Victory Without Fighting

Andre Stewart moved.

There were no flashy moves, not even a roar. He simply stepped forward, his right fist shooting out like a cannonball, wrapped in dense pale-yellow battle aura and carrying a shriek that tore through the air as it smashed toward Leon's chest!

A High Knight's full-force blow, even without a weapon, contained enough terrifying power to shatter stone tablets and split rocks! Several cries of alarm rose from the crowd. Some timid noble ladies had already covered their eyes, as if they could see Leon's breastbone collapsing and blood spraying from his mouth as he flew backward.

Fili and the others went pale. Barton even instinctively clenched the hilt of the sword at his waist, only to let go helplessly.

Leon's pupils contracted sharply, every nerve in his body tightening to the limit! The wind from that fist struck his face, the tangible pressure making his breathing hitch. The thin dark-gold battle aura within him circulated madly, gathering entirely around his arms and chest as he crossed them to block.

"Bang!!!"

A dull, leather-striking boom exploded across the field!

Leon felt a piercing pain shoot through both arms, as though his bones were about to crack. His whole body slid backward uncontrollably, his feet plowing two clear trails through the hard ground! His blood surged, sweetness rising in his throat, and he nearly spat out a mouthful of blood.

But he gritted his teeth and forcibly suppressed the churning blood. His legs seemed to take root, and after sliding nearly a meter, he actually steadied himself by force! His feet had not left the ground!

The sidelines erupted in an uproar!

He blocked it?! That useless Leon had actually taken Andre's fierce, straightforward punch head-on? Though he looked utterly miserable and both arms were trembling slightly, he truly had not taken a second step back or fallen!

A trace of surprise flashed through Andre's eyes, but it was quickly replaced by even stronger fighting spirit. He had not expected Leon's defense to be so tenacious. That thin layer of battle aura seemed to possess resilience beyond imagination.

"First move!" Leon shouted hoarsely, forcibly suppressing the turmoil in his blood. Yet the corner of his mouth curled into an almost crazed smile. He had gambled correctly! Though the original owner had been useless, the foundation of the Hohenzollern Family's top-tier battle aura technique remained. Coupled with the fact that this body carried the bloodline of the Northern lions, its physical constitution far surpassed that of ordinary people. With all his strength focused on defense, he could barely withstand one blow!

Andre wasted no more words. With a low shout, the pale-yellow battle aura around him blazed brightly! He lowered his body slightly, then swept his right leg out like an iron whip, aiming directly at Leon's lower body! This sweeping kick was heavy and powerful. Clearly, he intended to use the impact to force Leon's feet off the ground!

Here it comes! Alarm bells rang wildly in Leon's mind. His lower body was his weakness. If that kick struck him, he would definitely lose his balance. He could not withstand it head-on!

Just as Andre's sweeping kick was about to hit him, Leon made a move no one had expected! He neither chose to block nor jumped backward—doing that would mean immediate defeat. Instead, he suddenly threw himself sideways! But he did not fully fall. In the midst of the dive, he slammed one palm against the ground and used the force to roll past Andre's leg wind in an incredibly ugly posture, almost like a lazy donkey rolling in the dirt!

"Pfft!" Dust rose into the air.

Leon knelt on one knee, filthy and disheveled, in an utterly pathetic pose that drew a burst of laughter. But he quickly stood back up. His feet were still firmly planted on the ground, though his position had shifted slightly from the roll.

"Second move!" He wiped the dust from his face. Though the turmoil in his body had worsened, his eyes shone brighter than ever.

Andre's expression darkened completely. Leon's evasive style, utterly devoid of knightly dignity and concerned only with results rather than appearance, made him feel mocked. Especially since the other man had once again succeeded through "trickery"!

"Can you only dodge like a sewer rat? Where is Hohenzollern's courage?!" Andre roared, no longer holding back. Battle aura surged around him, making his entire body seem to ignite. He stomped both feet down, cracking the ground! Like a charging bull, he lunged forward with both fists, using a variation of the military's common War Stomp technique. With immense battle aura and body weight, he formed a crushing attack with a vast range, making it difficult for Leon to evade with another simple roll!

This was the strongest strike—and the one that would decide victory or defeat!

It's over! Fili closed his eyes in despair. The force of this blow far exceeded the previous ones. Leon had no chance of taking it or dodging it!

Even Old Harvey, the notary, frowned slightly, ready to stop the duel at any moment to prevent a death.

Leon watched Andre charge at him like a humanoid beast and felt the mountain-crushing pressure bearing down on him. His heart nearly leaped from his chest. Yet instead of despair, a gleam of scheming triumph flashed in his eyes!

Now!

He no longer tried to defend or evade. Instead, he made an even more unbelievable move—facing Andre's charge, he opened his arms slightly as if he intended to embrace him! At the same time, he used every ounce of strength to pour the pitiful battle aura in his body not into defense, but entirely into his throat!

Then, just before Andre's fists, wrapped in violent battle aura, could land on his chest, Leon shouted a sentence clearly and rapidly, loud enough for everyone to hear. The words boomed beside Andre's ear like thunder:

"Andre! Do you want Miss Mary from the bakery to see you beat a man who isn't fighting back to death on the stage like a murderer?!"

The words were not loud, yet they were like invisible shackles that instantly bound Andre!

Mary! The girl as plain and warm as rye bread whom he secretly loved! How did Leon know?! And... murderer... someone who wasn't fighting back...

Andre's mind, filled with rage and fighting spirit, felt as though it had been drenched in ice water! Leon's words were like a poisonous thorn, precisely piercing the softest and most cherished part of his heart! He craved honor. He wanted to become a respected knight, not a butcher who relied on his strength to bully a defenseless opponent to death before everyone's eyes! Especially if the girl he loved might see it!

That split-second hesitation and shock caused his previously unstoppable momentum, condensed to its peak, to suffer an imperceptible yet fatal stagnation and dissipation! The circulation of his battle aura also faltered for an instant.

And at that critical moment!

Leon's arms, seemingly spread wide to receive the attack, came down at a strange angle with faint force, cleverly catching Andre's wrists. Rather than blocking head-on, he pulled and redirected with the momentum, while his body slipped sideways like a loach!

"Boom!!!"

Andre's punch, containing all his strength, had been disturbed by his shaken mind and Leon's clever redirection of force. It grazed Leon's clothes and slammed into empty space! Violent battle aura blasted a shallow pit into the ground, sending dust flying!

Leon, though his blood churned from the scattered battle aura and he coughed repeatedly, stood as if nailed to the ground. The shockwave from the explosion made him sway slightly, but in the end, he had not moved!

Three moves had passed!

The entire venue fell deathly silent!

Everyone stared dumbfoundedly at the center of the field. Leon stood there, his clothes tattered, his face covered in dust, even a trace of blood at the corner of his mouth. He looked miserable beyond measure. But he was standing, and his feet had not moved!

Andre remained in his punching stance, his fist still buried deep in the dirt pit. His face was filled with disbelief, shock, fury, and a trace of... bewilderment. He had lost? How could he have lost? He clearly possessed crushing strength!

"Three moves have passed!" Leon endured the pain that made his whole body feel as though it were falling apart, as well as the metallic sweetness in his throat, and announced loudly in a hoarse voice. His gaze turned to Old Harvey. "Mr. Harvey, please bear witness!"

Old Harvey recovered from his shock. He looked deeply at Leon, then at the stunned Andre. He had seen the entire process clearly. Leon had not violated the wager. He had indeed only defended without attacking, and his feet had not moved. Although... his methods had been somewhat... less than honorable, using words to shake his opponent's mind.

But rules were rules. In ancient dueling traditions, psychological warfare itself was permitted, so long as it did not involve excessive power, such as magic scrolls or poison.

Old Harvey took a deep breath and declared clearly in his usual rigid voice, "By notarized judgment, Leon von Hohenzollern did not move his feet or concede defeat under Andre Stewart's three attacks. According to the agreement between both parties, this wager... is won by Leon von Hohenzollern!"

"Whoosh—!"

The silence shattered, and the crowd instantly erupted!

He won? That useless Leon had actually defeated the powerful Andre Stewart in such an unimaginable way?!

"Th-this counts as winning?"

"That's too shameless! He cheated!"

"But... that was how the wager was set..."

"Andre was too careless! He let those words affect him!"

"No matter what, he really took three moves without moving..."

Discussion, astonishment, and curses mixed together. No one believed Leon had won through strength, but none could deny that he had won this seemingly impossible wager in an extremely bizarre manner.

Andre suddenly raised his head. His eyes were bloodshot as he stared fixedly at Leon, chest heaving violently, clearly unable to accept the result. "You... you cheated!" he forced out through clenched teeth.

Leon wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. Though his condition was terrible, his back remained straight. Meeting Andre's furious glare, he said calmly, "Andre Stewart, you agreed to the terms of the wager yourself. I only defended and did not attack. My feet did not move. How is that cheating? On a battlefield, would the enemy spare you because of your hesitation and softness? Shouldn't a true knight remain calm and focused under any circumstances?"

His words lashed Andre's heart like a whip. Andre opened his mouth, only to find himself unable to refute him. Yes, he had underestimated his opponent. His mind had wavered. Those were mistakes he himself had made.

Leon no longer looked at him. Instead, he faced all the onlookers and spoke loudly. Though his voice was hoarse, it carried an unprecedented strength. "All of you witnessed it! I, Leon von Hohenzollern, may have done many shameful things in the past, but today, I upheld the agreement and took three moves! By the terms of our wager, this matter ends here! Andre, I hope you will also honor your promise!"

He paused, his eyes sweeping across the faces that had once regarded him with contempt. Slowly, word by word, he said, "Perhaps I am still not a powerful knight, but at least today, I proved that I am not without courage! The Hohenzollern name will not be sullied!"

With that, he ignored the complicated stares and clamorous discussions behind him. Forcing his nearly broken body onward, he turned and walked steadily toward the edge of the field. Every step tugged at his injuries, making him grimace in pain, but beneath the lingering light of the setting sun, his retreating figure somehow gave everyone an entirely different impression.

Fili and the others snapped out of their daze and hurried forward to support him, only for Leon to stop them with a look. He did not need support. He needed to walk back on his own.

Andre stood where he was, watching Leon's departing back. His fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white, but eventually loosened weakly. He had lost, and he had nothing to say. Complex emotions spread through his heart—anger, unwillingness, but perhaps... also an indescribable sense of being moved. That wicked young master truly seemed different from before.

Among the crowd, several nobles and powerful figures with real discernment fell into contemplation. What Leon had displayed today was not martial strength, but something even more terrifying—an exact grasp of human hearts, calmness in the face of danger, and... ruthless determination to achieve his goal by any means necessary, even against himself. Such cunning and resilience were far more intimidating than the strength of a mere High Knight.

The young lion of the Hohenzollern Family seemed... to be revealing his hidden fangs. Though those fangs still carried a hint of conspiracy.

Leon forced himself out of the training ground and turned a street corner. Once he confirmed that he was out of everyone's sight, he could no longer hold on. His legs gave out, and he leaned against the cold wall, gasping heavily, his forehead drenched in cold sweat.

"Fuck... that hurt like hell..." he cursed through gritted teeth, but a smile of survival still curled uncontrollably across his lips.

He had finally cleared the first hurdle in this disgraceful yet unavoidable way. His victory had not been honorable, but... he had survived. And the seed of a new image—one no longer defined merely as "useless"—had already been planted.

What waves would today's "victory" stir in the royal capital?