My Father Is the Number One Under Heaven - Chapter 62

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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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Chapter 62. Not Here to Argue
The Black Slaughter Squad of the Demonic Cult.
They were renowned as one of the Demonic Cult’s most formidable armed forces, representing the organization’s apex strength.
Numerically they were merely one unit, yet examining the roster of individuals they had eliminated on the Demonic Cult’s orders revealed just how terrifying these masters truly were.
The fact that they had set their sights on the Sarlim Group meant the Demonic Cult regarded this mission as supremely important.
In truth, even without the ambush to suppress the Sarlim Group’s Internal Energy, they were never a match for the Black Slaughter Squad to begin with.
Yet the Black Slaughter Squad preferred above all to dispatch their targets quickly and cleanly.
They derived their greatest pleasure not from combat itself, but from the act of stealing their opponent’s life.
In any case, they had been on the verge of concluding every task.
They had already chosen a suitable spy candidate, and all that remained was to dispose of the rest—the useless chaff.
But then,
“What’s this?”
Every member of the Black Slaughter Squad wore a bewildered expression.
It appeared he had come alone.
Yet here was this unremarkable young fellow, brazenly displaying composure in their presence.
What? He thought he was ready?
He was either an idiot who couldn’t read the situation, or a madman with a death wish.
“That… that person!”
“Sir! Perhaps the Patriarch has also come? Where are the other Peng Family warriors!”
The faces of the Sarlim Group members, who had moments before stared certain death in the eye, brightened instantly.
They craned their necks, hoping against hope that the Peng Family’s Patriarch—one of the absolute masters—might have come to aid them.
Yet no matter how they looked around, they saw no one.
“Could it be…?”
Unbelievably, this man had come alone.
Was he in his right mind?
In an instant, every face among the Sarlim Group contorted.
It was clear he had stepped forward to save them, yet they found his recklessness utterly absurd.
Even if he had defeated Cho Min, there was no way he could triumph over all of these warriors.
And he was alone, no less!
Even if the entire Sarlim Group fought in perfect condition, they could never guarantee victory against such odds—what he was doing was nothing short of suicide.
Every member of the Sarlim Group felt as though they might tear their hair out.
“Tsk. Seems you’re a warrior of the Peng Family, coming all alone with no sense of fear, eh?”
“My, such bravery. If you’d seen this situation, any sensible man would have fled without looking back—yet here you stand?”
“Must be quite confident in your skills. Hehehehe.”
To all appearances, he was young—far too young.
Moreover, at his age, it was impossible he could be a master of such hidden depths that they wouldn’t notice.
Yet even as they growled menacingly from all sides, Yeo Unhwi simply smiled.
“Look at this one? He’s smiling?”
“Either he’s lost his nerve, or he’s remarkably slow to read a room. Or perhaps he’s drunk on playing the hero.”
One of the Black Slaughter Squad members glanced sidelong at their Leader.
He was asking permission to kill this senseless fool where he stood.
The Leader nodded, and the member immediately broke into gleeful laughter.
And then,
Slash, slash.
“Gah—”
“Kuh—”
Before everyone’s eyes, he swiftly severed the necks of two or three Sarlim Group members, then licked his blade and stepped forward slowly.
“How do you want to die? Hmm?”
He tried to intimidate with glittering eyes, but Yeo Unhwi didn’t so much as blink.
He simply watched him quietly.
“Look at him? Is he brave, or just frozen stiff with fear?”
The Leader opened his mouth, signaling to the member savoring his moment that they couldn’t afford further delay.
“Finish it already. We’ve wasted enough time on this wretch.”
“Ah, yes! Smack. I wanted to toy with him more, but I suppose there’s no help for it…”
Slash.
A severing sound rang out abruptly, and the Demonic Cultist’s head tumbled to the ground with a dull thud.
What?
The eyes of everyone present widened in shock at the scene unfolding before them.
But the Black Slaughter Squad were weapons honed for combat.
“C-crazed—!”
“No, you bastard!”
“Die! Hyah!”
The moment their comrade fell, they reflexively drew their blades and rushed at Yeo Unhwi with the speed of lightning.
“Wait, hold on! Fall back!”
The Black Slaughter Squad Leader cried out urgently.
He hadn’t even seen the man’s movement just now.
That meant the man possessed tremendous skill—he was a true master.
Reckless engagement was absolutely forbidden.
But before he could stop them, the Black Slaughter Squad members threw themselves forward regardless, and though the Leader lunged to grab them back, it was already too late.
And then,
Slash. Slash. Slash.
Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud. Thud.
He could only watch as their arms, legs, and necks were severed in an instant.
Not a single scream escaped.
Their throats were cut before they could even cry out.
So cleanly. So completely.
‘Damn it all.’
Every hair on his body stood on end.
The Black Slaughter Squad Leader staggered backward.
It was unthinkable.
In a single breath, the entire Black Slaughter Squad had been slaughtered by Yeo Unhwi.
Absurdly, impossibly, it had happened in that one brief moment of inattention.
His eyes widened only for an instant before the Leader collected himself.
No. This couldn’t be real.
They were the Demonic Cult’s greatest armed force. Such a thing was impossible.
The Leader forced himself to think differently—no, to believe otherwise.
All of this was possible only because that man had exploited a moment of carelessness.
‘I will not lose.’
He had confidence in his own blade.
His Swift Sword had cut down masters far greater than this in countless encounters.
And he still possessed one final, hidden technique.
Shocking though this was, he believed Yeo Unhwi was no true match for him.
Step. Step.
Gradually adjusting the distance between them, he began to slowly draw his sword.
And he steadied his breathing deliberately.
A moment of silence fell, and then Yeo Unhwi seemed to reveal an opening.
At least, that’s what the Leader thought.
In that same instant, his hand moved. Explosively fast.
The moment his blade cleared the scabbard, he felt it—his own victory.
Yeo Unhwi hadn’t even begun to react to his sword.
Then the world began to spin.
But,
What?
His vision tilted, and beyond it he saw a body in familiar garb lying on the ground.
Why is my body over there? How could—
Thump.
That was the end of the Black Slaughter Squad Leader.
His neck was severed without him ever knowing how he died.
A Swift Sword so fast that even he, who had mastered the art, could neither see nor feel it—unleashed from Yeo Unhwi’s hand.
And so the Demonic Cult’s Black Slaughter Squad lost every last member to Yeo Unhwi in a mere instant.
They never even had the chance to display their true strength, let alone scream properly.
Their deaths were far too wretched and pathetic to match their reputation.
“What? What? Did we… did we win?”
Having expected nothing, the Sarlim Group members stood stunned for a moment as the entire Black Slaughter Squad fell before Yeo Unhwi, then erupted into wild celebration, leaping about with unbridled joy.
“Hurray! Hurray!”
“Yes! We’re alive! We made it!”
They shouted their cheers shamelessly, caring nothing for propriety or decorum.
Even though several of their comrades had died, no one mourned them.
Truly, they were an unabashed and hopelessly selfish group.
“Haha! These bastards! They were nothing after all, weren’t they? Huh? Kack! Ptooey!”
He was a Sarlim Group member who had once bullied the Peng Family and even raised his hand to strike Yul-i.
More than that, he had been the first to step forward and volunteer as a spy for the Demonic Cult.
Grinning widely, he kicked at the corpses of the Demonic Cultists scattered about.
“I was all set to hold out somehow until my Internal Energy returned, and then I’d have wiped out every last one of these damned Demonic Cult bastards—but you got the jump on them first, didn’t you? Tsk. Well anyway, good work!”
He spouted empty boasts that rang hollow even to his own ears.
The truth was, he had seen perfectly well the impossibly formidable martial arts Yeo Unhwi had displayed.
But the reason he bluffed was simple: Yeo Unhwi would have no reason to harm him.
After all, they were on the same side—the Orthodox Faction.
And Yeo Unhwi had come out here to save them, hadn’t he?
So as long as Yeo Unhwi didn’t draw his blade against him, it mattered little how strong he was.
Thus the man was now desperately trying to salvage what remained of his pride.
Yeo Unhwi, who had been watching him quietly, tilted his head slightly.
“Why are you all so pleased with yourselves?”
“Huh? What? What do you mean?”
“Why do you look so relieved?”
“No, what are you—”
Then it happened.
Slice.
In an instant, the man’s hand—which had been flapping about with all his braggadocio—dropped to the floor with a soft thud.
A Demonic Cultist’s Sword now rested in Yeo Unhwi’s hand.
“What? That’s… my hand? My… my—Aaaaagh! Aaahhhhh!”
The man shrieked, staring at his wrist as blood sprayed from the severed stump.
Then he turned toward Yeo Unhwi and screamed like a madman.
“You—you lunatic! What are you doing?! How dare you take my hand! Aaahhh! You—I swear I’ll kill you!”
“Quiet.”
Slice.
His neck was severed in one clean cut.
Thud.
The man who had always been overconfident, arrogant beyond measure, collapsed face-first to the ground without ever grasping what had happened to him.
As his severed head struck the floor with a dull sound, silence fell over the scene.
“H-h-huh……”
The Sarlim Group members who had been cheering moments before went rigid, eyes wide and unblinking.
Their minds could not comprehend what had just unfolded before their eyes.
Only one question filled their heads: Why?
No words would come.
Watching them, Yeo Unhwi smiled coldly.
“Why are you shocked? I just cut down the Demonic Cultists, and now I’ve cut down a piece of trash who volunteered as their spy—that’s all.”
“…!”
Gulp.
The faces of the Sarlim Group members drained of all color.
They had all seen it. Everything.
The one who had just volunteered as a spy for the Demonic Cult wasn’t only the man who lay dead. They had done the same thing themselves.
Death’s shadow loomed once more.
They couldn’t die like this. Not now.
Somehow, they had to survive.
“P-please, this is unjust! We didn’t want to do this!”
“N-no, that’s right! And this is a matter for the Martial Alliance to judge! It’s not your place to act! Before the Alliance even has a chance to decide, you dare cut down our members who belong to the Martial Alliance? Nothing short of madness—”
Slice. Slice.
The two men who had confronted Yeo Unhwi without reading the situation had their heads severed and fall to the ground.
Hyeeeeek!
Every face in the Sarlim Group turned ashen.
“You’re all laboring under a misunderstanding.”
Yeo Unhwi’s voice, cold and sharp, cut through to their ears with crystalline clarity.
“I am not here to debate with you.”

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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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