"That really does look like Alan!"
"I heard that after being rejected by Lioncrest Academy, Sirius Academy picked him up as scrap!"
"Really? I heard Duke Alice thinks highly of him."
"Duke Alice isn't infallible. If he were truly a genius, why would Lioncrest Academy reject him? They've been recruiting for years, and unless they've lost their minds, they wouldn't turn away real talent!"
"Exactly! He's just a fraud—exposed and discarded!"
As Alan led the caravan of three loaded wagons, he inevitably attracted attention. Though he was now somewhat of a public figure, the attention was steeped in ridicule and scorn.
Being labeled a failure by Lioncrest Academy was a rarity, and this schadenfreude gave onlookers a sense of superiority.
Despite the mocking comments along the way, Alan's expression remained calm.
He'd endured plenty of ridicule back in House Roan in the Northern District, and his heart had long since grown impervious to such jeers.
However, Isabella couldn't bear to see her brother humiliated. She flung open the wagon's curtain, glaring furiously at the people insulting Alan.
"My brother isn't a failure—he's a genius! Lioncrest Academy deliberately targeted him. How can you say such things?!" she snapped.
Her protest drew the attention of a red-haired youth with a gaudy mohawk. Running a hand through his flashy hairstyle, he sneered,
"Your brother's a failure, plain and simple. What, we can't talk about it? If he has guts, he should prove himself to Lioncrest Academy, not talk big here."
As the youth spoke, murmurs of agreement rippled through the crowd.
"Failures are meant to be mocked! What's she gonna do about it?"
The mohawked youth laughed heartily, igniting a wave of laughter among the onlookers.
Isabella's eyes reddened with rage as she turned to Alan,
"Brother, this guy is too much!"
Before she finished, Alan sprang from his seat like a gust of wind. In an instant, he was in front of the mohawked youth, delivering a powerful kick to his chest.
Bang!
The sound of ribs cracking echoed as the youth flew backward like a kite with its string cut, slamming into a wall over ten meters away.
Blood seeped through his chest as his body convulsed on the ground.
He was down!
Alan had attacked someone in broad daylight on a city street!
The mocking crowd fell silent, their expressions frozen in shock as they stared at Alan.
This was the imperial capital! How dare a supposed failure like Alan act so brazenly?!
"Does he have no respect for the law?"
"This guy's gone mad!"
Meanwhile, Francis, recalling his own experience with Alan's wrath after upsetting Isabella, thought to himself,
Messing with others is one thing, but crossing Alan's sister? That's asking for death!
Alan's cold gaze swept over the crowd, his voice sharp as a blade:
"Anyone else want to mouth off? You'll end up just like him."
Alan, a wielder of [Blade Spirit], exuded an overwhelming presence. The crowd felt as though an invisible mountain bore down on them, suffocating them with sheer pressure.
The mohawked youth, known locally as a notorious troublemaker with mid-tier-bronze strength, had been incapacitated with a single kick. Most of the crowd didn't even match his power, leaving them too afraid to act.
The street, once filled with chatter, fell into an uneasy silence as heads bowed, avoiding Alan's glare.
Alan's gaze cut through the crowd like a knife, his voice laced with challenge:
"If you've got something to say, step up and fight."
One hot-headed youth in a red robe, unable to hold back, charged forward, his fury blazing.
"You, a failure, dare to act tough here?!"
As he launched his attack, flames surged from his fist, forming a brilliant blaze that rushed toward Alan. The air grew noticeably hotter, the aura of his attack crackling with danger.
But just as his fiery blow seemed poised to consume Alan, the latter struck. With the force of a meteor, Alan's fist shattered the flames and sent the youth flying backward.
Thud!
The youth spat blood as his chest caved in, his clothes soaked in red.
One move.
Alan had defeated him in a single move, clean and decisive.
With a flick of his hand, Alan wiped the blood from his fist. His icy gaze swept over the crowd as he roared:
"Who else?"
The taunt was dripping with provocation, but after witnessing two brutal takedowns, the remaining spectators were paralyzed with fear. No one dared step forward.
Alan wasn't surprised. While these people might be arrogant, their respect for power ran deep.
Suddenly, a cold, murderous voice broke the silence:
"Isn't this the failure Lioncrest Academy discarded? Since when does trash like you dare to act up here?!"
The crowd turned to see three students in Lioncrest Academy's signature uniforms approaching.
"Look! Those are Lioncrest Academy's prodigies!"
"Lioncrest Academy absolutely loathes Alan."
The quiet street erupted with renewed chatter.
Lioncrest Academy students were walking symbols of genius. With them present, how could someone like Alan possibly stand a chance?
Francis and Fort, however, fixed cold gazes on the newcomers. Sirius Academy and Lioncrest Academy were mortal enemies, their confrontations always bloody.
The three Lioncrest students stood with arms crossed, exuding arrogance. The leader, a scar-faced youth, smirked viciously:
"A bronze-tier failure like you, bullying civilians? And you dare act arrogant with that pathetic strength?"
Before the scar-faced youth could finish his taunt, Alan moved.
A whirlwind formed beneath his feet, propelling him forward with astonishing speed. In the blink of an eye, he slapped the youth hard across the face.
Smack!
The scar-faced youth staggered backward, blood streaming from his nose and mouth, his swollen cheek evidence of the blow.
The crowd stared in stunned silence. Even Francis and Fort hadn't anticipated Alan's decisiveness.
Alan, not stopping there, struck the remaining two Lioncrest students with similar swiftness. Both were sent reeling, their heads spinning from the force of his slaps.
As the trio lay dazed and injured, Alan rummaged through their pockets, retrieving their gold coin pouches. After delivering a few more kicks for good measure, he returned to the wagon.
Witnessing Alan's series of attacks and looting techniques, Francis and Fort were utterly stunned.
The sheer professionalism and seamless execution made them firmly believe he was a seasoned-class thief. It was simply too smooth and practiced to be otherwise!
"Why are you just standing there? Let's go!" Alan called out, urging them onto the wagon before driving off.
The crowd, still reeling from the spectacle, finally began to process what had happened.
No one had expected Alan to be so formidable, nor had they imagined his unorthodox methods.
Not only had he easily defeated three Lioncrest students, but he'd also taken their coin pouches before making his escape.