My Father Is the Number One Under Heaven - Chapter 135

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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Episode 135. When Secrets Come to Light
“Ahem.”
The Hall of the Murim League’s Patriarch—seat of the head of the Orthodox Faction, considered the pinnacle of the Martial World.
Song Il-do, Patriarch of the Murim League, was deeply displeased.
During a meeting held while General Jegal Mun was away on urgent business for the Jegal Clan, nothing had gone according to his wishes.
Even what had just happened moments ago proved this.
He’d learned that Geumcheonmun, a sect belonging to the Orthodox Faction in Qinghai, had been causing frequent trouble lately, so he’d ordered men sent at once to admonish them and prevent such incidents from recurring.
But then, suddenly, Elder Jang Cheong stepped forward and stopped him.
“Geumcheonmun has maintained good relations with the Murim League for a long time. Perhaps we should observe a bit longer. It may simply appear that way on the surface, but I’m certain there’s a reason we’re unaware of.”
Song Il-do, unable to understand why they should sit idle when the sect was already causing problems and stirring up talk, had begun to open his mouth to say more.
But then the elders all began nodding in agreement with Jang Cheong, as if with one voice.
It was embarrassing to say anything further.
With no other choice, Song Il-do cleared his throat loudly and stepped back, saying he understood.
He had no wish to damage his own dignity further.
It was always like this.
At times, it became hard to tell whether he was truly the Murim League Patriarch or if it was Jang Cheong.
Things were at least somewhat better when the General Jegal Mun was present.
‘Hmph. How could I raise my voice and object to what the Patriarch says? This is unbearable.’
For Song Il-do, the duties of Murim League Patriarch were far from easy.
He’d imagined that once he became Patriarch, people would simply revere and follow him.
But reality was not so.
Even small matters had to be decided through council, and things had to be handled according to those decisions.
Of course, there were some matters the Patriarch could handle without council, but most were settled through meetings.
Yet as is true wherever people gather, certain voices wielded outsized influence in these councils.
Senior Elder Jang Cheong was precisely such a voice.
The moment he spoke, everyone here would chime in with agreement.
Then everyone over there would chime in with agreement as well.
Sigh.
Song Il-do sometimes found himself missing those days when matters were settled cleanly by the sword, without endless deliberation.
His expression twisted without his awareness.
Yet no one noticed Song Il-do’s displeasure.
Instead, they were all busy reading Jang Cheong’s mood.
It revealed clearly where true power in the Murim League actually lay.
Yet despite wielding such real authority, Jang Cheong had always hidden his power subtly, rarely showing it openly. These past few days, however, his behavior had been noticeably different.
It was as if he were openly displaying his strength.
There was reason for this.
While Jegal Mun—normally such a thorn in his side—was absent, Jang Cheong was taking the opportunity to teach the Patriarch clearly which side he needed to align with to maintain his position.
By now, Song Il-do should understand perfectly.
Who these people filling the hall followed, and whom he too ought to follow.
High martial skill and politics were entirely different matters. In this hall, Patriarch Song Il-do was nothing more than a third-rate warrior in Jang Cheong’s eyes.
But there was a limit to how far one should push.
Even a cornered rat will bite.
“Still, I must say—isn’t our Patriarch remarkable?”
Just then, Jang Cheong belatedly began to attend to Song Il-do, whom no one had been paying attention to.
In an instant, all eyes turned toward Jang Cheong.
“Even if decisions sometimes turn out differently, the Patriarch’s judgments carry such ardent righteousness and justice—I find it admirable. Heh. Don’t you agree?”
Those who had just moments ago stood bewildered now quickly began nodding in agreement with Jang Cheong.
“Quite right, sir.”
“Indeed, who else possesses such overflowing righteousness and concern for the realm’s welfare as our Patriarch?”
“To be honest, we too wish to scold sects that cause trouble each time it happens, but the complications of competing interests and matters of position make it quite difficult. Still, we all know that the Patriarch’s words are ultimately correct. Absolutely.”
“My worry was simply that if we went and pressed them harshly, the real circumstances might be different, putting the Murim League in an awkward position. But I too believe the Patriarch’s judgment is sound.”
Those who had just moments before openly opposed Song Il-do and agreed with Jang Cheong now seemed to have forgotten everything they’d said, enthusiastically showering praise upon the Patriarch.
It was a shamelessly sudden shift.
Yet,
“Oh, no need for such words! Hahaha. I’m truly grateful that you all think so highly of me.”
At their words, Song Il-do had already begun to grin.
‘Tsk tsk. How easily manipulated this man is.’
Watching Song Il-do, Jang Cheong laughed inwardly with contempt.
Of all the Murim League Patriarchs throughout history, Song Il-do was perhaps exactly the type Jang Cheong had always wanted.
Despite his exceptional martial prowess and renown, strip those away and his shortcomings were all too evident.
A man of indecision bordering on the pathetic, timid to his core, his emotions laid bare on his face for all to read.
Worse still, he was hopelessly susceptible to praise and flattery.
Yet from Jang Cheong’s perspective, these were not flaws but advantages.
The man was perfectly suited to be manipulated from the shadows.
Years ago, when the position of Murim League Patriarch had opened, Jang Cheong had investigated Song Il-do’s character beforehand and, finding it wanting, had quietly pushed for his appointment.
Since Jang Cheong already held real power, it had been no great difficulty to ensure Song Il-do became Patriarch.
How fortunate that had been.
A man possessed of the complete opposite temperament to those insufferable Patriarchs of the Five Great Clans.
So when Song Il-do took the position, Jang Cheong had fully expected to shape more of the League’s affairs to his own ends.
He had been certain of it.
Until Song Il-do, without warning, appointed Jegal Mun as his Chief Military Strategist.
It was a development so absurd it defied belief.
Jang Cheong still could not fathom why Song Il-do had chosen Jegal Mun, but the result was undeniable: his own ambitions had been severely curtailed.
And so he had begun to watch, waiting for his chance to dispose of Jegal Mun.
Tangled relationships had forced him to hold his hand until now, yet Jang Cheong was certain that day would come soon enough.
When it did, he would purge the Murim League of every single member of the Jegal Clan.
He would do it through ‘him’.
That beast who had once brought him the severed head of his own sworn brother and offered himself as a hunting dog.
A man of the Jegal Clan, yet one who concealed behind that blank face an avarice as endless and as deep as Jang Cheong’s own.
Jang Cheong had come to think of him as nearly his own creature now.
Of course, just as Jang Cheong trusted no one easily, he did not fully trust this man either.
But while he did not trust the man, he trusted his greed.
Avarice and hunger never betray.
That was the logic by which Jang Cheong had lived.
Watching the foolish Patriarch grin inanely, now surrounded by elders who showered him with flattery and honeyed words, Jang Cheong’s mouth twisted upward in a smile.
‘Whatever anyone says, the Murim League is mine. Mine alone.’
***
The morning after Gu Wang-pyo’s visit had brought a grand feast to the Peng Estate.
For once, Yeo Un-hwi was spending a leisurely day with his family.
He had just returned from a bandit-suppression campaign and had drunk his fill the night before, so he had decided a day of rest would do him good.
Still, some of the Baeklang Dae, including Peng Do-hwan, would likely be at the Training Ground practicing their arts even now.
How one spent one’s time was a matter of personal choice; sometimes such freedom was itself a necessity.
“Father, I folded paper!”
Yul-i, who had been concentrating intently on something, spoke with a smile.
At once she came running and thrust something into Yeo Un-hwi’s hands.
But as he looked at it, his head tilted slightly to one side.
In Yul-i’s hands lay something utterly unidentifiable.
“Hmm… let me see. What is this? Not a butterfly, and… well.”
“It’s a wild boar! A wild boar!”
“A wild boar? This is supposed to be a wild boar?”
“Yes! Uncle taught me how!”
……
It looked like she had simply crumpled up the paper into a ball… wait, could that protruding bit actually be a leg?
What on earth was he teaching the child?
Yeo Un-hwi’s mouth curved upward in an awkward smile.
“Yes, yes. You did very well.”
“Hehe. Uncle said he’ll teach me even more fun things to fold next time. I can’t wait to see what!”
……
For a moment, Yeo Un-hwi found himself in serious deliberation.
Should he stop these lessons, or let them continue?
He couldn’t shake the feeling that this might not be good for Yul-i’s developing sensibilities.
Yul-i, delighted to have spent the whole day with her mother and father under the clear sky, went dashing about the courtyard.
It was then.
“Here you are.”
Peng Seo-yeon had approached and handed him a cup of warm tea.
Accepting the cup, Yeo Un-hwi spoke with an air of grave concern.
“That paper folding, you know.”
“Yes, the wild boar?”
Evidently she had folded it several times already.
“Don’t you think we should put a stop to it?”
“Ha.”
At Yeo Un-hwi’s earnest tone, Peng Seo-yeon burst into laughter despite herself.
“No, I’m quite serious about this.”
“Oh, it’s fine. Really, it’s fine.”
Peng Seo-yeon smiled brightly.
“Old Elder Gu only did it to make Yul-i happy. I think there’s nothing wrong with it.”
“Is that so.”
“Besides, children try all sorts of things when they’re young. Once they grow up, they’ll learn what’s strange and ugly soon enough.”
Cough!
As Yeo Un-hwi listened to his wife’s words, he involuntarily sprayed the tea he’d been drinking.
Peng Seo-yeon tilted her head.
“Cough, cough.”
“Huh? What’s wrong? Are you all right?”
“Oh, no. I’m fine. Ha-ha.”
His wife spoke so casually, so utterly without concern, describing the wild boar that Old Elder Gu had taught Yul-i to catch as strange and ugly.
She had moments that were frightening in their callousness.
Soon, watching Yul-i gambol across the courtyard and feeling the cool breeze, Yeo Un-hwi and Peng Seo-yeon sipped their tea with contentment.
Then Yeo Un-hwi’s gaze shifted to the spot beside Peng Seo-yeon, who gazed at Yul-i with such tenderness.
He recalled last night’s conversation with Jegal Gil.
In truth, he had been turning over that worry all day long.
‘Until now, you may have hidden your identity with ease, but ahead, it may become difficult. It would be wise to prepare for that day in advance.’

The moment he heard those words, the first person who came to mind was, unsurprisingly, Peng Seo-yeon.
He had never thought he could hide it forever.
He had never intended to, either.
But he had come this far, caught between wondering how and when to tell her.
Secrets, after all, were hardest to share with those closest to you.
The more precious that person was, the more he feared how their gaze might change once the secret was revealed.
And what secrets did Yeo Un-hwi carry? Regression. Divine Martial Power. Were these ordinary matters?
Yet perhaps the time had truly come.
The time to tell his wife everything.
Yeo Un-hwi’s eyes grew distant as he regarded Peng Seo-yeon.
And it was around then.
That an unexpected visitor arrived at the Peng Estate.

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This chapter was translated by Lunox Novels. To support us and help keep this series going, visit our website: LunoxScans.com
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