Black and White Martial Emperor

PAPAPANG!

After advancing slowly like a snake, Tang Sang-a unleashed an explosive Palm Art in an instant, then panted for breath.

This is exhausting.

It felt like the poisonous qi surging out of her palm was about to reflux.

With the excessive consumption of Inner Qi, the internal blood channels inside her were frayed to ribbons. If she set her mind on recovery, she could return to normal in three or four days—but there was no need, to begin with, to keep pushing a training intensity so high it damaged her body like this.

Of course, Tang Sang-a didn’t believe that repeating reckless training would make her martial arts grow.

It’s exhausting, but I have to endure.

What she wanted was a way to produce maximum efficiency in extreme situations.

Tang Sang-a recalled that time.

The madness of those gray wolves who had piled up malice for years in the wasteland—each individual’s level not that high, yet as a group, terrifyingly strong.

They were strong.

Tension hardened her face.

I thought they were nothing... but they were so strong.

Unlike most Tang Clan people, Tang Sang-a was gentle and bright by nature.

But the Tang Clan’s distinctive poison and tenacity undeniably remained in her veins. And in that battle, # Nоvеlight # she had released the viciousness of her bloodline without holding back.

And yet—

I was useless.

The number of enemies she had killed with poison and hidden weapons was easily in the dozens.

She didn’t regret doing it. Regardless of how much or how little real combat experience she had, they were enemies and evil men. More than that—if she didn’t kill them, she would die.

The problem was how they responded.

Allies died because of me.

The Gray Wolf Band avoided Tang Sang-a completely as they ravaged the Demon-Sweeping Corps.

Naturally. Even a graze from her poison or hidden weapons meant a fatal wound. The Gray Wolf Band weren’t idiots—they had no reason to close with her.

Tang Sang-a forced her way into their midst and fought to the end, but the Gray Wolf Band exquisitely targeted only the enemies around her.

In the end, corpses—enemy and ally alike—piled up around her like a mountain.

Of course, it wasn’t her fault allies died. But Tang Sang-a couldn’t make herself believe that.

Because she was the one who survived.

PAAANG!

Even with strength draining from her entire body, she still threw spring-loaded fist-and-palm strikes.

Past muscle, even her joints ached deep in the bone. Still, she didn’t stop.

What’s more terrifying is—

As Tang Sang-a swung both arms powerfully, she bit her lip.

I collapsed like an idiot.

It was the first time. The first time she’d tried to grit her teeth and kill, after burning through every scrap of stamina and Inner Qi.

It was the first time. The first time she’d exhausted herself to the point that even willpower couldn’t hold her up.

And in the end, more comrades were sacrificed to protect her.

Her eyes reddened.

The faces of the soldiers who had died because of her floated up.

KWAANG!

Her punch gouged a chunk out of the tree’s bark.

Drip.

Blood ran down her fist. Her Inner Qi control was unstable—she hadn’t been able to protect her hand.

“Huff! Huff!”

Panting raggedly, Tang Sang-a sank to the ground.

Tears spilled from her eyes.

I’m sorry.

Throughout the entire period of the memorial rite, she couldn’t sleep even once—she did nothing but cry.

Later, even tears stopped coming. So she began to train. She thought that if she abused her body with training so vicious it made her mind fly away, she might escape this grief.

Of course, the result was not good.

“Hah.”

Sweat, tears, blood—Tang Sang-a was a complete mess as she flopped onto her back.

Now she didn’t care anymore.

So I really was this powerless.

Then, suddenly, she remembered her grandfather’s words.

“As I see it, the main house needs a new wind. And I think you could become a great strength to the main house. So don’t avert your eyes from reality just because your mind is tangled—train hard, like you are now.”

Her grandfather was right.

A “new wind” for the clan? That was something to think about later.

She needed to train harder, respond more ruthlessly. If necessary, she needed to become more vicious than anyone in the Tang Clan.

If she wanted to live the way she wanted, that level of resolve was mandatory.

Tang Sang-a closed her eyes.

Her harsh breathing gradually calmed. The moment she let the strength drain out of her body, everything creaked.

How much time passed like that—

“You’ve got snot.”

“Huh?!”

Startled, Tang Sang-a snapped her eyes open.

A young man was looking down at her with a peculiar expression.

“Snot on top of a face drenched in tears and sweat? What a disaster.”

Tang Sang-a jerked her upper body up.

“W-Who are you?”

The young man—Yeon Hojeong—grinned.

“Long time no see, Soldier Tang Sang-a.”

Ah, right. I’m a soldier of the Demon-Sweeping Corps, aren’t I?

Tang Sang-a hurriedly got to her feet and bowed. Her waist hurt like it was about to snap.

“I greet you, Corps Commander of the Evil-Smiting Corps.”

Yeon Hojeong smiled.

“Your discipline is locked in tight. My kids should learn from you. Even when it’s private, those bastards treat me way too rough.”

“...Pardon?”

“Anyway.”

Yeon Hojeong looked around the clearing.

“This place is a wreck. It doesn’t look like normal training. Were you blowing off steam or something?”

Tang Sang-a didn’t answer. She didn’t even have the mind to answer.

“But why are you here...?”

“Is it hard?”

“...What?”

“Not your body. Mentally—you look like you’re having a hard time.”

Tang Sang-a bit her lip.

“I’m fine.”

“You don’t look fine.”

“...What did you come here for?”

Yeon Hojeong spoke bluntly.

“I got assigned a special mission. It’s risky, and I figured it’d be better to move with a small number. So I’ve been picking through talent here and there.”

“...?”

“I thought I’d need you, so I came—but with that headspace, it’s probably too much.”

Tang Sang-a’s eyes shook.

Yeon Hojeong turned away.

“Pull yourself together. If our paths cross later, we’ll meet again.”

“What mission is it?”

“Hm?”

“What mission needs me?”

This time too, Yeon Hojeong answered honestly.

“I’m going to infiltrate the Dark Path martial world and find out something.”

“Is it that dangerous?”

“Yangcheon is involved.”

“Yangcheon?”

After tilting her head for a moment, Tang Sang-a’s eyes snapped wide.

“H-Hey, Yangcheon as in Fighting King Yangcheon of the Immortal Sovereign Kings?!”

“Which is why it’s dangerous.”

“Huh!”

For a very brief moment, Tang Sang-a was able to escape the swamp of self-loathing and grief.

Yeon Hojeong shrugged.

“It’ll be one hell of a thrill, right? It probably won’t happen—but if something goes wrong, we might run into one of the strongest under heaven.”

“...!”

“Then again, you’ve seen your grandfather plenty, so maybe you won’t feel much.”

Fighting King Yangcheon was unquestionably dangerous, but the Dark King’s reputation—debating the greatest in Tang Clan history—was something else entirely.

In the martial world, Tang Hyeong the Dark King was treated as equal to the Grim Reaper. The King of Death who wielded poison and hidden weapons like limbs—people said that after Tang Hyeong passed through, not even a single blade of grass would grow.

And Tang Sang-a was a genius who had received direct teaching from that very Dark King.

“Anyway, I’m going.”

“......”

“...Mm. Before I go, should I give you one piece of advice?”

“...Yes. Ah—yes!”

With a serious face, Yeon Hojeong said,

“I don’t know what it is, but if you ever feel like you don’t have enough strength, turn your eyes toward the world.”

“...?!”

“I’m saying you don’t have to chain yourself to the Demon-Sweeping Corps. If you want to become strong, quit and go out into the world alone. That would be better.”

Tang Sang-a was flustered.

“Q-Quit the Demon-Sweeping Corps...?”

“Why? You can quit. Though, I guess I’m not one to talk—since I’m the one who forced you into the Demon-Sweeping Corps in the first place.”

Yeon Hojeong smiled.

“In any organization—whether a military unit or a martial organization—you get maximum efficiency when every member commits themselves for the organization. But looking at your state right now, it doesn’t seem like it’ll benefit you, or the Demon-Sweeping Corps.”

“...!”

“Live smart. One experience belonging to an armed group where you don’t know a single person—that should be enough, right?”

Yeon Hojeong turned away.

Watching him walk off without hesitation, Tang Sang-a asked,

“Corps Commander—are you certain?”

“Certain about what?”

“Certain that you’re doing well.”

“And on top of that, I know how I should live, and where I should put my effort.”

“...!”

“That isn’t hard. The hardest part is the process of reaching certainty. If you draw out the answer in that process, the rest resolves naturally.”

“The process...”

Tang Sang-a asked again.

“You really came because you need me, right?”

“Isn’t that obvious?”

“But if I don’t go, then it won’t be ‘the best,’ will it?”

“That doesn’t mean I can drag along someone who isn’t even okay. Everyone would be put at risk.”

“...!!”

“If your body’s wrecked, medicine can fix it. But the only person who knows how to make an unsettled mind okay is the person themselves. So I’m letting it go. I don’t know how to make you okay.”

Without realizing it, Tang Sang-a bit her lip. The words everyone would be put at risk stabbed into her chest like a knife.

Yeon Hojeong flicked her a glance.

“How you take my advice is up to you. But don’t forget this one thing.”

“...?”

“If you didn’t have ability, would I have bothered coming all the way here to say something I’d regret?”

With that, Yeon Hojeong left the clearing.

Tang Sang-a’s eyes trembled.

Her already suffocating feelings became even more complicated. But her hand—still crusted with blood—had already clenched into a tight fist.

As Yeon Hojeong walked through the woods, he said in a calm voice,

“You can come out now.”

The moment he finished speaking, Mo Yong-woo stepped out from behind a massive tree.

“Sometimes I think this,” Mo Yong-woo said.

“Hm?”

“Maybe Yeon Clan Lord’s strongest weapon isn’t martial arts—it’s his tongue.”

“You mean I’m all mouth?”

“You know that isn’t what I mean.”

Yeon Hojeong burst out laughing.

“Talk me into selling Yangtze River water if I had to. Even I’m impressed sometimes.”

At his easy swagger, Mo Yong-woo also let out a small laugh.

“Even that silver tongue didn’t show its full power this time.”

“This is fine. What are you talking about?”

“I’m sorry. Normally, as a Corps Commander, I’d issue a recommendation—but seeing her condition, I couldn’t easily do it.”

Yeon Hojeong shook his head.

“The worse the growing pains, the harder the conviction gets. Don’t worry. She’s just starting.”

“Is that so.”

Mo Yong-woo sighed.

“Either way, Yeon Clan Lord must be frustrated too. If you have any necessary qualifications, tell this older brother. I’ll try to find you the best people I can.”

“I already got them all—what are you on about?”

“Hm?”

“I just got the last one, didn’t I? There’s nobody else to get now.”

Mo Yong-woo was flustered.

“Got her? But Miss Tang clearly—”

“She’ll come.”

Yeon Hojeong wore a vicious smile.

“You think I ran my mouth until it hurt because I wanted to comfort that lady?”

“...Huh?”

“I need a capable Tang blood relative. And I can’t take Dang Gwan away—so I’ve gotta take her at least.”

“...?!”

Mo Yong-woo’s mouth fell open.

“So you weren’t comforting Miss Tang—you were planning to make her follow you of her own will?”

“When someone’s drowning in self-loathing about being useless, what’s a more efficient coaxing than telling them they’re absolutely necessary talent?”

“Ghk!”

“It was a little cringe, but when you’re recruiting needed talent, you’ve gotta swallow this much itchiness.”

*****

Three days later.

A bit haggard, but with eyes far clearer than three days ago, Tang Sang-a came to the Army-Breaking Pavilion.

“I greet you, Corps Commander.”

Yeon Hojeong forcibly held back his cheeks from climbing up to his eyebrows.

“Welcome, Soldier Tang Sang-a.”