Black and White Martial Emperor

Whooom. CHAAANG!

A cutting-blue sword wind split a boulder in half.

Only when he saw the sheared face did a look of satisfaction finally touch Mo Yonggun’s face.

“Now it’s worth a look.”

The cut surface was eerily smooth. If you dropped water on it, it would slip without scattering in the least.

‘At this rate I can bring it forward by a few years.’

The Mo Yong Clan has many ultimate techniques.

The sword is the main arm, yes, but the clan had amassed countless arts no less formidable. In fact, only half of the clan lords through history had been swordsmen.

Even so, like the Ming Clan, Mo Yong too had a supreme art their forebears had hidden away.

An absolute sword art no one had ever mastered to great perfection. The clan lord of two generations past discovered it, the previous lord finished the exegesis, and the present lord—Mo Yonggun—was training it.

Heartless Heavenly Thunder Form.

An invincible sword art wielded by harnessing an archaic divine skill called Thunderbolt Skill. Its menace and might defied words; just reading the mnemonic sent a clammy chill down your back.

With this art—

With a technique this high in order, he could soon reach the realm of the Saintly Heaven Thirteen Seats. Give or take, ten years at most.

“Hoo. It devours inner force by the bucket, though. I’ll have to raise the density of energy...”

Mo Yonggun stood looking down at the split rock and sank into thought.

Someone broke in on that thinking.

“Clan Lord.”

Mo Yonggun’s brows creased.

It was an important moment. Of all times, he didn’t want interruption now.

‘No help for it.’

Once focus is broken, it doesn’t return. Mo Yonggun answered in a calm voice.

“What is it?”

“A letter has arrived by express from the Beggars’ Union.”

Mo Yonggun’s eyes flashed.

‘The Beggars’ Union?!’

What business would the Beggars’ Union have sending a letter to him?

‘There is one.’

There was.

It had to be about the Yeon Clan. If not that, there was no reason for an express letter from the Beggars’ Union in times like these.

‘So it was the Beggars’ Union helping the Yeon Clan.’

Just the fact it came express let him be sure. He almost felt he didn’t need to read it.

‘Hah. In that case, the schedule will have to move up.’

Mo Yonggun clicked his tongue inwardly.

‘He’d have done better not to write. Clan Lord Yeon—you’ve only hastened your death for nothing.’

Still, a letter had come; he had to read it.

“Give it here.”

“Yes.”

Mo Yonggun opened the letter.

His heart had been all calm.

The further he read, the more that calm heart raised waves.

Pabababak!

Sword scars bloomed all around his feet where he stood.

Ziiiing. Ziiiing.

Sickly-yellow lightning light flickered on and off along his body.

It was Thunderbolt Qi manifesting unconsciously. Which meant the shock to Mo Yonggun was that great.

“...This is...?”

His face remained stony, but he was badly shaken.

The letter said many things.

The problem was that each point was staggering. Even Mo Yonggun, who barely blinked at anything, snapped to attention.

He read the name signed at the end.

“Yeon Hojeong?!”

Shocking.

Given the contents, he’d thought “no way” several times—but he hadn’t imagined it would be from the Yeon Clan’s First Young Master, not the Clan Lord.

Steadying his pounding chest, he chewed over the letter line by line.

The spy you so kindly sent over—I chewed him up fine. If you were going to send them, you should at least have popped a poison pellet in their mouths. What confidence did you have, to send them clean? If you plan to send more, send ones who can keep their mouths shut.

Ominous.

He’d expected they might catch a spy. What snagged him was what came next.

Send ones who can keep their mouths shut? What in heaven’s name had they said?

However urgent, you sent the entire Ming Clan intelligence unit. Of course, it doesn’t look like the Clan Lord himself asked for that precisely. But tell me—what were you so rushed to confirm through me?

From here on—this is where Mo Yonggun realized something had gone wrong.

‘He knows we joined hands with the Ming Clan? How?’

They hadn’t told even the spies that. Naturally—they wanted as few as possible to know that part.

Then where did this brat hear it? How did he know?

How could he be this sure?

And then—this was the kicker.

Come to think, Clan Lord—your greed seems a touch excessive. Burying the Yeon Clan is one thing, but it seems you mean to bury the Ming Clan as well. Greatest Under Heaven is a given, but do you also plan to be Alliance Lord?

Rip.

His thumb tightened without his knowing. The edge of the sheet under his thumb tore a little.

Greatest Under Heaven. Alliance Lord.

He couldn’t let that pass—because in truth, that was his dream, his goal.

Of course, anyone could set such a goal. The issue was that, to run for the peak, he’d been laying out all manner of strategies for years.

It was as if the letter said:

It’s all out, my good man.

Well then. For the sake of a dream, not sparing means—this I respect. I am that kind of man as well. So let me make you an offer.

Not yet of age, I hear. And yet such a tone to a senior of nearly fifty—an arrogant brat, no?

But Mo Yonggun barely cared about the tone. The contents were far more shocking.

You sent spies—I understand. But the ones sharpening knives in truth are not the same. I have no intention of forgiving the Ming Clan. From the look of it, you have a decisive move; since we’ve come this far, let’s bury the Ming Clan together.

Bury the Ming Clan.

A single line—provocative, and electric.

Never mind Yeon Hojeong’s cheek—the jolt of that single line was immense. For one aiming at Greatest Under Heaven, the Ming Clan was the biggest obstacle.

So much so that he’d thought to bury them with evil rumor rather than force. It was the best option strategically—but if he’d had the strength, he wouldn’t have bothered with such a strategy.

Which is why Yeon Hojeong’s letter, as shocking as it was, was also seductive.

Let’s inter the Ming Clan. Blow away the current Greatest Under Heaven.

Frankly, even I don’t think you’ll trust me on ❖ Nоvеl𝚒ght ❖ (Exclusive on Nоvеl𝚒ght) the strength of one letter. Likewise, I can’t put absolute trust in you. So I’m sending this express. The sooner we meet, the better.

Apart from anything else, the boy was remarkable.

He worked a man up and down with a letter. If he didn’t know the sender, he would have mistaken him for some old veteran who’d rolled through the rivers and lakes.

Saying to meet face-to-face suggested he had confidence as well. It might well be the real Yeon Hojeong, not an impersonator.

Come to Henan. I’ll be piling up bad karma against the Ming Clan. With your reputation for stratagem, I trust you know a delayed decision harms everyone.

Mo Yonggun closed his eyes.

‘Pile up bad karma against the Ming Clan...’

Pile up bad karma against the Ming Clan.

With that single phrase, he decided to raise, sharply, his internal appraisal of Yeon Hojeong, above the gossip the world carried.

‘What a creature.’

How long had it been, since a junior made him admire someone this much?

He hadn’t admired even his daughter this much. She’d been commendable, yes, but she’d never truly startled her father.

If he had to name anyone, perhaps his youngest half-brother, Mo Yongwu. But Mo Yongwu was someone to be watched, not a youth whose abilities could be weighed at equal height.

‘Clan Lord Yeon... astonishing. With that unbending face, when did you raise such a monster?’

To someone else, it might be “just” a letter.

But Mo Yonggun read countless things between these lines. Hence the high valuation of Yeon Hojeong.

‘So the Clan Lord Yeon isn’t to be taken lightly either? Hah! The world is rich with men.’

Mo Yonggun couldn’t help a faint smile.

Having many worthy opponents is tiresome—and thrilling. He even wondered whether the rumors about the Clan Lord Yeon might not be true.

“Call the Chief Steward and Yeonhwa.”

A short while later, Mo Yong Yeonhwa and Neung Jikso appeared.

Smiling, Mo Yonggun handed them the letter.

“A letter from that fellow, Yeon Hojeong. Read it.”

They read.

Moments later, both faces hardened plainly.

“How...?!”

Neung Jikso said, at a loss:

“How did the Yeon Clan’s First Young Master know this?!”

He was muttering to himself without realizing it. For him, that was unthinkable—proof of how great the shock was.

Mo Yong Yeonhwa, on the other hand, said nothing. Judging by her grave expression, she was thinking through something deeply.

Mo Yonggun asked:

“Yeonhwa—your view?”

“Before mine, there’s a question I want to ask Father. I don’t think I can speak to my view until I have the answer.”

“Ask anytime.”

“What are the odds it’s a trap?”

Mo Yonggun cut clean:

“Zero.”

“I thought as much.”

“Did you think differently?”

“Either zero—or a certain trap. Weighing any middle percentage is meaningless.”

Mo Yonggun smiled.

“Then—your view?”

“Go.”

Neung Jikso looked at Mo Yong Yeonhwa in surprise.

She smiled.

“Judging by the fact you called us, you’d already made up your mind, hadn’t you?”

“Heh-heh.”

“This script—there’s not a tremor in the brush. Is it overconfidence? Arrogance? It’s neither. Woven into the lines is a will that even if this pact falls through, it doesn’t matter.”

“Well seen.”

Mo Yonggun clasped his hands behind him.

“That boy plainly holds a card to play against our main house. The spy affair alone shows as much. With the Beggars’ Union aiding, if he decides to blow it open, even our house would take a hit.”

“It won’t shake us. It will leave a scar.”

“Our house must ascend to the apex of the martial world. There’s no reason to court risk. Not yet.”

“True. Ah—there’s one thing that sticks.”

“What?”

Mo Yong Yeonhwa knit her brows.

‘Pile up bad karma against the Ming Clan’... what does he mean by that?”

Light sparked in Mo Yonggun’s eyes.

‘Not quite there yet.’

Even as she was now, she was impressive. Judging by her rate of growth, his daughter would catch his stratagem within five years.

‘Does that mean this Yeon Hojeong already stands where I do?’

No telling. He might have a hidden aide at his side.

One way or another, it had been a long time since he’d been this shocked—and this intrigued.

People said Mo Yonggun was a man hard to see face-to-face.

Not so. He wasn’t a man who sat the clan lord’s seat and only sent for underlings. If needed, he had the drive and breadth to cross ten thousand li himself.

That drive and breadth were about to be exercised—for the first time in ages.

“Henan... a fair distance for a jaunt.”

****

“Today makes three days.”

“I see.”

“The Ming Clan will start to suspect.”

“They will.”

“...Are you truly going alone?”

“My cultivation is in a transitional phase. I consider it a good chance.”

“Where does that baseless confidence come from?”

“Experience.”

“You’re young to be talking like that.”

“Keep your eye on the Shadow-Death Division.”

“Don’t worry. They won’t escape if they die and come back. Hah! Come to think, I’m a criminal now. Abduction, unlawful detention—what’s the difference, really?”

Thud.

Yeon Hojeong rose.

“I’ll be going.”

“Young Master Yeon.”

“Speak.”

Looking at him with trembling eyes, Ga Deoksang cupped his fists in salute with crisp form.

“Please—be careful.”

“You too.”

Clack!

Yeon Hojeong opened the door and stepped out into the world.

The tendons on the hand gripping his axe writhed thickly.

“Which one will come first?”

It was the first step in the Plan to Annihilate the Ming Clan.