My Father Is the Number One Under Heaven - Chapter 161

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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 161. Come out, all of you!
“Silence!”
Bongseon Palace.
Screams echoed from all directions as a priestess’s severed head rolled across the floor in that ghastly silence.
The moment Saekma raised his blade and aimed it at the priestesses, their cries died in their throats.
Yet their fear manifested in trembling—every last one of them shook.
“What is the meaning of this? In all the history of Cheonma Singyoyo, there has never been a single instance of a warrior of the faith laying hands on the priestesses of Bongseon Palace.”
Wi Seollin, the High Priestess, spoke with a trembling voice, her face gone rigid and cold as she addressed the cult master.
The cult master, Gwak Cheonhu, laughed in that coarse, rattling way of his as he replied.
“Well then, I suppose I’ll have my name etched into the history of our faith. I should take that as an honor.”
Gwak Cheonhu was in excellent spirits.
This was precisely what he had wanted to see.
That arrogant face—so proud and defiant before him—turning pale and lifeless.
There was nothing, truly nothing, that could stand against overwhelming force and violence.
“One last time.”
After savoring the moment a while longer, Gwak Cheonhu spoke again.
As he did, an enormous surge of Qi flowed from his entire body.
The space itself rippled, and every object within Bongseon Palace trembled.
It was Qi worthy of one of the Twelve Supremes.
All the priestesses, Wi Seollin among them, felt the crushing weight of that power.
It was almost impossible to breathe.
“This is my final word: disregard that cursed relic and acknowledge me as the Cheonma. Proclaim it now.”
Wi Seollin understood perfectly well what Gwak Cheonhu meant by that emphasis on “final”—it was a death threat, plain and simple.
But her answer had already been decided long ago.
She drew in a breath, bit down hard on her lip beneath the crushing weight of his Qi, and slowly opened her mouth.
“As I have already told you, I…”
“Ah, ah. Perhaps you should think a little longer before answering. After all, depending on what the High Priestess says, every last priestess in Bongseon Palace might very well die.”
Wi Seollin’s eyes widened at his words.
She had not foreseen this turn.
She had already made peace with her own death.
But then.
Her gaze shifted to the priestesses.
Among them were many who were still very young—children, really.
They all looked up to her as they would a mother.
“If that happens, the lineage of the High Priestess will end in Cheonma Singyoyo.”
“Tsk, tsk. Do you think I care about such things?”
Gwak Cheonhu sneered, finding her feeble threat laughable.
“Besides, I have no need for a High Priestess who will not obey my will.”
“The Cheonma will bring down punishment upon you.”
“No matter. I will be that Cheonma today. Whether you acknowledge me or not, this is your final chance at life. Consider it my idea of entertainment. Now then, shall we begin?”
At Gwak Cheonhu’s signal,
Slice.
Saekma, his blade already drawn, cut down another priestess.
The remaining priestesses clamped their hands over their mouths with all their strength to stifle their cries.
Tears were already streaming down their faces.
How could he slaughter so cruelly those who had given their entire lives to Cheonma Singyoyo?
Wi Seollin bit her lip so hard that blood began to flow.
Already, her eyes had gone red with rage.
“Now, I’m quite curious. Will the High Priestess truly hold out to the very end? Tsk, tsk.”
Watching Wi Seollin writhe in agony, Gwak Cheonhu was absolutely delighted.
There was no doubt that he was a villain steeped in wickedness to his very bones.
In that moment,
A strangled cry.
Another priestess lost her life to Saekma’s blade.
And once more, he raised his sword.
This time, it was the youngest among the priestesses.
The girl made no sound—only tears streamed from her eyes as she stared toward Wi Seollin.
Just as Saekma’s blade began its arc toward the child’s neck,
“Stop! Please, stop!”
Wi Seollin, unable to bear the sight of any more deaths, cried out with her eyes clenched shut.
Saekma’s blade halted just before the young girl’s throat.
“I understand. I will do as the Sect Leader commands. Please, I beg you—don’t harm these children anymore.”
“Khahahaha!”
As Wi Seollin dropped to her knees in supplication, Gwak Cheonhu erupted into laughter.
Everything had unfolded precisely as he’d planned.
Now that he would become the Cheonma, all he need do was seize what had been prepared for him and claim dominion over all under heaven.
‘Ah, yes. O Cheonma.’
Before Gwak Cheonhu’s roaring laughter, Wi Seollin could only weep.
Then, in that instant—
A deep, terrible rumble shook the earth.
The ground lurched beneath them as though seized by an earthquake.
And from somewhere distant, a presence of immense power made itself felt.
Gwak Cheonhu’s skin erupted in gooseflesh.
What in the—
His eyes trembled uncontrollably.
***
Beneath a brilliant, cloudless sky.
An enormous iron gate, towering far higher than any temple pagoda, was carved with resplendent images of demons.
This was none other than the Suramun—the sole entrance to the Cheonma Singyoyo’s central sanctum.
The air here was uncommonly tense.
Of course, even in a place like the Demonic Sect, such severity wasn’t maintained every day.
But Gal Yeop, the Blood Axe who oversaw this post today, was so exacting a man that the guards at the gate took unusual care with every movement, reading his moods with constant vigilance.
‘Damn it. Of all the luck, to draw gate duty with him today. Fortune truly despises me.’
None of them showed it openly, yet exhaustion hung heavy on all their faces.
Gal Yeop, meanwhile, had brought a chair for himself and sat at ease, savoring the hour.
Other officers found this duty tedious and loathsome, but he was different.
How to put it.
Sitting at this post made him feel as though he were the guardian spirit protecting the Cheonma Singyoyo itself.
In truth, the work was hardly grueling.
So unlike his subordinates, he was passing the time in considerable contentment.
But then—
“Hmm?”
Gal Yeop’s eyes caught sight of a well-dressed young man approaching from the distance.
What’s this?
He appeared to be traveling alone, with no retinue.
Since no significant Qi Technique emanated from him, the Demonic Sect guardians at the gate showed no alarm.
Instead, their expressions brightened as though they’d found a toy to vent their frustration upon.
This was the entrance to the Demonic Sect.
Unlike other places, if the visitor was not a proper guest, they could dispose of him as they pleased without fear of repercussion.
In short, if he displeased them, they could kill him on the spot without consequence.
The gate-keepers’ lips curled upward in cruel anticipation.
“Halt! Who goes there? What brings you here?”
One of the guards before the Suramun stepped forward with an air of ferocious menace.
But the stranger paid no heed. He paused for a moment and gazed upward at the towering gate.
“Ah, so this is the Suramun. Just as I’ve heard—truly a gaudy piece of work. Built so sturdily for fear of invasion, are we? Seems a bit foolish, doesn’t it?”
The guards’ expressions darkened with anger.
To any ear, his words were unmistakably mocking.
“Do you even know where you are?”
“Of course I know well enough. The headquarters of you pathetic Demonic Sect vermin.”
“You dare—!”
Gal Yeop stepped forward then.
If he was going to kill someone, there were matters to be certain of first.
Now and then, eccentric visitors came to test their wits with provocation like this.
Acting rashly only led to trouble.
And this man’s confident demeanor was beginning to intrigue him.
“I’ll ask you once and only once. I’d advise you to answer carefully.”
“Go ahead.”
“State your business here.”
“My business? Hmm. My business, you say? Well, I certainly have one.”
“And what would that be?”
“I came here to smash the Demonic Sect’s main branch to pieces.”
“What? I… what?”
Gal Yeop let out a hollow laugh.
Of all the people he’d met recently, this one was clearly the most unhinged.
Every so often you encountered types like this—ones so desperate to die they could barely contain it.
If that’s what they wanted, courtesy demanded he oblige.
How could any single man possibly destroy the Cheonma Singyoyo?
Even the Twelve Supremes couldn’t manage it.
In that moment, he felt ashamed of his earlier caution.
“Just a madman, then.”
Gal Yeop’s eyes turned cold as he barked an order to his subordinates.
“Start by severing his legs. I want to see if he can still run his mouth while crawling on the ground like a dog.”
“Yes, sir!”
One of the warriors immediately drew his blade and advanced toward Yeo Un-hwi.
Without hesitation, he swung the sword.
He meant to sever Yeo Un-hwi’s legs in one clean stroke.
But Yeo Un-hwi caught the blade bare-handed with effortless grace.
“…!”
Every eye in the chamber widened.
He caught the falling blade with his bare hands?
Yeo Un-hwi then tapped the warrior’s jaw with a single, gentle finger.
The man collapsed without so much as a cry.
It was so seamless that it might have been rehearsed choreography.
“You, you bastard! What are you all doing? Attack him all at once!”
As gooseflesh erupted across Gal Yeop’s body and he shrieked in a frenzy, dozens of warriors guarding the Suramun surged at Yeo Un-hwi as one.
Dozens of blades came streaming toward him.
Even as death wheeled around him, Yeo Un-hwi walked through that forest of steel as calmly as a man on a stroll, tapping the warriors’ chins and bellies with light touches that sent them sprawling.
Again, none of them managed even a cry—they crumpled like puppets with severed strings.
“Ugh!”
Gal Yeop understood now.
The man who had appeared was a master of extraordinary caliber.
Yet even so, this was the Cheonma Singyoyo’s main branch.
It was far from defenseless against a single opponent.
Shrieeeeek!
He blew the whistle, and within moments, hundreds of warriors came pouring out beyond the Suramun.
Any normal man would have flinched or gone rigid at the sight, but Yeo Un-hwi merely smiled with ease, licking his lips.
“This slow, grinding battle is getting tedious. I’ve come all this way—might as well make it worthwhile.”
Yeo Un-hwi drew his right fist back slightly.
What was he doing?
But then,
Whoooooosh.
A terrible, oppressive force began to radiate from Yeo Un-hwi’s body.
Gal Yeop felt his frame shudder, seized by a bone-deep chill.
And unbidden, a single thought crystallized in his mind: he had to stop this, at any cost.
“Stop him! Stop him now, hurry!”
The hundreds of warriors, moments before at ease against a lone opponent, suddenly drew their swords at Gal Yeop’s desperate cry.
And as they surged toward Yeo Un-hwi,
“Scatter to the winds!”
Yeo Un-hwi’s eyes blazed with golden light.
Whoooosh!
He thrust forward with the fist he’d drawn back.
Then,
Kaaa-raaaaaash!
A thunderclap that shook heaven and earth tore through the air.
The sound was so deafening that men instinctively clapped their hands over their ears.
And then,
Kaaaa-baaaaaang!
The Suramun—that colossal iron gate symbolizing the Cheonma Singyoyo—shattered into fragments.
The debris crashed down with a cacophony of destruction.
The very ground beneath them still trembled, as if struck by an earthquake.
“…!”
Hundreds of warriors—Gal Yeop among them, all about to descend on Yeo Un-hwi—froze, their mouths falling open in shock.
It was something none of them had ever imagined.
In that moment,
“Well, I’d say everyone here has heard me now.”
Yeo Un-hwi drew his blade and flashed a grin.
“Shall we have some proper fun?”
Hic.
Gal Yeop hiccupped without meaning to.
Something had gone badly—very badly—wrong.

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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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