Black and White Martial Emperor

WHOOOOOSH!

The profundity of Shaolin’s martial arts was known throughout the world, but most martial artists still found themselves staring in awe when they witnessed those arts brought to life before their eyes.

It was not merely because of their overwhelming power.

Shaolin martial arts took stillness within motion and motion within stillness as guiding principles so distinct that they could almost be seen with the naked eye.

That quality was especially pronounced in its movement arts. One needed only to watch Lee Cheolgyeong to understand.

WHOOM! WHOOOOOM!

The scenery around him hurtled backward at a terrifying speed.

There was nothing dynamic about his movements. His hands were clasped behind his back, and he merely placed one foot before the other. He did not stamp down with force. His steps were light and nimble, as though he were crossing a line of stepping-stones.

Yet his speed was astonishing. With his torso held perfectly steady, he produced an unimaginable velocity through nothing more than the light movements of his legs.

This was Shaolin’s famed movement art, the Vajra Immovable Movement Art. Once that art was mastered, the legendary Nine Grades of the Lotus Platform would finally reveal itself.

A mythical movement art said to create nine afterimages with a single light step.

Though only a little past thirty, Lee Cheolgyeong had already begun to glimpse the ultimate essence of Vajra Immovability.

WHOOOOOOOOOM.

After running for some time, Lee Cheolgyeong suddenly glanced behind him.

Something is strange.

Confusion entered his face as he looked at Beomo.

Why is Brother’s movement art...?

Lee Cheolgyeong possessed exceptional martial talent.

Shaolin did not transmit the main temple’s secret supreme arts to those who lacked either talent or character. That was all the more true of a lay disciple.

It was not merely because of the ties between their forebears. Lee Cheolgyeong had met Shaolin’s standards in both talent and character. That was why he was permitted to wield Shaolin’s supreme arts.

Beomo, however, was different.

Beomo was a warrior monk of the main temple who had formed a connection with Venerable Gongjeok and entered Shaolin at the vigorous age of fifteen.

For him to have begun training at that age and now be mentioned as the likely next master of the Arhat Hall meant that his talent was in no way inferior to Lee Cheolgyeong’s. In particular, Beomo’s fierce competitive spirit had driven him to obsession with martial arts, allowing him to reach his current realm.

In terms of cultivation alone, he stood above Lee Cheolgyeong.

Why does his True Qi keep wavering?

There was something peculiar about the movement art of the man following behind him.

Lee Cheolgyeong could not identify the exact problem, but it felt as though Beomo was failing to follow the principles of Vajra Immovability properly. More precisely, it seemed as if he had already mastered the Vajra Immovable Movement Art in his own way, yet was deliberately twisting both his movements and the flow of his True Qi.

With Beomo’s skill, even if he had neglected training for some time, he could not possibly be inferior to Lee Cheolgyeong. Yet he kept performing the movement art in a bizarre manner.

Lee Cheolgyeong did not leave the question unasked.

“Brother.”

Even while running at such speed, his voice did not tremble in the slightest.

Beomo looked at Lee Cheolgyeong in puzzlement.

Concern appeared on Lee Cheolgyeong’s face.

“You do not look well. Your movement art keeps wavering too. Yet I see no signs of internal or external injury. Are you perhaps doing it deliberately...?”

“I am fine.”

Unlike Lee Cheolgyeong’s, Beomo’s voice trembled faintly.

“I will not hold you back. Do not worry about me. Keep running.”

“Ah. Understood.”

What else could he do when Beomo put it that way? Lee Cheolgyeong buried his unresolved doubts and accelerated once more.

At that moment, Beomo’s eyes gleamed.

That is it.

As he watched Lee Cheolgyeong’s magnificent movement art, Beomo’s gaze held not admiration, but careful scrutiny.

His movement art is truly exemplary. He is embodying the principles of Vajra Immovability perfectly. If he continues progressing at this pace, he may enter the realm of the Nine Grades of the Lotus Platform within ten years.

Beomo could tell that Lee Cheolgyeong’s movement art was nearly flawless.

Yet that only raised another question.

Why does it look so stifling?

Lee Cheolgyeong’s movement art was identical to his own. They had learned the same method and the same mnemonic verses.

Though their builds differed, Lee Cheolgyeong and Beomo were remarkably similar in height and limb length. Beomo’s larger frame gave him a more solid appearance, but when it came to performing the movement art, it would not be an exaggeration to say they used the same posture and circulated their True Qi in the same way.

Then why does it feel wrong when I do it?

Beomo could perform the Vajra Immovable Movement Art exactly as Lee Cheolgyeong did. In terms of proficiency, he was actually superior.

Then why?

As he traveled south with Lee Cheolgyeong, Beomo had suddenly begun to feel that Lee Cheolgyeong’s posture looked clumsy.

No. His movement art is not clumsy.

Beomo’s gaze deepened.

It only looks clumsy when I imagine myself moving as he does.

That was it.

Lee Cheolgyeong had learned a form of the movement art perfectly suited to him. The exemplary form of the Vajra Immovable Movement Art aligned precisely with the kind of movement art he sought.

But Beomo was different.

My martial arts—no, my nature—is different from his.

Though his thoughts could sometimes be difficult to read, Lee Cheolgyeong was a man of such fine character that every elder of the main temple had approved of him.

Beomo was not the same. From the moment he entered Shaolin, he had been raised as one of the many promising candidates to lead the Arhat Hall—a warrior monk among warrior monks.

Even before talent came into question, his temperament had never been particularly monk-like. He followed the Buddha’s teachings, but he had been raised first and foremost to become the living embodiment of Shaolin’s martial arts.

Different temperaments inevitably produced different interpretations of the same martial art. Lee Cheolgyeong wielded the grand, powerful martial arts characteristic of Shaolin, yet still left room for a measure of concession—the martial path of a great chivalrous hero. Beomo’s martial arts were more aggressive and more destructive.

How could this be?

The eyes that had sunk into deep contemplation began to shine brilliantly.

To think I am only now realizing something so obvious.

Even the words of sages were interpreted differently by every person. Why should martial arts be any different?

All this time, I merely imitated Shaolin’s martial arts. I never truly made them my own.

At that moment, the stern rebuke of the abbot’s senior brother surfaced in his mind.

Anyone who practices martial arts may possess a competitive spirit. Arrogance, however, is another matter. Perhaps your five years of facing the wall were not a success, but a failure.

A competitive spirit was a driving force behind martial growth. Arrogance and conceit, however, were among the primary causes of stagnation.

Beomo had been conceited. He had believed himself the greatest because of his talent and because he had advanced faster than anyone else within the temple.

But his arrogance had been shattered before an embodiment of real combat who far surpassed anything he had imagined.

Yeon Hojeong!

Yes.

Even in terms of martial realm alone, Yeon Hojeong stood above him.

Beomo had been unable to accept that a young man nearly fifteen years his junior had reached a higher realm than he had.

Yet it was undeniable. Worse, during their duel, Yeon Hojeong had not displayed even half of his true ability.

Even so, he had overwhelmed Beomo. It had never been a proper fight to begin with.

Once again, the abbot’s senior brother’s words returned to him.

Defeat is defeat. Had that been a duel to the death, you would not be standing here complaining to me. You would be dead.

Whoever told you that locking yourself in a room and throwing punches would make you strong? You may comprehend the principles of martial arts, but martial arts that cannot express those principles through the body are only half complete. That is what your martial arts are now.

Beomo sighed.

How shameful.

Remembering that moment filled him with such shame that he nearly shuddered. No matter how great the shock of his defeat had been, he had pestered his elder with excuses that made no sense.

His refusal to acknowledge defeat and the arrogance that had reached its peak had blinded him to what he needed to see. He had failed to perform the simplest act of all—examining himself. In doing so, he had disappointed an elder of his sect and halted his own growth.

Shaolin’s martial arts are invincible under heaven. But what made them invincible was not merely the profundity of the arts themselves. It was the effort and ability of the masters who proved those arts to the world.

At that instant—

FLASH!

A faint golden radiance kindled in Beomo’s eyes.

Defeat is not shameful. What is shameful is refusing to accept defeat and clinging to it.

Attachment invited calamity, and desire bred narrow-mindedness.

WOOOOOONG!

At that moment, Beomo heard the mighty toll of a great Buddhist bell reverberating from within his body.

It was the sound of a bell ringing from Shaoshi Peak on Mount Song in Henan.

Majestic yet soothing to the heart, its toll tore Beomo’s stubborn pride out by the roots.

FWOOSH!

Running at the front, Lee Cheolgyeong sensed a qi wave like an erupting volcano and spun around in alarm.

“Brother?!”

Beomo’s entire body was cloaked in a faint golden glow.

That was not all. With his palms pressed together and his eyes half-lidded, Beomo continued performing the Vajra Immovable Movement Art without even realizing what he was doing. The sight filled anyone who witnessed it with solemn reverence.

WOOOOOONG! WOOOOOOOOONG!

The low toll of the Buddhist bell shook Lee Cheolgyeong’s internal force.

Wonder replaced the astonishment in his eyes.

The divine art is manifesting! What realization could he have attained in such a brief moment?

Shaolin’s martial arts allowed no compromise in the harmony between mind and body.

Beomo’s spirit, once steeped in arrogance and caked in defeat, blossomed into clarity through a single moment of enlightenment. In response, his body, which had withered during his long cessation of qi circulation, began transforming from its very roots.

FLASH! FLASH!

The once-gentle golden radiance suddenly intensified explosively.

This was a true breakthrough through the Wall of Martial Arts. His body had crossed the wall long ago, but his mind had remained trapped behind it. Now that wall was collapsing with almost absurd ease.

The true flowering of Shaolin’s supreme martial art, the Mahayana Brahma Divine Art.

WHOOSH!

The golden True Qi condensed into his body in an instant.

Beomo opened his eyes.

The moment their gazes met, Lee Cheolgyeong felt himself shrink back slightly. Beomo’s lion-like gaze was utterly different from before. It resembled the eyes of a legendary Wisdom King who crushed evil beneath his feet and purified it.

“Brother.”

“Yes?”

“You have suffered because of this foolish senior brother.”

FLUTTER!

The hem of Beomo’s monastic robe flapped like the wings of a hawk.

“Let us hurry. An ominous wind is blowing from the south.”

Lee Cheolgyeong grinned.

“Shall we truly start running, then?”

BOOOOM!

The two shot forward at an even more terrifying speed.

They were the footsteps of true rising stars who would one day stand as pillars of both Shaolin’s main temple and its lay branches.

*****

“The Commander of the Evil-Smiting Corps came personally?”

“Yes.”

Sima Hyeon nodded.

“Bring him in.”

“Yes.”

A short while later—

CREAAAAK!

The door of the crumbling abandoned building swung open, revealing a young man carrying an enormous axe.

Sima Hyeon rose from where he had been sitting in the darkness.

“Are you the chivalrous hero Yeon Hojeong, Commander of the Evil-Smiting Corps?”

“...”

“...?”

“Well, this is a pleasant surprise.”

Yeon Hojeong grinned.

“That is right. I am Yeon Hojeong, Night Lord.”