Black and White Martial Emperor

“Young Master!”

Urgency flashed across Shin Mo’s face.

Stamping steps that shook heaven and earth—then, in an instant, Yeon Hojeong charged like a storm and was already at the enemy’s vanguard.

The speed was monstrous. He was closing the distance not with a movement art but with footwork—wasteful to the extreme.

The problem was Yeon Hojeong’s killing-will.

Shin Mo had seen that killing-will once before. The very same momentum as when he drove Thunder Hero Chu Seong to the brink.

But there was no comparing the density.

If then the killing-will was a breeze, now it was a gale. If then it was a campfire, now it was a conflagration that could burn even a great mountain.

‘Dangerous!’

He did not know how he was stoking such killing-will. What mattered was that at this rate the Young Master might be snatched, absurdly, in vain.

“Protect the Young Master!”

Paaak!

Centered on Shin Mo, the Azure Hawk Squad moved with swift precision.

Sprinting mindlessly forward, Shin Mo caught sight of the footprints left on the ground—the traces of the stamping steps Yeon Hojeong had taken.

‘Such traces?!’

It was a wreck.

Not impressions of a foot, but cracks spread in all directions as if a boulder of hundreds of catties had slammed down. It was as though he had poured inner power with the express intent to smash the earth.

Footprints showing not a fingernail’s worth of cool-headedness. Those savagely murderous traces laid bare Yeon Hojeong’s state of mind.

‘Danger!’

BOOOM! BOOOOM!

Only after straining with all his might to close the distance did Shin Mo clearly see Yeon Hojeong’s back.

‘—!’

Shin Mo’s eyes flew wide.

KWA-KWA-BOOM!

Explosions like blasting powder thundered.

Startled, Shin Mo involuntarily halted his movement art.

Thunk! Thud! BOOM!

Hairline fractures spread across the ground three inches before his toes.

It was not Shin Mo’s power. They were marks born of intangible shockwaves ricocheting out.

“Everyone stop! Do not approach!”

The Azure Hawk Squad hastily cut their movement arts.

Shin Mo’s mouth slowly fell open.

“This is impossible?!”

****

Above the giant who recalled a Diamond Yaksha—

Soaring high into the sky and just about to swing the axe, Yeon Hojeong thought:

Was this truly all right?

The opponent was a master. Perhaps not one who had pierced the wall of enlightenment into the super-peak realm, but in the tier below, a master capable of contending at the forefront.

Not only this giant. The two masters three jang behind, staring at him in shock, were similar.

With these three, they could not take the Clan Lord of a Great Clan—but they could seize a representative elder of the Nine Sects and One Union.

And he had charged at such men.

‘I can’t fight them all at once. I target one man, thoroughly. I can’t use Captain Shin now. Thankfully, these men don’t intend to kill me.’

In a split instant he read all the surrounding circumstances, the reality, and the immediate future.

A myriad of branches. Though he could not rein in the killing-will erupting at the sight of mortal enemies, he was a veteran of a hundred battles who had survived immeasurable asura fields.

He read. He computed and derived. He checked the derived answer, and fit the checked answer to the situation.

A linkage of fiery emotion and cold reason.

As Yeon Hojeong, he was angry; as the Dark Emperor, he swung the axe.

Thud!

The giant—Ming Hak—started.

‘What?!’

He was one whose muscles were compressed to the extreme; he had trained the forefathers’ martial art of the Ming Clan—Spirit Turtle Divine Art.

The Spirit Turtle Divine Art was one of the forefathers’ Four Great Divine Arts; at its utmost it achieved Diamond Indestructibility.

The martial art learned by Shadow-Death chief Ming Onji was precisely this Spirit Turtle Divine Art. And Ming Hak had attained a realm far beyond Ming Onji’s—because the depth of the martial arts he had trained originally was superior.

The axe bit into the arm hardened like iron by the Spirit Turtle Carapace.

The axe edge sank more than an inch. Even granting it was a heavy weapon, considering the rebound of the carapace, the force was absurd.

“You cur!”

Whoosh!

Ming Hak’s fist tore the air.

It was a stupidly large fist. It wasn’t even fully extended and the atmosphere seemed to shudder.

An inescapable blow. Cold northern darkness filled Yeon Hojeong’s eyes.

KRAAANG!

‘—!’

Ming Hak stepped back a pace.

Not by his own will. The fist he had thrown throbbed as if it would shatter.

“What are you, brat?!”

Thump.

Landing, Yeon Hojeong—around his body translucent hexagonal tortoise patterns rose.

Veeeeee!

Over Yeon Hojeong’s shoulder, a serpent-like monster writhed as if ascending.

It was the Black Tortoise’s art, the Northern Heaven Twelve Walls. A technique famed for absolute defense; at the peak, they said one could repel cannonfire with inner-power shields alone.

Ming Hak’s face twisted.

“What in the world are you...?!”

Paak!

There was no need to listen. With light footwork, Yeon Hojeong closed in.

Though not the White Tiger Lord’s Step, he was fast. In the one ability to close distance in an instant, he was Ming Hak’s better.

Startled, Ming Hak swung twin fists.

Voom! Voom!

A heavy fist method. And as powerful as it was heavy.

But if it was heavy work, Yeon Hojeong was no less. His martial way was the one-hit finish wrought from an eighty-cattie axe.

He swung the Beast Slayer Axe.

Jajajajang!

The left fist ricocheted away; the right fist curved down and smashed the ground.

A second shock flashed across Ming Hak’s face.

What he had unfolded was the Spirit Turtle Divine Fist. He had not gone all-out, but it was power enough to render an ordinary master combat-incapable in one strike.

And that fist had been stopped. A blow that would send even rock flying.

Sswiik! Thud!

A pillar-thick leg whipped Yeon Hojeong’s iron axe. Yeon Hojeong’s body skidded back.

The corner of Ming Hak’s mouth quivered, ever so slightly.

Considerable pain ran up the leg he had kicked out with the kicking method. Because of the rebound.

Thud!

Righting his stance, Ming Hak asked in a cold voice,

“What are you? To dare stand against the Ming Cla—hm?”

He had not noticed in the sudden assault, but a closer look—this brat seemed to be that one.

“You’re that whelp called Yeon Hojeong?”

Yeon Hojeong answered, cold,

“Are the three of you all there is?”

“...Hah!”

Ming Hak burst into a guffaw.

“Ha ha ha! Have I ever seen such a lunatic? Even knowing who we are, you rush in and swing an axe?”

Leisure oozed from the laughter.

Not only him. Though the sudden strike had surprised them, the two masters with their hands clasped behind their backs three jang away also wore relaxed looks.

Ming Hak’s eyes kindled murder.

“So much the better. I’ll break your limbs and escort you to the main house.”

Break his limbs.

He had heard it said countless times. So many that the abuse was trite.

Ts-ts-ts-ts.

Yeon Hojeong felt a fiery killing-will surge—so fierce it chilled even himself.

‘It’s this one.’

This one, for sure.

Not because he trained the same martial art. The memory was old, but Yeon Hojeong remembered the man’s disposition exactly.

Certain. This one—and the two with hands clasped behind their backs—were among those who served as vanguard when the Yeon Clan was invaded.

Brrrrr.

The axe trembled. Rage that ignored cold reason poured terrible power into the axe.

Ming Hak’s face set.

“Your killing-will is vicious. Even a dark-path butcher couldn’t exude such killing-will. Truly fitting for a villain who takes killing as a casual matter.”

“...Takes killing as a casual matter?”

Sparks flew from Yeon Hojeong’s eyes.

“With you, it’s allowed.”

Flash! Flash!

Eyes rolling with a ruddy killing-will sent a chill down Ming Hak’s spine.

Ming Hak stretched a hand back.

“I’ll take him. The two of you rest.”

The middle-aged man with a long sword at his waist spoke.

“Be careful, elder brother. That one is no ordinary feral beast.”

“At best, a beast.”

Thoom!

Ming Hak stepped in with force.

It was a stout stamping step. Power not inferior to Yeon Hojeong’s.

“Come.”

He was imposing.

Whatever his character, in facing combat, his bearing as a martial man of a great house was magnificently imposing.

Yeon Hojeong hated that imposing air.

Under the pretext of serving the clan, that cur had buried the innocent; with a hood over his head, he had beaten people to death like a ~Nоvеl𝕚ght~ butcher. That cur’s grandeur was loathsome.

Axe hooked over his shoulder, Yeon Hojeong spoke.

“You. What’s your name?”

“You’ve the mouth of a butcher. Fine—this elder is called Ming Hak. Chew on the elder’s name while you rot in the main house dungeon.”

“Ming Hak... Ming Hak...”

Yeon Hojeong nodded.

“I’ll remember it.”

“Enough prattle. Now co—”

BOOM!

In a blink, Yeon Hojeong closed and swept the axe.

A thunderbolt of a blow. A speed utterly different from earlier.

Even so, Ming Hak did not panic. At the axe ripping in so fast the shaft seemed to bend, he merely thrust out a single fist.

Jeeee-ong!

A resonance like iron striking iron rang out.

‘What on earth is this brat...’

Again, Ming Hak had no choice but to be astonished.

He had felt it at the first clash, but this was no ordinary strength. Even he—who yielded to none in raw power—had to tense every muscle in his body before this monstrous force.

Yeon Hojeong poured on a storm of attacks.

Jajajajang! Jeee-ong!

Fast and strong.

It looked like random swings, but each was a one-hit finish, severing lines and preventing follow-ups.

Was there any other master who could wield such a massive, heavy great-weapon this fast and this precisely?

BOOM!

Yeon Hojeong suddenly coughed blood.

From the fist that had smashed the axe edge, impact coursed in and roiled his insides in an instant.

Within hard force was soft force. Unfolded with intent, merely colliding inflicted internal injury.

But Yeon Hojeong did not retreat.

White Tiger Qi surged and realized battle footwork of unceasing advance.

Thud! Thud! Thud!

Power—then power again.

Driving through the short gap, Yeon Hojeong at last unfolded the Tiger King’s Nine Thunderclap Stances.

‘...!’

Ming Hak’s complexion changed.

Offensive power in a different dimension from before. Even before the axe edge struck, his skin felt as if it would split. A murderous momentum.

Not a strike to meet with moderate force. Ming Hak hauled up the Spirit Turtle Divine Art to the hilt.

KRRR-ROAR! BOOM!

Axe and fist collided, kicking up a tremendous shockwave.

The spreading shock-wind swept all around. Not only the two masters, Ming Hwi and Ming Heon—the entire three hundred of the White Dragon Army stepped back.

If they were caught in it, they could suffer internal injury. If their skill was lacking, the shockwave alone might leave them on the verge of death. Such was the impact of the clash.

The two men crashed again and again.

KRRRRR-ROOM!

Power against power, inner power against inner power.

Ming Hak was strong. Not swift, but his entire body was a weapon—a man of fists who bounced an eighty-cattie axe away with external skill and could send boulders flying with a single punch.

Yeon Hojeong was the same. Contrary to appearances, his brute strength was inborn. In strength, he yielded to no one.

KWA-KWA-BOOM! Thud!

Yeon Hojeong spat blood once more.

Crack!

Ming Hak’s body faltered.

“Mm.”

He had tried to chain into a follow-up to strike the chest, but the axe, curving up, smashed his thigh.

So strong was that blow he nearly toppled over. His right thigh swelled, taut and round.

Ming Hak gnashed his teeth.

“You whelp—don’t push it!”

Chiiiiik!

Ming Hak’s qi-pressure soared, as if to pierce the sky.

The pressure alone made it hard to withstand. He was exploding the Spirit Turtle Divine Art to its utmost to draw out full power.

A fearsome martial art. This was Ming Hak’s true caliber. One untrained in martial arts might faint merely by standing before him.

Then—

“You...”

Puzzlement came over Yeon Hojeong’s face.

His complexion was pale; his lips were drenched in blood.

Ming Hak’s thick brows twitched.

‘What is this?’

Vwoom. Vwoooom.

Just as he was about to hurl an attack, Ming Hak felt a strange sensation.

‘Why is that brat’s qi...?’

Ts-ts-ts-ts.

Black energy rose from Yeon Hojeong’s body.

Amazingly, his tenor was stronger than before he took internal injury. It was unbelievable.

Yeon Hojeong was equally shocked.

“You—what martial art have you trained?”

“What are you babbling about!”

Yeon Hojeong’s features twisted.

“A fake Black Tortoise Art?”