"Ah!" The frail-looking young man clutched the wound on the inside of his left arm, crying out in pain.
The crowd that had just dispersed was drawn back again.
Many people only saw Victor Wang shake off the blood droplets from his sword, then sheathe it after blowing away the residue with a gust of strong wind.
"Do you realize that if I hadn't controlled the sword, that strike just now could have killed you? What made you disregard your life like that? Was it intentional, or just careless?"
The frail young man didn't answer his question. Instead, his gloomy eyes scanned the crowd around them. He spotted a surprised gaze, and hope rekindled in his heart.
As for whether he would have died—he had been too tense to notice Victor Wang's maneuvering at all. He shot back, "I merely questioned your outfit, and you tried to kill me?"
Victor Wang knew this matter couldn't be resolved peacefully anymore. He tried looking for the instructors who had witnessed the entire event, but a red-haired youth wearing fighting gloves and a Pyro Vision on his wrist blocked his way.
"What's that supposed to mean? Just because you have a Vision, you think you can do whatever you want?"
"Heh, that guy ran into my sword himself."
"How could anyone do that? What would he gain from it?"
Victor Wang shrugged. "I'd like to know that too."
The frail youth, still clutching his bleeding wound, shouted angrily, "Why would I run into your sword? You think just because you have a Vision you can act with impunity and treat us regular folks like dirt!"
With that statement, the ordinary onlookers immediately found themselves siding with the frail young man, murmuring amongst themselves and glaring at Victor Wang.
The red-haired youth wouldn't back down either. "I can't stand injustice. Today, I have to fight you."
"Don't you find your behavior ridiculous?"
"Ridiculous? Justice being insulted by someone like you—that's what's ridiculous. You're pushing me to anger."
"Heh."
Even someone as composed as Victor Wang was still a youth who had only graduated two years prior. Though two years of work had smoothed out his edges, having his name tarnished with no justification was something he simply couldn't accept.
"So, what if you're angry? If it's a fight you want, I'll go all the way."
With things as they were, Victor Wang had no intention of explaining further. Oftentimes, explanations are futile.
Once someone starts seeing you through tinted lenses, they interpret everything you do to fit their assumptions—just like suspecting a neighbor of stealing an axe. Unless the real axe is found, few people will admit their mistake and change.
Victor Wang thought, This guy must've just gotten his Vision. I wonder if I can beat him. Probably easier than fighting the instructors, right?
It was only then that the chief instructor finally strode over, calm and unhurried. His overwhelming presence and towering frame caused the crowd to part instantly.
"Yo, someone's bleeding—shouldn't you get to the infirmary?"
"I-I-Instructor, this guy took offense at me and slashed me with his sword! He clearly doesn't respect any of us—or the instructors."
"Is that true?" The chief instructor looked at Victor Wang.
"He ran into my sword himself. If I hadn't reacted in time and shifted the blade, he'd be a corpse by now."
"That's what he says." The instructor turned his gaze to the frail young man.
Unable to meet the instructor's eyes, the youth turned his head toward Victor Wang and muttered, "Better to live miserably than die—why would I seek death?"
"Let's say it happened as you claim—that he wounded you. What do you want, then?"
The frail youth felt someone prod his back with a sword. His little cunning brain sparked instantly.
"Since he wounded me with that sword, I want it as compensation."
At that, several sharp-minded individuals realized something wasn't right.
The chief instructor shook his head. "I refuse on his behalf. You're not worth that sword."
The frail youth's already pale face turned ashen.
Not worth the sword? What did that mean? Had he been seen through, or was he truly less valuable than a blade?
The red-haired youth was indignant. "Instructor, demanding his sword for a minor injury is overboard, but this guy still needs to apologize. He has to understand—power isn't for bullying others."
"Why are you getting involved? I like your temperament, but everything should be based on evidence. Tell me—did you witness what happened?"
"...No."
"Then you're believing just one side?"
"But—"
"Even if someone wants to throw themselves on a sword, would that really be so strange? With so many people in this world, you'll find all kinds."
"But I refuse to accept this. Instructor, are you taking his side?" Sidney finally stepped out from the crowd.
Victor Wang raised a brow, realizing this was the man who'd orchestrated everything with the oaf and the frail youth.
Still unruffled, the instructor turned to Sidney. "What are you objecting to?"
"If someone can hurt another without facing consequences, the world would descend into chaos. The strong would prey on the weak, just like during the reign of the Tyrant of the Tower and the Lawrence Clan's rule over Mondstadt. That's why the Knights of Favonius exist—to protect the people and the powerless. We must impose severe punishment to set an example."
The instructor thought, This kid's pretty good at using public opinion—first accuse me of bias, then invoke righteousness. No matter what I say now, the crowd will have lingering doubts.
"Then in your opinion, what punishment is appropriate?"
"Since the victim wants the sword, we'll demand the sword. But taking it outright may feel unfair to Dust. How about this instead? There are eight days until the selection. One day before that, I'll duel Dust in place of the injured party. If I win, the sword is mine."
Fair my ass. You scheming rat, you're just eyeing my sword. And you specifically want to fight the day before the selection—trying to injure me to mess up my chances, aren't you?
Before the instructor could respond for him, Victor Wang spoke up:
"I'll accept the duel. But if you lose, you must apologize to me and reveal everything you've done in front of everyone—I doubt you'll keep your word, though. So, let's change it. Promise, in front of everyone and the instructor, that if you lose, you'll never join the Knights of Favonius."
There are three kinds of death: physical death, mental death, and social death.
This social death isn't the meme version of "social suicide"—it's about losing one's place in their career or society.
At best, it's like getting into the police academy only to fail because of a tattoo from your rebellious days. At worst, it's like an idol's scandal, a hygiene scandal in food, or a pharma company's fraud—all leading to permanent exile from the industry.
Victor Wang didn't know what Sidney feared, but he could tell Sidney was serious about training.
If joining the Knights was Sidney's dream, then crush it.
Sidney refused, "You're the one in the wrong—how dare you make demands?"
"Hahaha, stop it already. You're cracking me up. You agree, and I'll take the challenge. Beat me, and the sword's yours. If not, I'll walk away—what can you do?"
Sidney's mind raced. He'd already challenged the chief instructor. If he didn't seize this opportunity...
"Then if I win, you also have to take off that cloak in public."
Victor Wang had already staked the Wentian Sword—he hadn't even considered losing, so he readily agreed.
"Seven days from now, Dust and Sidney will duel here. If Sidney wins, Dust gives up his sword and removes his cloak. If Dust wins, Sidney will never join the Knights. Do both parties agree?"
The instructor confirmed once more. Seeing both Dust and Sidney nod, he waved his hand at the onlookers, "Scram. Anyone who stays won't be allowed in the selection."
Sidney suddenly added, "And of course, in a sword duel, no elemental power allowed. You've got no objections, right?"
Victor Wang now realized Sidney had been waiting for this.
He hadn't even practiced real swordsmanship before today... well, he'd seen it in games, but as a complete newbie—could he surpass Sidney in seven days?
Should I try?
The instructor frowned at Sidney's last-minute condition, but Victor Wang said nothing, so he kept quiet too.
After dispersing the reserves, the instructor escorted the frail youth to the infirmary.
"You really can't judge people by appearances. Didn't think you'd be this kind of guy. Oh... then again, with that getup, I haven't even seen your face."
Sidney spat his venom with a sneer, revealing his true colors in front of Victor Wang.
"You're like a Pyro Abyss Mage in the rain—enjoy your swagger while it lasts."
Leaving those words behind, Victor Wang ignored Sidney and focused on training.
That thrust toward the frail youth had sparked something new in him. In that moment, he simply hadn't wanted anyone to die.
Twice he'd lived, and the only thing he'd ever truly killed was a Pyro Whopperflower. The idea of taking a life still weighed heavily on him.
No matter what, that reaction had been pure instinct—and the biggest hurdle in swordsmanship was body control. Without it, one had to train endlessly to become familiar.
Maybe I'm a swordsmanship prodigy?