Black and White Martial Emperor (Wuxia Novel)

“Guuulp— ahh, that hit the spot.”
“Sh-should I bring more?”
“Hm? Oh, no. Overeating’s bad for you.”
The Iron Cudgel Beggar looked at the heap of chicken bones on the floor and nearly wept.
They called themselves beggars, but as a martial sect and the godfather of the information trade, the Beggars’ Union’s funds were beyond imagining. Naturally, a branch master had a fair amount of discretionary money.
Even so, the Iron Cudgel Beggar had spent out of pocket countless times for the people’s sake, but never for luxury. That went for him and for all beggars of the Union.
Yet today, for the first time, he had splurged on three whole chickens. Hens, not roosters.
And every last one of those treasures had ended up in the Rear Beggar’s stomach.
“Huh? Why the sour face, Branch Master? Did I offend you?”
“Eh? N-no! How could I!”
“Right? I thought maybe your stomach hurt over the cost of the chickens.”
As if he’d mourn the chickens. What rankled was that the Rear Beggar hadn’t left him even a single chicken neck.
“But…”
“Mm?”
The Iron Cudgel Beggar cocked his head.
“Your face is shining with grease. Did you land yourself a nice patron?”
Ga Deoksang grinned.
Bits of boiled chicken clung between his even teeth.
“I bagged a very interesting patron. Well, he occasionally looks dangerous.”
“Surely you don’t mean the Yeon Clan Lord?”
“Are you crazy? That man’s not just dangerous—he’s terrifying. I’ve never met anyone so overwhelming, except my master. It was like he’d set gemstones in his eyes; they practically flashed.”
“Then…?”
“Not the Yeon Clan Lord. His son.”
“—Gasp!”
The Iron Cudgel Beggar sucked in a breath without thinking.
“You don’t mean the Gale Lion?”
“The what lion?”
“...The Gale Lion.”
“Who’s the Gale Lion?”
“The Yeon Clan’s First Young Master.”
Ga Deoksang tilted his head.
“That’s him, sure—but when did he get a nickname?”
“Uh, it’s pretty famous, you know? A couple months back? It’s spread as far as Jiangsu.”
“Oh?”
Well, that figured.
At the younger-generation gathering, the martial skill Yeon Hojeong had shown was shock itself. Not only was he the foremost among the rising talents, the way he savaged Thunder Hero Chu Seong had been nothing short of ferocious.
The martial world was hypersensitive to rumor. And the ones spreading it were the rising talents of the Seven Great Clans.
Naturally, a nickname with layers of fat rumor would have spread.
“Still, ‘Gale Lion’? That’s a bit much.”
A lion that summons a murderous gale—or a lion that whips up a mad wind.
Interpretations aside, it didn’t sound all that flattering. As a nickname for the First Young Master of an orthodox great house like the Yeon Clan, it felt excessively violent.
Well.
If you set aside his birth and surroundings, it fit him perfectly. Lion or not, he was definitely half out of his mind.
“Snaring the Gale Lion as a patron—very you, Rear Beggar.”
“That fellow’s that famous?”
“The rumor was spread by rising talents with their pride ramrod straight. By now, anyone who’s anyone will have heard.”
Ga Deoksang snorted.
“It’s always that damn pride. Look at the Nine Sects and One Union—kids trained there are all humble.”
“They’ve inherited the line of the Immortalists. And no, they’re not all humble.”
“Better than the Seven Great Clans. Ah, you should’ve seen them at the gathering—pride stacked to the rafters, and every last one of them green.”
“They are literally young.”
“They’re the children of great houses.”
“Frogs in a well.”
“Nicely put.”
“I’m the Iron Cudgel Beggar, after all.”
Ga Deoksang stretched.
“Nggh—anyway, that was a good meal. I should get going.”
A tinge of regret crossed the Iron Cudgel Beggar’s face—though his eyes shone brighter than the sun.
“Already?”
“Want me to stay longer?”
“…”
“You’re subtly hurting my feelings here. Forget it! I’m busy too!”

“Heh heh.”
Still chuckling, the Iron Cudgel Beggar tilted his head.
“So where to?”
“Where else? Off to meet the mad lion. Looks like I’ll be drifting without a set destination again.”
“It’s not ‘mad lion.’ It’s the Gale Lion.”
“Same difference. Oh, and…”
Ga Deoksang’s eyes went cold.
“Give the Yeon Clan Lord a hand for a while. The Tongcheon Corps won’t be able to do their job; it’ll be rough.”
 
****
Vwooom—
The axe cleaving the air made a sound so heavy it brimmed with menace.
“Huff.”
Lose focus for a moment and your breath would skip. The single blow was so powerful and extreme that, even after winding his stamina up this far, unfolding the art was difficult.
But that was fine.
Jade Wave True Qi was a rare divine skill. The stability of Jade Wave’s True Formula didn’t stop at inner energy; it acted across the whole body.
Harder, faster, more extreme.
It was a divine art that held you steady, so your body wouldn’t break even when you crossed the line. And with the boundless Black Tortoise Qi on top of that, he’d adapt quickly.
Just when he’d been thinking it was about time to start lifting the axe in earnest, a gift had arrived. He felt a fresh gratitude to his father.
Vwoooom— hiss—
After swinging the great weapon for a long stretch, it felt as if every joint in his body were being pulled free.
‘One last time.’
A hard light came over sweat-wet Yeon Hojeong’s face.
‘White Tiger.’
Thud!
His momentum flipped.
From savage and explosive, it shifted at once to grand, surging, and unyielding.
The axe held in both hands churned up a brutal wind.
Ffftftftft! KWAANG!
The massive blade bit into the ground. The broad axe-edge burrowed halfway into the earth.
The power was tremendous, but Yeon Hojeong’s face filled only with regret.
“As I thought, it won’t do.”
Without generating White Tiger Qi, it was hard to draw out the White Tiger’s true formula.
He could borrow the form, but not bring out its true force. Each of the Four Spirit Arts’ forms was steeped in difficulty and profound strain; without the matching directional qi, the power wouldn’t live.
‘For now, I’ll have to settle for the Beast Spear.’
The Beast Spear Method simplified the White Tiger’s form. Thanks to that, it paired well with any inner art, but its level fell well short of the White Tiger’s own art.
Of course, in itself it was still a first-rate martial art—more than serviceable.
Yeon Hojeong shook the axe free of the ground and drew a deep breath.
‘Don’t get anxious. I have to be quick, but not hasty.’
He recalled his master’s words.
‘People say you must abandon desire to finally gain one thing. Wordplay. Desire begets will, and will fans passion. What one gains by abandoning desire is only regression. You do, however, have to beware of hurry. Quick and hasty are not the same. Learn the difference, and your growth will take on momentum.’
He had never forgotten a single word his master said.
The man was a divine being. Not only the Four Spirit Arts; he possessed innumerable peerless arts the world had forgotten—a God of War.
Among them, the Four Spirit Arts needed no defense as the supreme canon. From the perspective of the martial way, his master had said, they were the most ideal.
But even though he practiced the Four Spirit Arts himself, the master hadn’t been fond of them.
‘The Four Spirit Arts were forged in a time of chaos—a hellish age of unending war. Their very birth was a discipline to destroy the enemy. As martial arts they approach perfection, but they do not seek anything beyond being human. So I cherish them—and at the same [N O V E L I G H T] time, I loathe them.’
His master carried the line of the Immortalists. A man who sought to shed the human frame and ascend; it was no wonder he saw the Four Spirit Arts dimly.
‘Well, the master was a strange one regardless. He pursued nonaction-in-nature and was still too human.’
The thought raised a question.
‘Where is the master now?’
He was one who wandered the world, following wind and cloud. Even if he went to the place they’d met before, the master likely wouldn’t be there.
Yeon Hojeong’s eyes deepened.
‘Will I see him? In this life?’
He didn’t know how he had returned to the past. But since he had, couldn’t he meet the master again?
‘Just once—I want to see him.’
After years of training him in the Profound Origin Sandalwood Divine Art and the Four Spirit Arts, the master had left one day. Without a word. Without a letter.
It was in his nature. He understood—but the sense of desertion was unavoidable.
Yeon Hojeong shook his head.
“If the thread of fate runs, we’ll meet.”
Just then, a voice full of mischief came.
“Who’s that? Got a pretty girl hidden away?”
Yeon Hojeong let out a brief laugh.
“What pretty girl would spare me even a glance?”
“Bull. Don’t go saying crap like that outside. Are you teasing me, or what?”
“I’m a madman lugging an axe the size of a person. What proper woman would throw me a coy look?”
“Heh. Fair.”
Ga Deoksang whistled.
“Seeing it like this—it really is monstrous. How many catties is that thing?”
“Eighty catties, give or take.”
“So no different from swinging a person around. Your joints’ll be wrecked when you’re old.”
“Not my concern.”
“By the way, what on earth are you cultivating? No matter how I look, that isn’t the Yeon Clan’s art.”
“Such things exist.”
“Ha! A young man with that many secrets?”
“There’s a place where the entire clan sets out to deceive others.”
Ga Deoksang’s eyes went deep.
He understood they were talking about the Mo Yong Clan.
“About time you set out?”
“Yes.”
“Bored anyway—shall I tag along to your destination?”
“Not busy?”
“You’re really going to keep playing hard like that? You’ve been riding my coattails a lot lately. You should be bowing and saying thank you.”
Yeon Hojeong smiled.
“I don’t bow—but thank you.”
“Forget it! Just don’t refuse when I need a favor someday.”
“Of course.”
Ga Deoksang chuckled.
By sunset, the woods behind Ancient Sun Pavilion were already dim.
“Right, let’s go.”
“Let’s.”
Just then—
Fweeeee!
Ga Deoksang’s eyes flashed.
“Danger!”
CLAAANG!
A keen longsword smashed against the broad axe-blade.
Tiiing!
The unknown assailant fell back at frightening speed, then surged in again, blade lashing.
It was a fast, fierce sword method. He didn’t have much inner energy, but the spring in the true energy laid on the sword drew involuntary admiration.
Yeon Hojeong hewed the axe with power.
CHAJAJAJANG!
An eighty-cattie heavy weapon moved like a swift sword, beating away the strikes.
Parrying the storm of cuts in a sweep, Yeon Hojeong unleashed a single blow like a gusting tempest.
BOOM!
With an explosive report, fallen branches scattered in all directions.
Hoooong—
The swordsman flew back lightly, then righted himself with nimble poise.
Ga Deoksang’s eyes went wide.
“Huh? What the—Second Young Master?!”
The swordsman—Yeon Jipyeong—straightened.
His gaze was clear and calm.
“As expected, you’re incredible, Brother.”
Yeon Hojeong stroked the axe’s haft.
“You too were splendid. I hadn’t seen your martial art of late—I didn’t expect you to have grown this much in so short a time.”
“There’s someone I can’t help but chase hard. When the older brother is too extraordinary, the younger gets tired.”
Srring.
Sheathing his sword, Yeon Jipyeong pressed his hands together politely.
“Are you going?”
“I am.”
There was no grievance or reluctance in Yeon Jipyeong’s eyes. He had already washed them clean.
Seeing that look in his brother’s eyes, Yeon Hojeong felt proud.
“You could’ve at least said a word before leaving.”
“I’ll be back soon—why bother.”
“Very you.”
Smiling, Yeon Jipyeong watched Yeon Hojeong—and his eyes began to tremble. He’d thought he had settled his feelings; it seemed not.
He bowed, cupping his fists in salute with crisp form.
“Return safe, Brother.”
No answer came back.
After bowing for a long moment, Yeon Jipyeong straightened.
Yeon Hojeong and Ga Deoksang were already gone.
“…A firstborn is a firstborn. Like Father—cold.”