My Father Is the Number One Under Heaven - Chapter 58

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

Episode 58. Continuous Elimination Tournament
Blood sprayed across the Sparring Arena.
“Ugh—”
A deep wound opened along Peng Dohwan’s arm.
Though it was only a wooden sword, unleashing the Sharp Blade Technique infused with Internal Energy could cost a man his life, which made it a forbidden move—yet the opponent had deployed it without hesitation.
Simply because he’d lost his temper.
“Dohwan!”
The Baekrang Corps members rushed onto the platform, binding Peng Dohwan’s wound and stanching the bleeding.
“This won’t do. Get him to the Medical Chamber now!”
As Oh Chaemu barked orders, several of the Baekrang Corps hoisted Peng Dohwan and sprinted from the arena.
“What in the hell is this? Are you trying to provoke us?”
“So we ask nicely and suddenly we’re a joke to you? I swear, if you keep this up, I’ll slit your throats where you stand!”
Gu Taesan and the rest of the Baekrang Corps barked like rabid dogs, ready to charge at any moment.
“Oh, how scary. What’s with all the noise?”
“Right? Frightened dogs always bark the loudest. These things happen in a match. Why the hysteria over a little blood?”
The Sarim Dan showed not a trace of remorse, laughing and sneering at the Baekrang Corps instead.
Then,
“Enough.”
At Jo Min’s single word, every mouth in the Sarim Dan fell silent.
“I truly apologize. Please accept my sincere regrets.”
Unlike his men, Jo Min offered an apology.
Yet for reasons he couldn’t name, Oh Chaemu found the apology unsettling, and he simply watched Jo Min in silence.
This wasn’t the sort of matter to accept lightly or dismiss with a few words.
And a man like Jo Min didn’t apologize so easily unless the apology itself wasn’t his true aim.
There had to be something else behind it—that was Oh Chaemu’s thought.
And he was right.
“Still, we should be grateful for small mercies, shouldn’t we?”
“Grateful?”
“Yes. No one lost a limb, and no warrior lost his life. Isn’t that a stroke of luck?”
He was spouting absolute nonsense with meticulous politeness.
And he was far from finished.
“So you’ll continue the match, then?”
“Continue? How can you speak of continuing when a man has been wounded? By your Sharp Blade Technique, no less.”
“Ha. But I apologized, didn’t I? Besides, how often will we have reason to visit the Peng Clan in the future? That’s why I’m still a bit reluctant to leave. You understand.”
Hah.
Oh Chaemu and the Baekrang Corps found themselves at a loss for words at Jo Min’s manner.
Now it was clear.
Jo Min had never apologized in good faith, not once from the beginning.
Such arrogant, senseless men.
‘It’s my fault.’
Suddenly, Oh Chaemu felt the weight of it all settling on his own shoulders.
He had made a mistake.
No matter how much they provoked him, he should never have accepted their challenge to spar.
Because he had accepted it, Peng Dohwan now lay wounded.
Oh Chaemu felt as though every bit of this was his own doing.
Desperate to sever ties with them, he resolved in that moment to refuse any further proposals from Jo Min.
But then,
“I accept.”
A voice—someone’s voice.
All eyes turned toward the source.
There stood Yeo Unhwi, a cryptic smile playing across his face.
“Daejunim!”
Daejunim?
Jo Min’s eyes lit with interest.
The atmosphere of the Sparring Arena seemed to shift at Yeo Unhwi’s arrival.
The entire Baekrang Corps brightened the moment this man appeared.
‘Ho. Now, isn’t this interesting?’
A smile spread across Jo Min’s lips.
He approached Yeo Unhwi.
“So this is the Baekrang Corps’ leader, whom I meet at last. A pleasure. Jo Min of the Sarim Dan.”
“Pleased to meet you. I’m Yeo Unhwi, Daejunim of the Baekrang Corps.”
“Unless I’m mistaken, you said you’d like to continue the sparring matches, yes?”
“That’s correct.”
“Daejunim, but…….”
As Yeo Unhwi nodded, Oh Chaemu tried to interject.
Yeo Unhwi turned to look at him and smiled—a reassuring expression.
The moment Oh Chaemu saw that gaze, that smile, he fell silent.
Rather, he had no choice but to.
Something in those eyes made him think that all he need do was trust and follow.
Conviction settled into Oh Chaemu—a sense that there was purpose behind it all—and he spoke no more.
The truth was, now that Yeo Unhwi had arrived, Oh Chaemu had no reason to press further.
“It would be a shame to end things so inconclusively after you’ve made such an effort to come. While there was certainly an unfortunate incident, I think it best we continue.”
“Ha. Now that’s what I call understanding. No wonder you’re a Daejunim.”
At Jo Min’s words, Oh Chaemu’s face contorted.
Everything that man said seemed to rake across a nerve.
It was the sort of manner that would breed enemies wherever he went.
Oh Chaemu had come to despise him so thoroughly that even his own skin crawled.
He wore courtesy like a mask while doing whatever he pleased.
Where others were openly rude and brutal, Oh Chaemu was only now realizing that Jo Min was the truly vicious one.
“Then let us proceed with the matches as planned—”
“Actually, I’d prefer we try a different format.”
Jo Min’s face turned puzzled as he looked at Yeo Unhwi.
“What sort of format?”
“Wouldn’t something more engaging be preferable?”
Yeo Unhwi flashed a grin.
“Rather than deciding winners one match at a time, why not have each victor remain to face the next challenger?”
Jo Min’s face twitched.
“You mean a continuous elimination tournament?”
“Precisely. If this is meant to be an exchange of martial knowledge, wouldn’t it benefit from a bit more excitement? Ha!”
Watching Yeo Unhwi laugh freely, Jo Min couldn’t fathom his intent.
Was he provoking him? Daring to?
This was a first, and it did give Jo Min pause, but since the other man had made the opening move, he had no reason to refuse.
“Very well. A continuous elimination tournament it is.”
***
“Blast—am I late?”
Peng Sejin arrived at the Sparring Arena in haste.
He’d heard the particulars on the way over.
When Peng Sejin learned that Peng Dohwan had been injured during the matches, he naturally assumed the sparring would have been called off.
But the matches were still ongoing.
In fact, they were just about to begin again.
“Then, who will start first?”
At Jo Min’s question, Yeo Unhwi smiled and stepped forward.
“I will.”
“You, Daejunim?”
“Yes.”
Jo Min’s surprise was plain—he hadn’t expected Yeo Unhwi to volunteer first.
“Ha, don’t let that concern you. In truth, while I hold the title of Daejunim, my martial arts are the weakest in the Baekrang Corps. I’ve only just begun learning the Peng Clan Basic Martial Arts.”
“What?”
But he’d just proposed the elimination tournament and stepped forward first?
Jo Min couldn’t begin to understand what the man was thinking.
‘Is he mocking me?’
For a moment, he’d held out hope that something worthwhile might come of this.
Irritation spread across Jo Min’s face.
Then,
“Group Leader.”
One of the other Sarim Dan members leaned in behind him and whispered in his ear.
He’d heard this information from somewhere.
“…What?”
According to what the man told him, Yeo Unhwi was someone who had married the Clan Patriarch’s daughter and, knowing nothing of martial arts, had been placed in the position of Daejunim.
Ha.
Jo Min’s face registered sheer disbelief.
This madman actually stepped forward? Ha. Utterly insane.
Wherever you go, there’s always one fool lacking all sense.
But none of it mattered much.
Thanks to this lunatic’s intervention, the sparring could continue uninterrupted.
All he needed to do was dispose of this idiot who couldn’t read the room, then keep the matches going.
“So Ryu.”
Jo Min called out to someone.
It was the name of a member from Sarim Dan known for wielding the Swift Sword with exceptional skill and brutal precision.
So Ryu would show this clueless fool a proper taste of defeat.
The match would be decided in moments.
As if reading Jo Min’s thoughts, the man stepped forward with a thin, bloodstained smile.
The two exchanged perfunctory greetings before immediately beginning their bout.
“So a gentleman who only just began learning martial arts shows no fear.”
“Does it look like fear? But the Peng Clan Basic Martial Arts is far more formidable than you imagine. More than enough to handle your kind.”
“What?”
So Ryu’s eyes narrowed dangerously as he glared at Yeo Unhwi, but Yeo Unhwi paid it no mind and chuckled.
“I was joking. Please, go easy on me.”
“Hmph. Not a chance.”
The bout commenced at once.
So Ryu’s blade flashed from its sheath like lightning, and his Swift Sword streaked rapidly toward Yeo Unhwi.
A smile spread across Jo Min’s lips.
He’d made the right call entrusting this to So Ryu.
That fool’s arrogance would soon receive a harsh lesson from So Ryu’s blade.
Whether it would be a lesson that crippled him or merely scarred him remained to be seen.
He vaguely wondered why the Baekrang Corps warriors had seemed so glad when this oaf appeared, but decided there was probably no real reason and dismissed it.
Yet—
“Damn it!”
No matter how much time passed, So Ryu’s attacks couldn’t even graze Yeo Unhwi.
The match should have been decided by now.
“What are you doing! So Ryu!”
Jo Min’s irritated voice reached So Ryu’s ears, but So Ryu could only feel bewildered.
He had no explanation for it either.
It was maddening—his blade kept slipping past Yeo Unhwi as if guided by ghosts, and it made no sense.
Whoosh. Swish.
Again. And again.
He couldn’t grasp what was happening, no matter how hard he tried to understand it.
His blade, which had always struck precisely where he intended and pierced his opponent’s defenses perfectly, felt dull and heavy now, impossibly cumbersome.
What on earth was going on?
But he couldn’t afford to stay defensive.
He had to end this!
“Raaaagh!”
So Ryu roared with all his might and unleashed everything he had.
His Swift Sword accelerated further.
Fast enough that the eye could barely follow.
Yet—
Whoosh. Whoosh.
Yeo Unhwi evaded every attack with that same drifting, weightless motion.
So Ryu’s blade carved only empty air once more.
‘Insane! How is this even…!’
It felt as though he were possessed by some malevolent spirit.
In that instant, Yeo Unhwi’s sword began to move with perfect calm and ordinary speed.
“Head,” he said softly.
The word fell from his lips.
And true to his words, Yeo Unhwi’s blade moved toward So Ryu’s head.
‘Insane. Is he toying with me?’
Now that Yeo Unhwi had announced the target, that attack couldn’t possibly land clean.
Yet Yeo Unhwi’s ordinary overhead strike continued its arc toward So Ryu’s head.
He would parry it lightly and counterattack swiftly.
With that resolve, So Ryu’s eyes gleamed as he moved to block Yeo Unhwi’s descending blade.
Yet that downward strike of his, which had seemed so utterly ordinary,
came down with a deafening crash!
“Arghhhhhh!”
So Ryu screamed as his body slammed into the ground.
Thud.
He lay sprawled flat on his back, motionless.
So Ryu—one of the Sarim Dan’s most formidable fighters—had been knocked out in a single downward strike.
Everyone present, watching this unfold, felt their eyes widen to the point of splitting.
“What… what was that?”
The Sarim Dan members especially could not believe what lay before their eyes.
They, of all people, knew So Ryu’s strength intimately.
And yet,
“You’re joking? Right? This can’t be real?”
Jo Min was more shocked than anyone.
His gaze turned toward Yeo Unhwi.
Yeo Unhwi smiled faintly and spoke.
“Next.”

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