Black and White Martial Emperor (Wuxia Novel)

Before coming here, Ming Onji had recalled a conversation with her father.
‘They won’t be able to know.’
‘You think so as well?’
‘Suppose the Yeon Clan truly rounded up every spy. Among those spies, none are tied to our main house.’
‘Could the Mo Yong Clan Lord have told them?’
‘No. The Mo Yong Clan Lord is a man with his own code. His ambition is great, but he also knows when to bow before the strong. He would never have told subordinates about his link to our main house.’
‘Then even if the Yeon side caught spies and tortured them, our main house’s name wouldn’t surface.’
‘Correct.’
‘In that case, is there any reason to dispatch the Shadow-Death Division……?’
‘The Mo Yong Clan won’t bare their fangs at us. They know force won’t work. But do you think that means we can take the Mo Yong Clan lightly?’
‘That…… we cannot.’
‘The Mo Yong Clan Lord is not a bad figure to join hands with. They’ve strained on our behalf up to now; this time we should step forward.’
‘What pretext should we use?’
‘Business. In any case the Mo Yong Clan has sent a letter to the Yeon Clan Lord—so make this contact “for business.”’
‘If the Yeon Clan’s First Young Master suspects us, what then?’
‘He won’t. From the outset, Jiangxi and Zhejiang are targets for any martial power with a little strength. There’s no reason to suspect. However……’
‘……’
‘Even if he does suspect, it doesn’t matter. The Yeon Clan will collapse anyway.’
Yes.
Within the Ming Clan, much preparation for expansion of power was already complete. Even that work far off in the Dabie Mountains had been wrapped up.
The Yeon Clan would fall. It could only fall.
Even so, after hearing Yeon Hojeong’s aggressive words, Ming Onji could not help but be inwardly taken aback.
‘He knows?!’
Right—suspicion doesn’t matter. The Yeon Clan will fall anyway.
But suspecting and knowing are worlds apart.
A person who merely suspects isn’t frightening. Without certainty, handling matters takes time, and at the decisive moment he can’t bring his full strength to bear.
But if he’s certain, the story changes.
“What do you mean?”
Contrary to her thoughts, Ming Onji tilted her head. Her face truly said she was baffled.
“I’ve no idea what you’re babbling about, little brother. Don’t tell me our main house has joined hands with the Mo Yong Clan?”
Yeon Hojeong let out a thin laugh.
“You put on a shabby act even though you know you’ve been found out.”
“‘Found out’…… I really don’t know. Anyway, the Mo Yong Clan planted spies in your house, and you caught them—yes?”
“You really run the gamut.”
It was unavoidable.
Ming Onji realized Yeon Hojeong had read her inside. She’d been so shocked she’d failed to manage her expression for an instant; small wonder he caught it.
The issue wasn’t her as Ming Onji, but her as division chief of the Shadow-Death Division.
‘How do I handle this?’
If he merely suspected, she could confirm the Yeon Clan had caught spies and send him on his way.
But somehow—by someone—this brat was outright certain.
Which meant she couldn’t just leave him. If he knew, information had leaked; if information had leaked, they had to find where it had leaked from.
In short, they had to seize Yeon Hojeong alive and drag him back.
‘We’ll deal with later matters later. Even if that Rear Beggar stirs the pot, we can just play dumb.’
Henan held both the Ming Clan of the Nine Provinces and Shaolin.
But in practical influence, the Ming Clan far outstripped Shaolin in Henan. Shaolin was Buddhist; the Ming Clan pursued worldly power and profit.
Even the Beggars’ Union would have a hard time prying up the Ming Clan’s manipulation of information in Henan.
‘The problem is……’
Ming Onji met Yeon Hojeong’s eyes.
There was no wavering in them. They were memorable eyes that laid a nameless chill upon the viewer, while at the same time holding a light that made it hard to read what lay within.
‘He knew we would come. At least he’d guessed. Because he knew we and the Mo Yong Clan had joined hands.’
If so—?
‘Did he throw himself out as bait?’
Just how solid a backing did he have?
“I can hear the gears turning from here.”
“…….”
“Curious what I’m bracing myself on?”
Ming Onji kept silent.
At this point, talking further about this matter only cost her. The other side knew, and she knew. With the truth out, the wisest course was to keep her mouth shut.
From that silence, Yeon Hojeong felt the Ming Clan’s depth.
Whether in her twenties or thirties, it was far too young an age to be active as the head of an intelligence outfit.
Talent must have played a large role in making Ming Onji the unit chief. But it was the Ming Clan that had raised her so by the book.

In a clan that touted the pure path, they had molded a child of the house into a professional intelligence operative. That alone made the Ming Clan a vexing foe.
Yes. If you didn’t know them, they could be vexing.
Yeon Hojeong opened his mouth.
“What else would there be? In the end, what a martial man can trust at the last is his own skill.”
“……Your skill?”
“You want to take me in. I, of course, don’t want that.”
“……!”
“So—let’s see the strength of the intelligence outfit of the clan they call Greatest Under Heaven.”
Ming Onji’s eyes turned glacial.
She rose from her seat, unhurried.
“Fine. Since you already know, there’s no need to keep up the pretense.”
Tss tss tss tss.
Killing intent rose off the bodies of the warriors standing behind her. They who had kept their killing intent under iron control now opened the sluice.
Whirr-rattle!
Birds hidden all through the wood startled up and flew. That was how sharp the killing aura was.
Ming Onji spoke in a level voice.
“I heard you beat Thunder Hero Chu Seong.”
“That imbecile?”
“Right—an imbecile. In the rivers and lakes you can die to a dagger swung by a child. All the more when you look down on the First Young Master of the Yeon Clan of Green Mountain—you deserve that ‘imbecile.’ But here’s the thing.”
Srrrip.
At some point, Ming Do had appeared behind Yeon Hojeong.
In the dark wood, just where firelight spread, Ming Do’s revealed face was ghastly—like a ghostly head floating on its own.
“We’re not those imbeciles.”
“Looks that way.”
“The Ming Clan’s Shadow-Death Division is an intelligence outfit. Not a combat corps. But in our line, there are plenty of times we have to suppress by force.”
“Strong, then?”
“At the very least, taking down a single pinnacle master isn’t hard. And we don’t let our guard down.”
Ming Onji smiled.
In a mood thick with killing, that sunny smile was in its own way chilling.
“So don’t waste your strength. Come along quietly.”
Yeon Hojeong chuckled.
Ming Onji shook her head.
“I know your skill is excellent. I know your nerve matches it. But once this fight starts, you’ll have trouble lasting even five exchanges.”
“Really?”
“Really. The Shadow-Death Division isn’t—”
Just then.
‘Huh?’
For a heartbeat, Ming Onji was puzzled.
‘But how did he know we’re an intelligence outfit?’
The Shadow-Death Division was not publicly known. Those who knew did not trumpet it, either. They’d all died, or the Ming Clan had them under threat.
So how?
“You—how did you know we were an intelligence outfit?”
“You can tell by looking.”
Tsssss.
A fierce force poured off Ming Onji. Stronger than anyone present here.
“You really can’t be allowed to walk. We’re taking you.”
Pabababak!
Five of the warriors scattered into the trees. They were checking whether there were any ‘eyes’ lurking nearby.
‘By the book. Painfully so.’
Only then did Yeon Hojeong lift the axe. He had been waiting for precisely this moment—the moment the Shadow-Death Division sent warriors to reconnoiter the perimeter.
Ming Onji’s voice went cold.
“Kneel.”
Wham!
From behind Yeon Hojeong, Ming Do lunged. Strikingly, the other warriors did not move.
It was a strike meant to catch him off-guard from the start. Ming Onji’s claim that they never relaxed their guard, no matter the opponent, was true.
Had the opponent not been Yeon Hojeong, anyone would have been taken by such a sudden blow.
Thoom!
Ming Do’s eyes shook.
The fist he’d shot out hit empty air. The attack that had aimed precisely at the center of the back had failed.
‘Where’d he go?!’
Thud!
“Khk!”
Struck across the back with a spear shaft, Ming Do staggered and trod on the campfire.
Ming Onji shouted.
“Careful!”
Kraang!
Ming Do groaned again as he flew toward Ming Onji.
Whoosh.
Ming Onji’s hand caught his wrist and moved gently. Ming Do’s body lifted, then, before he knew it, flipped over behind her.
It was a high-level method—like grafting a pear branch onto a tree—so ingrained she could execute it unconsciously.
Then a massive axe blade smashed down upon the fire.
Kraaaang!
A cleave of tremendous might snuffed the campfire in a single stroke.
In an instant, darkness fell around them. Eyes attuned to firelight failed, for a beat, to adapt to the dark.
‘Damn!’
Splat!
With a sickening sound, something warm splashed everywhere.
‘Blood?!’
Vvvvvmm!
All of them instinctively raised their inner force. Inner force flooding their bodies sharpened their eyesight. Only then did their vision catch hold.
But Yeon Hojeong was nowhere to be seen.
‘What—where did he vanish to?!’
Hwooooo!
A cold wind pressed in from the north.
Cold and weighty. The suffocating pressure came as a bonus.
Ming Onji shouted.
“The north! Catch him!”
Cha-cha-chak!
Fourteen warriors drew in crisp unison. Fourteen swift, keen sword-draws shot to a single point.
That was their mistake.
Kra-BOOM!
“Ghh!”
“Aaagh!”
Amazingly, all fourteen warriors cried out and reeled back. Half of them fell and landed hard on their tails.
Ming Onji’s eyes went wide.
‘What is this?!’
Whooooo.
Within the blowing wind, a transparent, blue-tinged aura rippled.
Grrrrrr!
From somewhere far off, a monstrous howl seemed to sound.
The cry of some beast no one had heard anywhere. That uncanny sound sent a chill skittering up every spine present.
It was the bellow of a divine beast that did not exist in reality.
The lord of the northern heavens—Black Tortoise—had awakened.
“If even one of you runs, I’ll kill you all.”
“……!”
“Kneel.”
 
****
The Shadow-Death Division members who had left the woods and finished sweeping the perimeter turned back toward where they’d come.
Just then—
Thud! Crack! Thud!
In an instant, three of them went down.
Blood ran from their heads. Their skulls had been smashed by clubbing.
The only mercy: they weren’t dead.
“What are you—!”
The two who had evaded the ambush whirled in alarm, scanning around them.
‘Gasp!’
Before they knew it, scores of beggars had ringed them with clubs in hand. A perfect encirclement.
“Ptui! Ugh. Damn it—it got on my sleeve.”
Brushing his chest half-heartedly, Ga Deoksang swaggered up.
“Come to think of it, °• N 𝑜 v 𝑒 l i g h t •° the gentleman had a point. The result’s what matters. Who cares about the process, eh, boys?”
“Rear Beggar?!”
“Well now—spotted me in one go? So you lot did know, huh?”
For all his unctuous expression, Ga Deoksang’s eyes were terrifyingly cold. The chill of them surpassed even Yeon Hojeong’s.
He was furious.
“Take down that Greatest-Under-Heaven signboard—and your balls with it, you filthy bastards.”
Wham!
The beggars charged.