Black and White Martial Emperor

The Tang Clan of Sichuan.

A singular martial house famed across the Central Plains for its mastery of poisons and hidden weapons.

Given the orthodox world’s devotion to upright justice and morality, poison and hidden weapons were hard to accept—tools made for assassination rather than honorable head-on combat.

The first house to shatter that prejudice was the Tang Clan. Like their chosen tools, they were acrid and cold-blooded, yet they did not cross the minimal line.

Of course, from Yeon Hojeong’s standpoint, such history wasn’t his concern.

Without realizing it, he rubbed the pit of his stomach.

It was still vivid—the sickening sensation of the Cowhair Needle lodged in his chest as he lay dying.

Tang Kwan.

Deputy Alliance Lord of the Alliance of the Martial World.

The snake-and-scorpion who shoved his body, already drifting toward the River of Three Crossings, the rest of the way into the underworld.

Flinch.

His grip tightened unconsciously around the iron staff.

The Dark Emperor’s instinct—the one that never forgets a grudge—was waking.

“......”

Hojeong steadied his mind.

The man before him was not Tang Kwan. And even if he were, having a grudge did not license a strike.

Right now he was not the Lord of the Black Emperor’s Citadel; he was the First Young Master of the Yeon Clan. Unless someone touched him first, rash action was forbidden.

“...By the way, these gentlemen are...?”

“These are the First Young Master Yeon Hojeong and the Second Young Master Yeon Jipyeong of the Yeon Clan.”

Han Homyeong smiled and offered a greeting.

“Pleased to meet you. I’m Han Homyeong.”

It was so plain it was almost curt.

Shin Mo’s face tightened slightly.

To Han Homyeong they were merely scions of another house, but this venue was the ✪ Nоvеlіgһt ✪ (Official version) gathering of the Seven Great Clans’ younger generation. One’s tone was one thing—but standing with hands clasped behind the back and treating others like underlings was not acceptable.

Shin Mo was about to press the point when—

“Greetings, Master Han. I am Yeon Jipyeong, Second Young Master of the Yeon Clan.”

Jipyeong cupped his fists in salute with crisp propriety.

Unlike Han Homyeong’s arrogant nod, Jipyeong’s salute was meticulous and polite.

Han burst out laughing.

“Young Master Yeon, then. I’ve heard the Second Young Master of Green Mountain is a talent overflowing with promise. Seeing you myself, the rumor doesn’t seem false.”

Jipyeong smiled.

“You flatter me. I hardly have such talent, and I’m nothing beside my elder brother.”

Eyes naturally turned to Yeon Hojeong.

Interest flickered across Han Homyeong’s face.

“Young master...”

“Captain Shin.”

Shin Mo bowed his head.

“Yes, First Young Master.”

“I’m hungry. Let’s take our seats and eat first.”

“As you command.”

“Post the watches by rotation. No need to bodyguard us in here—let the rest rest.”

“Orders received.”

Shin Mo addressed Han in a tone gone stiff.

“We’ll go on ahead. Rest well.”

The Yeon brothers entered the manor with the Azure Hawk detachment.

Han Homyeong’s eyes dulled; the affable smile vanished without a trace.

“So even dull fangs can bite, is that it?”

At that moment—

“Han.”

“Yes, Young Lord.”

The youth who had just received Han’s respectful answer—Tang Yangseon—tilted his head.

“Is that insolent fellow really the Yeon Clan’s First Young Master?”

“So it seems.”

“Hm? Is he sick or something?”

“Sir?”

“He looks sturdy enough, but the qi he’s holding is too ordinary. His level is nothing special.”

Han cut it off cleanly.

“Street talk says the Yeon Clan’s First Young Master is the classic ‘dog son of a tiger father.’”

“Oh?”

“By contrast, the Second Young Master is rated as having talent surpassing even the current Clan Lord.”

“Same blood, polar opposite talent? That’s entertaining.”

Han lowered his head.

“From what I see, there’s no need for you to take interest in the First Young Master. Best to ignore him.”

“Not so sure.”

“Sir?”

Tang Yangseon lifted a shoulder.

“At least he’s got nerve. Showing that kind of lack of manners with a Tang man standing right there—that’s not easy.”

There’s a saying among warriors: if you prep against the Tang Clan’s poisons and hidden weapons, you’ll live ten years longer.

Sleep easy if you’ve earned the Alliance’s enmity? Hardly. But if you’ve earned the Tang Clan’s—best cut your own throat on the spot. That’s how much people feared the Tang’s arts and cold nature.

“In any case, we arrived too early. Let’s drop our luggage and take a look around Hefei.”

“As you wish.”

The Yeon Clan was already gone from their heads.

Arriving early, they could pick any rooms they liked. Servants who’d come ahead to ready the manor led their party in.

Jipyeong kept sneaking glances at Hojeong.

“Um...”

“Hm? What is it? Something to say?”

“Will this be all right?”

“What will?”

“The Tang Clan.”

Hojeong cocked his head.

“What about those bastards?”

Jipyeong swallowed before he knew it.

Those bastards? If a Tang retainer had heard that, he’d have flown into a rage.

“Did they do something wrong?”

“Sir? Ah—no! It’s not that...”

“Captain Shin, did I blunder somewhere?”

Shin Mo answered in a formal tone.

“Absolutely not.”

Absolutely not, he said. The phrasing was almost funny, but Jipyeong couldn’t laugh; Shin Mo’s face was too severe.

It wasn’t because of Hojeong. He was furious at Han Homyeong’s arrogant conduct.

Furious enough that he added one more line.

“On the contrary, I believe you did well.”

“I did well?”

“Yes. We may know the depths of a river ten fathoms down, but not the heart of a man one fathom deep; even so, sometimes one can see ten from one.”

“In short, we’re better off not dealing with those bastards at all?”

“This is the gathering place of the Seven Great Clans’ heirs. Even if this is not one’s own house, courtesy toward the scions of another clan is proper.”

Hojeong’s expression turned amused.

“His posture was crooked, sure, but it wasn’t some huge misstep.”

“If it had been unintentional language or behavior, I wouldn’t speak this strongly.”

“You were aware, then?”

Shin Mo bowed in silence.

Jipyeong asked, puzzled.

“Aware of what?”

“Han Homyeong, was it? That brat didn’t come out rude purely of his own will.”

“Then whose?”

“The Tang whelp told him to.”

“W—what?!”

Hojeong shook his head.

“Curiosity stirred, but stepping out himself would dent his face. So he sends a subordinate to poke and provoke, hoping to learn something.”

“...!”

“A yawn-worthy antique ploy, isn’t it? So obvious it’s boring now.”

“T-then you ignored them because...?”

“I had no intention of trading words from the start. When they go that route, why get dragged in?”

Jipyeong let out a breathy sound of awe.

And felt shame at once. He’d been fretting for nothing.

Hojeong ruffled his younger brother’s hair.

“In that respect, you’re growing straight and true.”

“Me?”

“Yes. I treated them with contempt; you treated them with the courtesy the clan taught you. That’s not something everyone can do just because they were taught. Especially at your age.”

Jipyeong flushed.

“I—I didn’t mean it like that...”

“Father once said this: enduring an insult isn’t patience, it’s cowardice—but if a dog barks, don’t bark back.”

Jipyeong coughed into his fist.

“I don’t mean to call the Tang... that is, I would never call them dogs...”

“It’s a figure of speech. Captain Shin and I are too twisted to live by the straight book like Father or you.”

Hojeong glanced at Shin Mo.

“Isn’t that right, Captain?”

Shin Mo smiled faintly.

“It seems so.”

“See? Looking down on your opponent is easier. Doing things by the book—that’s the hard part.”

Confusion clouded Jipyeong’s face.

“I don’t know what’s what anymore.”

“It’s not hard. Live as you’ve been taught, as you’ve lived so far. I’d like you to grow more flexible—but don’t throw away who you are now.”

“...So I’m not wrong?”

“Not at all. You’re upright and ideal. Plenty of fools will sneer that such a stance isn’t realistic—but they’ll never grasp, not if they die and come back, that the foundations of this world were set by ideals.”

“What about you, then, Brother?”

“Me?”

“Yes.”

Hojeong’s smile went bitter.

“A blockhead who has trouble telling men from dogs.”

****

Two days flew by.

Until the day of the gathering, Hojeong did not step out. Jipyeong was the same. Hojeong reviewed his arts and planned the future; Jipyeong wrestled with his sense of self.

The heirs of the other houses didn’t arrive until the night before. It seemed they were touring Hefei’s markets.

There were no further clashes with the Tang, with whom they’d had a brief brush the first day—they were simply lodged too far apart.

Thus two days passed in peace.

Morning of the gathering.

As Hojeong sat in his room, breathing and circulating qi, Shin Mo’s voice reached his ear.

[First Young Master.]

[Speak.]

[The younger generation from the Namgung and the Peng Clan have arrived.]

Flash.

Hojeong’s eyes opened.

Jade Wave True Qi, a shade more mature, limned both pupils. The faint blue that used to hover in his eyes now coiled distinctly before fading.

He rose and walked to the wide, open window. The view was good; the entire manor lay under his gaze.

He saw a party entering through the main gate.

Namgung.

A very handsome man of fine height.

An extraordinary sword hung at his waist; confidence sat plain on his face. Even from this distance, the refinement of his qi could be felt.

He was clearly a Namgung heir. Beyond his looks, the qi he carried resembled Namgung Sanghwa’s.

But that one wasn’t where Hojeong’s interest lay.

He shifted his gaze to two other young men. They were about the Namgung heir’s height, but their frames were far more massive.

Peng Clan.

Hojeong’s eyes deepened.

Vmm.

Jade Wave True Qi anchored in his dantian surged through his meridian network in an instant. Lofty Black Tortoise Qi rode up his lumbar and cooled his head.

Tsst-tss-tss.

All five senses sharpened.

He heard birdsong from far off, smelled the room’s sandalwood, felt even a single mote of dust on his skin.

“......”

Hojeong knit his brows.

What is this? Their very disposition is different.

To be exact, he would need to see their method of inner-strength operation—study the mood of their internal energy in more detail.

But their disposition was so distinct it almost made such analysis needless. The Peng Clan’s qi had nothing— not a speck— that tangled with the attackers’ from that night.

No.

There was a limit to what he could confirm from the window. Hojeong slipped from his quarters and walked straight to the outer compound’s gate.

“Hm? Who’s that?”

“Not sure... doesn’t look like a servant.”

The Peng heirs muttered as they saw him. They seemed to be keeping their voices down, but like their builds, their voices were big.

Thanks to them, every gaze fixed on Hojeong. He paid it no mind.

He stopped beside a tree, folded his arms, and studied the Peng heirs.

As he expected.

His brow furrowed of its own accord.

He would need more confirmation, but...

No matter how he looked, it wasn’t them.

Keep watching just in case? His intuition was telling him: not the Peng Clan.

Could the Peng leadership be different?

His head allowed for it; his chest did not. As Shin Mo had said, the Peng seemed the sort who let one example speak for ten.

“......”

What to do?

He made his decision.

I need to see the Ming Clan as well. There’s time. No hurry.

Just then—

“...Do you not hear me?”

At the faint prickle of a voice, Hojeong turned his eyes.

Namgung Hyun.

“Whoever you are, staring so brazenly at a stranger at first meeting—don’t you think that’s rude?”

The Peng heirs burst into hearty laughter.

“Haha! Brother Namgung, no need to go that far. We’re fine with it, right, little brother?”

“It doesn’t wear anything out.”

“There you have it.”

Their manner of speech was rough, but there was a strange innocence in it.

Hojeong’s tension bled away. He cupped his fists in salute.

“My discourtesy. You resemble someone I know.”

“Wahaha! Another stalwart like me out there? The world is wide!”

“Brother, maybe he meant me.”

“Don’t be stupid. If he looked like you, he’d run first, you maniac. You’re a bandit if ever I saw one.”

“Forgot we’re twins?”

“Twins don’t have to look alike.”

“...What does that even mean?”

Lively tempers, as big as their bodies. Such a nature can’t be faked.

“By the way, who might you be, young master?”

“Yeon Hojeong.”

“Yeon Hojeong?”

“From the Yeon Clan of Green Mountain.”

“—Oh! The Yeon Clan!”

In that instant, Hojeong saw it: Namgung Hyun’s eyes changed.

The Peng heir, Peng Daeho, hurried over and grabbed Hojeong’s hand.

Light sparked in Hojeong’s gaze.

His fingers drifted naturally toward the pulse at Peng Daeho’s wrist.

“Ha-ha-ha! From the Yeon Clan, are you? A pleasure! I’ve been wanting to meet someone from your house!”

“Hm?”

“Ahaha! Call it personal curiosity! Ah—name’s Peng Daeho! And that bandit behind me is Peng Manho, my hopelessly incorrigible little brother!”

He shook Hojeong’s hand so hard it was dizzying.

Hard to read the wrist pulse with that racket. Even so, through the clasped hands he could analyze the qi more clearly.

I’ll push the Peng to the very back of the list.

Just then—

The gate opened again.

“Oh! More guests! Who now?”

Clunk.

The doors swung and, with a small escort, a brother and sister stepped in.

Namgung Hyun’s eyes widened. The Peng brothers went slack-jawed.

The young man was striking, but the young woman’s beauty was extraordinary—her clothes not especially fine, yet her presence lit the space around her.

Namgung Hyun murmured without meaning to,

“Ahyeon?”

“Huh?!”

Je Gal Ahyeon pointed toward their side.

Namgung Hyun started to raise a hand with a faint smile when—

“Jeonga!”