How Could the Villainous Young Master Be a Saintess?-Chapter 106Vol 2. : Rarely Any Match

What’s that thing??

Quite a few noble youths stared in confusion at the icy pendant the Dragon-Knight had just handed to Vinny.

Could it be that Vinny’s weapon was... an earring??

Pfft, what a bizarre weapon. They thought this guy had really gotten stronger after entering Carillian Academy, but in the end, he was still this unreliable.

Seems like they’d all overestimated the worth of Carillian Academy. Hard to believe so many people actually failed the entrance exam if this was what it produced.

The group of noble youths who had not yet taken the Academy’s entrance examination all found themselves thinking such things. After all, calves unafraid of tigers.

But the noble heads of houses saw something different—they recognized that the icy pendant was no ordinary trinket but a high-grade enchanted weapon, and this surprised them greatly.

Everyone here knew Vinny’s family background—dirt poor, to the point of clattering coins. With such a household, there was no way they could have afforded to maintain dedicated enchanters and smiths. How could he have possibly gotten hold of such a rare weapon??

Of course, more than a few of them thought it through and quietly cast sidelong glances at King Friane V, who sat at the head of the banquet with an unruffled expression as he watched Vinny.

No one else had any reason to sponsor a worthless fellow like Vinny, nor would they even think of doing so. But if it was His Majesty the King—

Yes, that was actually possible.

Suddenly, many noble heads of houses had a flash of realization in their eyes.

Still, no matter how fine the weapon, if the wielder was truly nothing more than mud that couldn’t be shaped into a wall, it was useless.

Vinny thanked the Dragon-Knight who handed him the weapon, took the icy pendant in one hand, and tossed it into the air.

The pendant shimmered and transformed into a majestic crystalline spear adorned with a long blue tassel. Snowflakes scattered in all directions as the spear formed. Under the astonished gazes of the noble youths, Vinny caught it smoothly, spun it with natural ease, and in a few flowing flourishes cut apart the falling snowflakes.

“Gentlemen, a bit of after-dinner amusement. Nothing more than a friendly bout,” the Dragon-Knight reminded them.

“Mm, you’re right, sir. Nothing more than a friendly match, friendship first. So, I won’t be putting down this chicken leg—hope you don’t mind.” Vinny said, taking another bite of his chicken leg.

This bastard...

Valan’s eyes narrowed.

Where had this idiot gotten such a handsome weapon?

And what’s more—he’d tossed a few empty compliments his way earlier, and this fool had actually taken them seriously? Holding a chicken leg while fighting him, in front of all these people—who did he think he was looking down on??

“Well then, Young Master Vinny, I look forward to your instruction.” Valan said slowly, his grin stiff.

“You two, fight with your true strength,” the Dragon-Knight said. He didn’t leave, instead remaining inside the water-curtain near the two of them.

Though he had ordered them to keep it friendly, blades and steel had no eyes. If either were about to be injured, he would intervene immediately and end the match.

As an elite of the Dragon-Knights, and himself a graduate of Carillian Academy, such a minor scuffle between two youths was hardly more than raising a hand for him.

Valan gripped his black rapier tightly, Vinny’s casual, dismissive attitude stinging him like a slap to the face, stabbing into his pride.

He could stomach it from seniors who had also made it into Carillian Academy. But this guy—a complete fluke, utterly undeserving, without any true skill—how dare he act like this toward him??

And above all, this was the so-called childhood friend of the brilliant Princess herself. How was that fair??

Whether it was the title of the Goddess’s Descendant, the chance to stay close to the Princess as her childhood companion, or the Academy seat—such enviable things shouldn’t belong to scum like Vinny.

Indeed, the title of the Goddess’s Descendant was almost certainly stolen. Approaching the Princess must have been by relying on that stolen name. As for entering Carillian Academy—obviously it had been through some shameful trick.

Trash ought to stay obediently in the trash heap. Why come out here and be an eyesore??

But Valan was different. Since birth, he had grown up bathed in applause, in admiration. From uncles to servants, everyone in his family had called him a genius.

Over time, he had grown accustomed to praise and adoration, believing it only natural that his life be drenched in radiance.

The most excellent should receive the respect and envy of all, gain the finest spouse, and live a life magnificent enough to be sung for generations.

He didn’t see this as a goal, but as his natural birthright.

And this guy in front of him? Just one more stepping stone among the countless others beneath his feet. Yet Vinny had utterly failed to recognize his place.

Valan lifted his rapier upright before his chest. When the Dragon-Knight gave the word, his eyes sharpened and his sword lashed out. In an instant, dazzling flurries of sword-flowers bloomed, so many it was impossible to tell which were feints and which concealed the true killing thrust.

Maybe this guy was good at cheap tricks. But in the face of true skill, all trickery was nothing but petty sleight-of-hand.

How many so-called geniuses of his own age had Valan already defeated in duels? What was one worthless playboy of the capital? He was beneath contempt.

He was certain—once he used his true ability, Vinny’s real weakness would be exposed, and everyone would see that he had only gotten into Carillian Academy through foul means.

He would be disgraced in front of the Princess herself and all the nobles of the kingdom!

Valan’s sword was as fast as the wind, as sharp as lightning, striking like the sting of a scorpion’s tail.

At the same time, he closed the distance in a blur, moving like a phantom. He reached the perfect range for his thrust—

But Vinny didn’t even move. He just stood there, still holding his chicken leg.

Valan smirked. Couldn’t even react? He’d overestimated him.

Victory was assured—

And then... his feet froze. He couldn’t step forward.

An overwhelming sense of danger seized him. The cold gleam against his neck chilled him to the bone. He glanced down and saw the crystalline tip of Vinny’s spear mere inches from his throat.

Valan’s mind went blank. He looked at his rapier—he had unleashed countless feints, countless thrusts—and none had even come close to Vinny.

“Young Master Valan, longer reach means greater strength. You saw I had a spear and still chose to bring a sword. Not the wisest choice.” Vinny said calmly, taking a bite of his chicken leg.

“And forgive me for being blunt, but your feints had problems. Your rapier’s only so long—without magic, unless you close the distance, you’ll never touch me. I don’t need to care how many sword-flowers you spin. I just wait for you to walk into my spearhead.” Vinny tilted his head. He hadn’t meant to say anything at all, but his opponent was simply too pathetic—he couldn’t help himself.

It wasn’t mockery, just that what he saw was unbearably laughable.

Was Valan here for a duel, or a sword-dancing exhibition? Why all the pointless flourishes, as if terrified the spectators wouldn’t notice his swordsmanship before he got defeated?

To rookies with no life-or-death experience, perhaps such a storm of feints would overwhelm. But to Vinny, they were laughably immature.

Like having a reach of two meters against someone with only one, then watching as they dance at one and a half—well within his reach, but outside of theirs.

Utterly stupid. Why feint from outside your range?

His speed was fast, sure, but all that meant was he’d rush even quicker into the spearpoint and lose faster.

In short, Valan just dumped the sword techniques he’d memorized onto the field. But life-and-death battle was ever-changing, and bringing rigid forms into real combat was laughable.

Vinny had never formally studied spear arts. But his instincts, forged through real battlefields, were more than enough to deal with an “academy type” who’d only sparred in practice.

It took Valan a full second to realize he’d already lost, his face frozen in disbelief.

The spectators were no better—every expression ⊛ Nоvеlιght ⊛ (Read the full story) in the hall was remarkable.

Among the young nobles, the duel had ended before they could even process it. Valan’s loss was something they had never expected.

They had thought Vinny nothing but a cheap opportunist. With Valan’s strength, beating him should have been child’s play. The Academy seat should have already been in his pocket.

Of course, not everyone was surprised. Mirexia wasn’t. Byrne wasn’t. Eric wasn’t.

For them, Vinny defeating Valan in a single move was perfectly natural. If he hadn’t, they would have found it strange.

Some clear-headed nobles also found it a bit outrageous to win in one blow, but not incomprehensible. After all, Vinny was already an active student of Carillian Academy. If he couldn’t beat someone who hadn’t even entered yet, that would’ve been absurd.

But most of the noble youths simply couldn’t accept such a gap in strength, especially those who had dismissed the Academy’s threshold as nothing.

The heads of noble houses, of course, saw clearly how Valan had lost. But none of them could say much—not with Valan’s father sitting right there.

“That boy...” Valan’s father pinched his forehead. “Completely raw. Shameful.”

“...You cheated!” Valan burst out after a long silence, glaring at Vinny.

“Oh? And how did I cheat?” Vinny looked so amused he forgot to take another bite.

Defeating him in the plainest, most straightforward way, and yet being accused of trickery—besides, this was a real duel with real blades. Even if he had tricked him, so what? As long as it wasn’t against the rules, wasn’t victory still victory? Did winning have to follow some “proper style,” some so-called martial ethics?

If not for the setting, Vinny would’ve really liked to ask, “Bro, you think I’d need to cheat to beat you? You’re not even worth me wasting brain cells on.”

“I wasn’t using my full strength.” Valan stammered out after failing to explain anything.

“Oh, I see.” Vinny took a bite of chicken, stowing Frostfang.

As if he had been using his full strength.

“So what do you want, another round? Fine by me.” Vinny shrugged and stepped back on his own. “But I really don’t think it’s necessary. Another round would just end the same way.”

It was the truth. But in Valan’s ears, pampered as he was on endless family praise, it was unbearably insulting.

“...Just now, I was careless. Watch this!” Valan blurted. He still believed Vinny had won by luck. If they fought again, he’d definitely win.

He had a plan—he knew Vinny’s Spirit Soul talent was only one star, meaning he could barely use magic.

So, instead of swordsmanship, he’d fight him with magic. Vinny wouldn’t be able to rely on dirty tricks!

Electricity crackled over Valan’s rapier. He flipped his wrist and thrust, a surge of lightning striking forward.

[Lightning Thrust]

Ah, so it was the [Magic Swordsman] Spirit Soul.

Vinny had already guessed as much.

Still, lightning might be fast, but the wind-up was ridiculous—an obvious pose telegraphing the spell before it even came out.

Way too many wasted movements. A fighter who had never once hidden his intent. Clearly had never seen a real battlefield.

Against such an attack, Vinny didn’t even bother to dodge. He’d summoned [Armor Fortress] enough times that he could now do it instantly.

[Armor Fortress] flared into being. [Ice Skin Technique] cast in a flash, the thin ice-armor dissipating the weak current entirely.

The lightning burst across the icy plates, blinding Valan himself. By the time he blinked his eyes clear, the spearpoint was once again at his throat.

The same familiar position. The same familiar outcome.

Vinny hadn’t lied—the result really was identical.

The hall fell silent.

Those nobles who had been waiting to laugh at Vinny, as they had during his infamous public confession, now sat with faces dark as water, saying nothing.

“That was [Ice Skin Technique].” A gleam flashed in King Friane V’s eyes. “He combined [Armor Fortress] with [Ice Skin Technique], forming an ice-armor to counter magic... an interesting application. I’ve never seen it used like that.”

“Convinced now, Young Master Valan?” Vinny asked cheerfully.

“I... y-you must have used some sneaky trick, I—!”

“Enough!” From the other table, Valan’s father cut him off, glaring furiously.

“Stop disgracing yourself! Sit down!”

“Father, I—”

“I said sit!” The richly dressed middle-aged man snorted.

“...Yes, I understand.” Valan swallowed his fury, lowered his head, and returned to his seat. His pride burned as he imagined every eye mocking him.

Vinny needed only a glance to know exactly what was running through his mind.

In truth, hardly anyone was thinking of him at all. He was simply giving himself extra lines in a play no one else was watching.

Not everyone was like Vinny—an infamous street rat, cursed wherever he went.

“That boy...” Eric, seated at the lower end, sighed as he looked at Vinny standing calm and composed in the center of the hall after handily defeating Valan.

As an old Dragon-Knight, he could see it in just those few movements—Vinny had suffered and endured much this semester. He had likely seen real battle. Otherwise, such rapid growth was impossible.

The old Vinny, weak and insecure, had hidden behind arrogance, bluster, and shamelessness to cover up his powerlessness.

But now he moved with ease, stood in composure.

Because he knew that among the youths of the kingdom, few could match him.

Strength—that was what gave him such calm.

Vinny had truly changed. Even defeating a once-mocking, once-unreachable rival brought him no joy. To him, it was ordinary, unremarkable.

And truly, that was what he thought. Beating trash wasn’t something to brag about. After all, he was someone who had traded blows with the future Demon Lord Jiu Lixue.

Well—traded a blow. Still, it counted. Could any of these little noble pups here even withstand a single move from Jiu Lixue? Probably not even one casual flick of her finger.

If it weren’t for the setting, Vinny might’ve described his opponent as working part-time as a poet.