frightening firmness to it. It was like he was obsessed with the word “older brother.”

Yeon Hojeong snorted.

“You’re hard to understand.”

Mo Yong-woo scratched his cheek.

“I don’t have a younger brother.”

Of course, that wasn’t the only reason.

He’d lived a lonely life for a long time. He had Lee Geon, someone he could call “his,” but Lee Geon served him as a lord—he didn’t stand beside him like a brother.

That was why Mo Yong-woo wanted a comfortable, brotherly relationship with Yeon Hojeong. They were moving toward the same goal, and if they could also genuinely care for each other, that wasn’t a bad thing.

“Anyway, this isn’t something you can just ‘steel yourself’ and get over. Time will handle it, so don’t force yourself.”

Mo Yong-woo stared at Yeon Hojeong for a moment, then tossed out a question.

“Have you had that experience too?”

“Hm?”

“Losing your people. Your subordinates.”

Yeon Hojeong nodded.

“Of course.”

He’d lost more people than he could count. He’d even lost the closest person to him—someone who’d felt like a real brother.

He’d seen family die too.

If that counted as “experience,” Yeon Hojeong had built up a vicious amount of it.

“People say it’s a peaceful era. But I don’t think so. In the world of the martial arts, real peace has never come even once. Not now, either.”

“Why do you think that?”

“Because people with power ordinary men can’t even imagine roam the world. On the surface it can look peaceful, but in reality it can’t be.”

A chill settled over Yeon Hojeong’s blank face.

“The world always plants seeds on the screams of the powerless. There can be peace for an individual—but peace for everyone can’t exist.”

A flustered look appeared on Mo Yong-woo’s face.

“Then... does that mean ‘chivalry’ has no meaning?”

“It has meaning. You can’t fundamentally change the world, but you can at least throw one bucket of water on the hellfire burning right in front of your eyes.”

Yeon Hojeong smiled.

It was a smile laced with bitterness.

“Black and white. Good and evil. Life and death. We’re just idiots running without knowing anything, inside a wheel that spins and spins.”

It was a deeply world-weary thing to say.

Mo Yong-woo asked,

“So that’s why?”

“Why what?”

“The Gray Wolf Band. Is that why you slaughtered them?”

Yeon Hojeong answered, indifferent.

“We came to slaughter them anyway.”

“Of course. But they surrendered. When men surrender because their will has broken, it’s hard to say it’s right to kill them that coldly.”

“Then why didn’t you stop me?”

Mo Yong-woo sighed.

“I don’t know... Maybe I also thought we couldn’t let them live.”

It was an honest confession.

Yeon Hojeong sat on the table.

“Before, a soldier in the main force told me this. They said the enemy were evil, sure—but did there really have to be a reason to kill them that horribly?”

“And what did you answer?”

“Death is fair to everyone. So evil men should die in as much pain as possible.”

“...!”

“I don’t have the right to decide that? Of course I don’t. I just move by my own thinking. If there are people who want to reform someone who deserves death, then there are also people like me—who think you should kill them the moment you see them.”

“That sounds like... a painful road, in its own way.”

“At first, yeah. But now it feels good.”

Mo Yong-woo’s face hardened.

“Even an evil man is still a man. You can’t feel good about that.”

“I don’t see evil men as people.”

“...”

“So it feels good.”

Mo Yong-woo let out a dry laugh.

“So I’ve ended up with a younger brother I can barely handle.”

“That’s why you should choose people carefully.”

Yeon Hojeong smiled.

“Whether you live as the Demon-Sweeping Corps commander, or as Mo Yong Clan Lord—or as the Alliance Leader—you’ll have experiences like this countless times. Steel your heart ahead of time.”

“Brother. I...”

“I know. You don’t intend to become Alliance Leader.”

“...”

“Changing your mind is my job too. I’m going to keep persuading you, so prepare yourself for that too.”

Mo Yong-woo snorted a laugh and perched on the window frame.

“Hey, brother.”

“Say it.”

“Since we’re on the topic, I’ll ask. Why do you want to make me Alliance Leader?”

“Because of what you’re showing right now.”

“Hm?”

“Because you hurt over your people’s deaths and mock yourself—but you also naturally hold the resolve to not let it happen again.”

“...”

“Someone who can separate the sorrow of reality from the resolve for the future. Someone who still keeps a good nature.”

Yeon Hojeong smiled softly.

“There’s no one better suited to be Alliance Leader.”

Mo Yong-woo cleared his throat.

“I’m embarrassed. I’m not the kind of great person you’re talking about.”

“Don’t get it twisted. I’m not praising you like you’re special. You think there’s no one else like you in this wide world?”

“...Ahem. Then I’m even more curious. It doesn’t have to be me.”

“It still has to be you.”

“Then the reason—”

“So we can bring Mo Yonggun down.”

Mo Yong-woo’s face hardened.

Yeon Hojeong smirked.

“I’m kidding. I’m the real one facing Mo Yonggun, not you, right?”

“...Is that so.”

“There are plenty of kind people, and plenty of capable people. There are even people who are both kind and capable. Still, the reason I think you’re Alliance Leader material is...”

“The reason?”

Yeon Hojeong went silent for a moment.

When he looked at Mo Yong-woo, his gaze was clear—and deep.

“It’s just instinct.”

“What kind of answer is that?”

“This kind.”

Yeon Hojeong slid down from the table.

“Whether you become Clan Lord or Alliance Leader, what matters is constantly shaping yourself. Let’s keep working hard from here.”

Mo Yong-woo smiled.

“Do you °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° know this?”

“What?”

“You’re a truly dependable younger brother.”

Yeon Hojeong shook his head.

“Being a support when things are hard isn’t difficult. Just don’t break.”

“I can’t show you something that pathetic.”

“So you do know it’s shameful.”

Yeon Hojeong turned for the door.

“Where are you going?”

“Basarek.”

Gray Wolf Band Lord Basarek wasn’t dead yet. His legs were gone and his body was full of injuries, but thanks to vitality beyond imagination, he was still breathing.

Yeon Hojeong had deliberately kept him alive.

Mo Yong-woo asked,

“Is there something you can get from him?”

Yeon Hojeong paused.

“The Gray Wolf Band is the number one horse bandit group beyond the frontier. You said they’ve been rampaging across Tibet, Qinghai, and Gansu for the last ten years, right?”

“Right.”

“And they’ve almost never entered the Central Plains?”

“That’s what I heard. Even if they did, they moved very carefully. And it makes sense—most of the Nine Great Sects are concentrated in the north of the Central Plains.”

“But this time they made it big. Shandong might not have a sect worth mentioning, but even so—trying to bring down the Sea Dragon Merchant Group.”

Mo Yong-woo’s eyes sharpened.

He’d only thought about defeating them. He’d never seriously considered what the enemy’s intent was.

“Then your thought is...?”

“It means they have a backer worth trusting. At least, that’s what I think.”

“If it’s a backer worth trusting... are you saying the Gray Wolf Band is colluding with someone from the Central Plains?”

“Or.”

The clear depth in Yeon Hojeong’s eyes turned into something monstrous—Killing Intent surging up, horrid and thick.

“Somewhere beyond the frontier... they might’ve found people who’ve started backing them.”