Black and White Martial Emperor

Ghostfire Pavilion, which had been fairly noisy only moments ago, fell deathly silent once more.

The people descending the stairs stared at Gangryang in shock.

The Ghost-Iron Sword Gate.

Before its destruction, it had been one of the few true sects acclaimed as the finest sword sect in the Dark Path martial world.

Its reputation had rivaled that of the Nine Great Sects of the orthodox martial world. The swordsmen of the Ghost-Iron Sword Gate had also been known for their bold, forthright temperaments, earning boundless respect among those of the Dark Path.

And now the Young Sect Master of that very Ghost-Iron Sword Gate had appeared in Ghostfire Pavilion.

More shocking still was Jeon Hong calling Gangryang the heir of a rebel sect.

Jeon Hong, disciple of Yangcheon—the current ruler of the Dark Path alliance and one of the Thirteen Seats of the Supreme Heavens.

Gangryang, a rising young martial artist born of what had once been the foremost sword sect of the Dark Path.

FWOOSH!

The murderous tension thickened into palpable pressure, bearing down on the entire restaurant.

Amid that crushing atmosphere, Yeon Hojeong clicked his tongue.

So this isn't going to end quietly.

Before they came here, Gangryang had said he had only visited Ghostfire Pavilion three or four times, and even then he had never gone out of his way to reveal his identity.

Gangryang had spent most of his teenage years in seclusion, devoted entirely to cultivation and sword training. Even with the Dark Path martial world's extensive intelligence networks, relatively few people knew his face.

Well, I suppose it doesn't matter.

He had intended to meet Yangcheon anyway. It made little difference how they became entangled.

There was only one thing to consider.

I should pay attention to how Yangcheon regards this disciple of his.

Yeon Hojeong once again studied Jeon Hong's eyes and demeanor.

It took him only a moment to reach a conclusion.

The Yangcheon of today wouldn't be particularly fond of someone like him.

Yangcheon was not an ally. He was unquestionably an enemy, yet not to the point that Yeon Hojeong would call him a nemesis or a mortal foe.

Still, Yeon Hojeong understood Yangcheon to a certain degree. Yangcheon probably understood him nearly as well.

Did he teach him without ever growing attached?

Yeon Hojeong inwardly shook his head.

Come to think of it, when the Evil-Smiting Corps had experienced its first real battle, there had been a madman there who had, at least once, been Yangcheon's disciple.

Everyone had called the man Yangcheon's disciple. Yet that madman had been even older than Buseon.

If he had been Yangcheon's first disciple, Yangcheon would not have simply let matters stand.

So he's taken countless disciples, but once they go rotten, he no longer considers them disciples at all?

Perhaps that was only fitting for the supreme leader of the Dark Path martial world, where survival belonged to the strong.

Whatever the case, this isn't going to end amicably.

Just then, Jeon Hong spoke.

“Pavilion Master.”

“Y-Yes?!”

“That bastard's got quite a vicious look in his eyes, doesn't he? Doesn't seem like we can simply let this pass. Ink Dragon Manor will compensate you for whatever gets broken, so don't worry too much.”

The Pavilion Master's face went pale.

That was the end of it. Jeon Hong neither looked at him again nor addressed him further.

Instead, he spoke to Gangryang.

“I was wondering whether I should buy Master a gift on the way back. Looks like I got lucky. What do you say? Come quietly, and at least you won't lose your head right away.”

Gangryang gave him a cold smile.

“Even a rotten fish is still a fish. Since you're a disciple of Yangcheon, it'd be rude of me to send you off untouched. Can you use chopsticks with your left hand? I was thinking of cutting your right arm off nice and clean.”

The mocking smile vanished from Jeon Hong's face.

He was not the only one. Everyone who heard Gangryang's words went deathly pale.

“......”

A strange silence settled over the room.

Jeon Hong spoke.

“Pavilion Master.”

“......Yes?”

“Clear everyone out and lock the doors.”

The Pavilion Master flinched.

Jeon Hong's meaning was obvious.

He intended to beat Gangryang half to death right here.

That was when Yeon Hojeong spoke.

“Ryung.”

Without taking his eyes off Jeon Hong, Gangryang answered.

“Yes, Brother?”

“I've got enough money on me to cover a few stairs and one wall.”

It came completely out of nowhere.

This time, however, Gangryang seemed to understand Yeon Hojeong immediately. A cold smile spread across his face.

“I knew I could count on you.”

“I'm dependable like that.”

“Then I'll leave the riffraff to you.”

Yeon Hojeong gave Gangryang a light pat on the back.

“Go.”

At that instant—

BOOM!

Gangryang shot forward like a streak of light and seized Jeon Hong by the collar.

It was an astonishing burst of speed. Even Jeon Hong had not expected Gangryang to move so quickly; his eyes widened slightly.

Gangryang's feet exploded with force.

CRRRAACK!

Five or six steps shattered in an instant, unable to withstand the violence of his explosive charge.

And he did not stop there.

Still clutching Jeon Hong by the collar, Gangryang surged up to the fourth floor and, without losing any momentum, drove him straight toward the wall beside the windows.

BOOOOM!

The fourth-floor wall exploded apart, and the two men flew out of Ghostfire Pavilion.

It had all happened in the blink of an eye. Everyone stared up toward the fourth floor in shock.

“Third Young Master!”

“Damn it!”

The thirty-odd warriors hurried toward the stairs.

SHING.

Yeon Hojeong was already standing on the third floor, looking up at them with the Black Dragon Axe in his hand.

His speed was terrifying. None of them had even noticed when or how he had moved there.

Yeon Hojeong spoke.

“This is a place of business. I'd rather not turn it into a sea of blood, so let's take this outside.”

The warrior at the front, Yang Il, spat out a curse.

“You bastard! Are you begging to die?!”

Yeon Hojeong regarded Yang Il with calm eyes.

Yang Il was about to curse again and throw a punch when every hair on his body suddenly stood on end.

THUD!

Without even realizing what he was doing, Yang Il dropped onto the stairs.

All strength had vanished from his legs.

“T-Team Leader?!”

“Are you all right?”

Yang Il could not answer the concerned men around him.

Tremble.

His eyes shaking, he stared at Yeon Hojeong.

Yeon Hojeong's gaze remained clear and deep.

But Yang Il saw the unimaginable Killing Intent lurking within those eyes.

There stood a monstrous being so far beyond them that they would be hard-pressed to leave even a scratch on him.

“Or should you all just die here?”

“......!!”

“If we fight outside, you'll probably spend a few months recovering from broken bones. If we fight here, every last one of you gets chopped to pieces.”

He revealed no qi wave. He did not even release Killing Intent.

He simply spoke in a perfectly tranquil voice.

That made the words all the more terrifying. They carried the absolute confidence of a man for whom slaughtering them all would be effortless.

Cold sweat drenched Yang Il's entire body.

He's a master! A terrifying one!

At that moment, the other warriors shouted.

“What kind of bullshit is that mad bastard spouting?!”

“Kill him!”

Then—

THUD-THUD-THUD-THUD!

With a rapid series of vicious impacts, a woman came down over the underside of the staircase ceiling.

It was Jeongan.

At some point, a sword had appeared in her hand.

It remained sheathed, however, inside a scabbard engraved with elegant antique patterns.

SWISH.

The instant Jeongan came to stand beside Yeon Hojeong, five warriors who had been rushing him collapsed where they stood.

Every one of them had been knocked unconscious.

Yeon Hojeong glanced at Jeongan.

“Not bad.”

“Thank you.”

“Your control has gotten pretty good. You were awfully confused when we fought back in Guangdong.”

“This time, I decided not to hold back halfway while subduing them.”

Yeon Hojeong chuckled and looked back at Yang Il.

Yang Il had already raised one hand, stopping his subordinates from moving.

Yeon Hojeong turned away.

“Come outside. Oh, and Pavilion Master.”

He drew a purse of gold from inside his robe and handed it to the Master of Ghostfire Pavilion.

The Pavilion Master accepted it with a bewildered expression.

“There should be more than [N O V E L I G H T] enough in there. Use it to repair the stairs and the wall.”

“Ah...... th-thank you.”

The Pavilion Master answered without even thinking.

Yeon Hojeong regarded him for a moment before adding,

“And Pavilion Master.”

“Yes?”

“I understand you were afraid someone might harm you, but perhaps you should reconsider how you run this place. If you keep doing things this way, eventually your customers will stop coming altogether.”

Yeon Hojeong smiled.

“This is Ghostfire Pavilion, isn't it? Not Ink Dragon Pavilion.”

The Pavilion Master's eyes trembled.

In that instant, he heard his father's voice in his mind—the father who had once promised to hand the business over early, only to change his mind and hold on for another five years before finally returning to his hometown.

“Bowing your head can become a habit. Your life? Of course it's important. But a merchant is still a human being. If fear of harm teaches you to bend your knees at every turn, one day you'll lose everything. And long before that happens, your self-respect as a man will already have hit rock bottom.”

“If you can't endure it, close the business. If you can endure it, then don't accommodate demands that go beyond all reason. If the day comes when your own misjudgment truly puts your life in danger, then kneel. There is no shame in that.”

“Remember this. A merchant's weapons aren't swords, but judgment and decisiveness. Do whatever you must to survive, but never destroy your own character and conscience in the process.”

The Pavilion Master stared blankly at Yeon Hojeong.

Yeon Hojeong turned to Jeongan.

“Let's go.”

“Yes.”

The two headed toward the stairs leading to the second floor.

Then—

“You bastard!”

WHOOSH!

One of the warriors launched himself through the air, swinging a dagger at the crown of Yeon Hojeong's head.

It was a surprisingly sharp ambush. He had seen the abilities of both Yeon Hojeong and Jeongan and still dared to attack, so if nothing else, his nerve deserved some recognition.

Of course, the consequences of that choice were entirely his own.

THUD!

With a brutal impact, the warrior spun through the air and crashed to the floor.

His face was horribly caved in.

The handle of the Black Dragon Axe had smashed through his cheekbone and into his skull.

Drip. Drip.

Red blood spread across the floor.

Yeon Hojeong looked down at him with cold eyes, then turned toward Yang Il.

Yang Il shouted reflexively.

“I-I didn't order him to do that!”

“Clean it.”

“......What?”

“Clean up the blood, carry the body, and come outside. You can't expect the Pavilion Master to do it.”

“......?!”

“Move. Or do you want me to make all of you look the same? Though I have to admit, even you lot can see he's become quite a bit more handsome, right?”

Yang Il sprang to his feet, ordered his men to carry the corpse, and hurriedly began cleaning the blood.

That single exchange had driven the truth deep into their bones.

These people were terrifying masters—so far above them that it would hardly be strange for them to regard men like themselves as mere trash.

Strong before the weak, weak before the strong.

The world might run on the law of the strong devouring the weak, but their behavior was still pathetic enough to draw a hollow laugh.

If they served beneath a disciple of Yangcheon, they should never have shown such disgrace in front of others.

They're not from Ink Dragon Manor.

Warriors actually trained at Ink Dragon Manor would never conduct themselves like this.

Jeon Hong had most likely recruited these men while traveling elsewhere.

Yeon Hojeong clicked his tongue without meaning to.

“At this rate, I might actually end up giving Manor Lord Yang a gift.”

Gangryang would not kill Jeon Hong.

He possessed at least that much judgment.

Which meant this whole affair would ultimately benefit Yangcheon.

If it made him clearly recognize his disciple's shortcomings and cut Jeon Hong loose, so much the better.

And if Jeon Hong himself changed because of what happened here, then it would amount to a proper correction of his path.

Yeon Hojeong shouted irritably,

“Move your asses and clean faster!”

“Yes, sir!”

******

“Hmm?”

Yangcheon frowned.

White Rat looked at him curiously.

“Are you feeling unwell?”

“No. My ear suddenly started itching.”

“Ah. I see.”

Yangcheon roughly scratched inside his ear, then muttered with an uneasy expression,

“Is it going to rain or something? Why do I suddenly have such a bad feeling?”