My Father Is the Number One Under Heaven - Chapter 63

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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 63. Were they the ones who knew that?
Right now, Yeo Unwhee’s eyes weren’t gleaming, and he wasn’t particularly angry either.
He was simply severing people’s necks as naturally as one might pour water into a cup.
That very fact sent chills down the spines of the Sarim-dan members.
“I don’t care one bit what the Martial Alliance judges or decides. I simply judge based on what my own eyes see.”
“Wh—what?”
The Sarim-dan members gasped.
Who would dare speak of the Martial Alliance in such a dismissive tone?
No one but the “Twelve Supreme Experts” would—and even they would not utter such words carelessly.
The Martial Alliance was one of the mightiest pillars supporting the entire martial world and the very face of the Orthodox Faction.
To make enemies of them meant making enemies of half the realm.
Yet this man spoke without a shred of hesitation.
And it was no act.
If anything, it seemed utterly sincere.
No matter how skilled an actor, one cannot hide the human heart.
The Sarim-dan felt sincerity in his words.
For those who had lived their entire lives revering the Martial Alliance as the sun itself, Yeo Unwhee’s manner was profoundly shocking.
What’s more, he showed not the slightest hesitation in taking lives now.
From the very start with the Black Executioner Force of the Demonic Cult, his cutting motions appeared so natural, so effortless.
Then a small smile bloomed at the corner of Yeo Unwhee’s lips.
“Are you afraid?”
In that instant, every member of Sarim-dan’s hair stood on end.
Until now, they had screamed mindlessly without sense or reason; only now did they begin to feel genuine terror from Yeo Unwhee.
Dread washed over them.
The prospect of death before their eyes was no different than before.
Yet now, with Yeo Unwhee’s blade turned toward them, they felt the weight of death far more acutely than when facing the Demonic Cult.
It was unbelievable.
“P-please, spare us! I want to live!”
“I’ll shave my head and enter a temple, repenting for the rest of my days! So please…!”
“I’ll do whatever you command! Whatever you wish, I’ll gladly…!”
To their wails, Yeo Unwhee’s answer was singular.
“Denied.”
Slice. Slice. Slice. Slice.
As Yeo Unwhee’s blade flashed, a considerable number of heads fell to the ground.
Each one met death in shameful fashion, tears and snot streaming down faces twisted in protest.
Then the place where screams had reigned grew gradually silent.
And now only one remained.
“Is this why you saved us?”
Jo Min, who had been the Group Leader of Sarim-dan, spoke with a face and gaze more solemn than anyone’s.
At his words, Yeo Unwhee let out a soft laugh.
“Who saved whom, exactly?”
Yeo Unwhee had never once said he would save them.
Yet they kept insisting on such nonsense.
They jumped to their own conclusions and then, finding themselves mistaken, grew angry in reverse.
“I simply cut down the Demonic Cult members who appeared before my eyes and severed the trash who would join them. That is all.”
“That was—for us, it was unavoidable! You understand that, don’t you?”
“No, I don’t. And is that the only tune you people know, like parrots?”
“Because it’s the truth!”
Jo Min screamed, wild with rage.
“We’re still young! It’s too cruel, too unjust for us to wither and die so pathetically before we’ve even bloomed! What could we possibly have done against such overwhelming force and violence! And we’d lost our Internal Energy at that!”
“Then why did those who knew that oppress the weak and powerless so?”
At Yeo Unwhee’s words, Jo Min flinched and shook his head.
“That’s—that’s a different matter entirely.”
“No, it’s the same. Completely.”
At Yeo Unwhee’s words, Jo Min found himself speechless.
The words struck too close to the bone.
Those who had always trampled the weak, then mocked and sneered at them.
And the weak who had been trampled bore a hellish reality, unable even to cry out properly.
They wielded that overwhelming violence with reckless abandon against the innocent and defenseless, and now that they themselves faced such circumstances, they wailed about having no choice, about injustice and resentment.
It was utterly repugnant.
“I’m not asking you to uphold some grand ideal like cooperation or justice. But as a human being, you should have maintained basic duty. And on top of that, you abandoned the very organization that raised and nurtured you as though it were nothing.”
“That… that was only to survive, to seize the right moment—”
“Survive? By swallowing your pride, playing spy to your heart’s content, and letting countless innocent people die in the process?”
“I… I…”
“Or was it only when you felt safe again, when the danger had passed? Could duty really be something you observe piecemeal, calculating every condition? Is that what human duty means?”
Jo Min opened his mouth, but no words came.
Yeo Unwhee, watching him, spoke in a voice of absolute coldness.
“If you had held fast to your principles to the very end, you would have lived. That much is true.”
Jo Min’s eyes widened.
His entire body trembled.
Yes. Everything this man says is right. But—
“Heaven granted me strength, so I wielded it, and facing death, I simply wanted to live! That is human nature, is it not? What wrong have I committed?”
Jo Min cried out in a frenzy.
“If you had only rescued us sooner, we would never have made such a choice! Who are you to judge me, to test me? By what right!”
“This is rich. Now you’re blaming me?”
Yeo Unwhee laughed as though he found it absurd.
“Don’t speak as if I forced that decision upon you. You chose. All of it was your choice.”
In truth, Yeo Unwhee already knew that Jo Min would become a spy for the Demonic Cult.
It was a well-known fact even before the regression.
And in no time at all, Jo Min would become a complete traitor to the Orthodox Faction, gaining infamy for ages to come as a Demonic Cult member.
Though Yeo Unwhee had never met Jo Min before the regression, he knew his dark reputation well.
The Blood Flower Young Master—Jo Min.
The number of innocent people who died by his hand was beyond counting.
Until his life finally ended by the Sword Emperor’s hand, he never ceased his wickedness.
Knowing that future, Yeo Unwhee had waited and watched nonetheless.
To see if the Sarim-dan, and Jo Min, would make the same choice this time. And he had hoped—truly hoped—they would choose differently.
Had they done so, for all their arrogance and ruthlessness and vice, they would not have been cut down so completely.
But whether fortunately or unfortunately,
they made the very choice Yeo Unwhee had foreseen.
And now it could not be undone.
Evil had to be severed before it took root.
In this world, he would never gain that dark renown.
“You might feel wronged. You might even feel bitter.”
At Yeo Unwhee’s words, Jo Min lifted his head to face him.
“But each person bears the responsibility for their own choices. So go now, in peace.”
Without further delay, Yeo Unwhee’s blade flared with light.
In that instant, Jo Min sensed death.
‘Why here… why…?’
His eyes flew wide open.
“Damn it…”
The face of the arrogant prodigy who had dreamed of a brilliant future was swallowed by despair.
And then,
Slice.
It was finished.
His head fell to the ground with a dull thud.
Even at the moment of death, his eyes remained open—a face twisted by profound injustice and bitter resentment.
Truly a bitter irony.
Only Yeo Unwhee, who already knew the future, understood that his resentment was not justified.
Breathe.
With Jo Min’s neck severed as his final stroke, Yeo Unwhee quietly cast the Demonic Cult member’s blade to the ground.
“The Black Executioner Force and the Sarim-dan clashed fiercely here until the very end, achieving mutual destruction.”
Who was he speaking to?
And yet,
“Yes… brother. It will be done as you say.”
A figure emerged from the shadows.
It was Peng Sejin, the Crown Prince of the Hebei Peng Clan.
***
“Heh, heh, heh…”
At the scene where the Demonic Cult’s Black Executioner Force and the Sarim-dan lay as corpses,
Peng Sejin, emerging behind Yeo Unwhee, let out a low chuckle.
But that wasn’t all.
Behind him stood O Chaemu, Peng Dohwan, and Gu Taesan.
Their faces were uniformly shocked and furious.
Outrageous—absolutely outrageous.
They had all witnessed firsthand the depravity of the Demonic Cult’s Black Executioner Force and the brazen, grotesque treachery of Sarim-dan.
“Damn these wretches! How could anyone betray so readily? How can humans sink so low?”
“And racing over each other like that just to save their own hides—it was like watching demons squabble. Sickening, truly. Especially after all those years they spent parading around with the Martial Alliance’s backing. How could they…?”
“No matter how precious life is, there are lines you simply don’t cross. They crossed theirs long ago. Even if they lose their heads, they have no grounds for complaint.”
But this was the Demonic Cult.
The Demonic Cult—a name so vile that men hesitated even to speak it aloud.
To see them begging for their lives, without the slightest hesitation casting aside the Orthodox Faction and all its principles, was revolting beyond measure.
It was a corruption no one would dare to wish upon themselves, even in nightmare.
Every face in that place bore the look of someone whose skin had been fouled by filth.
“But then—why conceal the truth and announce it as mutual destruction? If we do that, Sarim-dan becomes a hero of the Orthodox Faction.”
Gu Taesan couldn’t fathom it.
His instinct was to lay it bare, to strip the mask from these rot-hearted dogs and let the Orthodox Faction see what they truly were.
Peng Sejin shook his head.
“It’s not wise for the Orthodox Faction, nor for the Martial Alliance. And if we expose the truth, the Alliance’s credibility will crumble.”
Not that he particularly cared about preserving the Martial Alliance’s standing.
After all, they were the ones who had nurtured rot-filled vermin like Sarim-dan in the first place.
But when forced to choose between protecting the credibility of the Demonic Cult’s opposition and that of the Orthodox Faction, the answer was obvious: the Orthodox Faction came first.
Beyond that, the bare facts were simply too ugly to reveal.
The Martial Alliance might well deny them outright. Worse still, they could turn the tables and accuse Yeo Unwhee of overstepping his authority in executing them on the spot.
In other words, it would become far more trouble than it was worth.
This way was cleaner.
And in any case, Sarim-dan had already paid the price with their lives.
“But still…”
Gu Taesan’s expression made clear he remained unsatisfied.
Yeo Unwhee gave his shoulder a light tap in understanding.
“True enough, the notion of these rotting corpses being remembered as heroes is distasteful. But.”
Yeo Unwhee’s lips curved upward in a thin smile.
“What use is a hero’s name to the dead? None whatsoever, isn’t that so?”
Any such honor was theirs to keep—it cost him nothing.
Let those who had descended into hell be all the more tormented by it.

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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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