Tit for Tat

The total construction area of Saint Brieuc Fortress is less than one hundred hectares, with a permanent population of just over two thousand. It's incredibly small, not even comparable to towns with tens of thousands of people in my previous life.

A small area, sparse population, and remote backwardness—these three factors combined meant there were no entertainment facilities here.

Gilbert had just returned from the bustling Royal Capital. His only enjoyment should have been sparring with the few capable captains of the guard on his territory.

When I say sparring, I mean it was actually intended to foster goodwill and lay the groundwork for his bid to become the heir.

How could those simple men see through his true intentions? They only thought this illegitimate son had a good temper, a good personality, and was good in every way—a hundred times better than Renard.

"If Young Master Gilbert could become the lord, that would be great!"

This was the thought of the guard captains, and also the thought of all the residents of Saint Brieuc Fortress.

Renard didn't know, or rather, didn't care about others' thoughts. He walked with light steps to the edge of the training ground. Looking up, he saw several guards lying on the wooden fence, watching the excitement, occasionally letting out cheers of encouragement.

Following their gaze to the center of the training ground, two figures were locked in a fierce battle.

One of them was Wilson, the chief captain of the Saint Brieuc Fortress guard. This position was somewhat similar to a police chief in my previous life, responsible for maintaining public order within the territory.

The other, a tall and handsome young man, was naturally the illegitimate son Gilbert, the old nemesis of Scum Renard.

Wilson already possessed the strength of a Beginner Qi Warrior. The fact that Gilbert could fight him without losing wasn't because he also had the strength of a Beginner Qi Warrior, but rather because Wilson was deliberately holding back.

However, judging purely by their moves, the two could be considered evenly matched.

After dozens of exchanges back and forth, the two suddenly separated, followed by a torrent of insincere flattery.

"Mr. Wilson, you are truly amazing. Even my Martial Arts instructor is no match for you."

"Young Master Gilbert has improved again. I estimate you'll be able to advance to the Intermediate Warrior rank before long."

The surrounding guards were also full of admiration. Judging by their expressions, it was clearly from the heart.

A cold smile tugged at the corner of Renard's lips. He also applauded vigorously, but his rhythm was somewhat unusual.

Everyone's thoughts were still immersed in the fierce battle that had just ended. The harsh clapping sound suddenly startled them. They frowned in dissatisfaction, turned to look in the direction of the sound, and then their expressions became extremely interesting.

Renard swaggered to the fence, resting his arms on it, completely ignoring the strange looks from those around him.

He greeted them in a calm tone, "My dear brother, why didn't you notify me you were back? If someone hadn't happened to mention your name, I would have thought you had died out there."

The words were filled with gunpowder, foreshadowing an impending conflict.

The guards first exchanged glances and then scattered like startled birds. Judging by their panicked flight, they clearly didn't want to get involved in a dispute between two noble young masters.

Chief Captain Wilson also had an unpleasant expression. He sized up Renard, then looked at Gilbert. After a long struggle, he finally said apologetically, "Young Master Renard, Young Master Gilbert, I still have some matters to attend to, so I won't disturb you two."

With that, he strode out of the training ground.

Renard shrugged indifferently, not even looking at Wilson, his gaze fixed solely on Gilbert.

Gilbert also ignored Wilson, his eyes locked onto Renard.

The two stared at each other for a full five minutes before simultaneously breaking into smiles, like old friends who hadn't seen each other in years.

Gilbert opened his arms and walked towards Renard, his face beaming with joy, "My dear brother, please forgive my rudeness. I heard you were injured and needed rest, so I didn't come to disturb you."

Renard also opened his arms and gave him a bear hug without any hesitation.

As their bodies brushed past each other, the smile on his face instantly vanished. He said with murderous intent, "My dear brother, you shouldn't have come back. If you had stayed honestly in the Royal Capital, perhaps I couldn't have touched you. But here in Saint Brieuc Fortress, I'm afraid you won't escape even with wings."

Gilbert's expression changed drastically upon hearing this. He felt a chill down his spine. He stiffly pushed Renard away with his arms, only to see Renard's smile remain, as if the words filled with murderous intent hadn't come from him at all.

He took two steps back and silently gazed at Renard, feeling as if the other person had become a different person. Especially those eyes, which seemed to have become more refined, with all their cunning and ruthlessness hidden deep within.

He felt like he had seen this look somewhere before. Yes, it must have been when he looked in the mirror.

Scum Renard was a pure rogue and a wicked young master, while Game-Addict Renard was a scheming game addict with an IQ of 150. The combination of the two had created a new personality that would surely give many people a headache.

Gilbert was one of them. He found the person in front of him very unfamiliar. The Renard of the past was cruel and malicious, a true villain. But the person in front of him was definitely a hypocrite, just like himself.

With this thought, his smile became even more rigid.

Renard sneered and asked, "Did you get an 'Excellent Upper' grade in your year-end assessment?"

Gilbert frowned. He was unaccustomed to this condescending tone, but he quickly let it go and admitted it very openly with a nod.

His expression showed undisguised arrogance, as he had the capital to be proud. At the age of fifteen, achieving such results in a small place like the Barren Land could indeed be considered genius.

Renard ignored the other's childish mentality. He flipped over the fence and faced him, "Fight me. I want to know what you've learned at Arthur Academy. I hope Father's efforts haven't been wasted."

"Fight you?" Gilbert acted as if he had heard the world's biggest joke and couldn't help but scoff, "My dear brother, do you think you can defeat me with your half-baked swordsmanship?"

His face showed extreme contempt, clearly not taking Renard seriously.

When outsiders were present, Gilbert had to maintain the pretense of a gentleman. Now that they were alone, he naturally bared his fangs. "It's not that I'm speaking harshly, but the one who wasted Father's efforts is you, you trash. You trash, degenerate, parasite..."

At this point, his emotions became visibly agitated, even somewhat incoherent.

Renard knew the reason. The Arthur Academy he attended was only a third-rate academy on the Northern Continent, while his Constantinople Academy was a premier institution on the Northern Continent.

The treatment they received was worlds apart. The reason was simple: Gilbert was an illegitimate son, while Renard was a direct descendant of the Duncan Family.

The status of an illegitimate son was a stain that would forever mark Gilbert's life, and it was also the root of the conflict between the two.