"You can't compare to Pilemon. With that personality of yours, how do you expect to lead the Notos family to glory in the future?" Paul's father, Amarant, pointed furiously at Paul's head, his voice echoing through the dining room. Amarant's eyes were filled with dissatisfaction; he could no longer tolerate Paul's lazy attitude.
Paul stood there, his body trembling slightly. He was itching to talk back.
He was only 12 years old, and facing his father's reprimand, his heart was filled with unwillingness.
In the past, he had always silently endured his father's scoldings without ever retorting.
But today, he decided to stay silent no longer. He roared, "If I can't compare to Pilemon, then go raise him instead! Isn't it a waste to pin your hopes on me?" Although Paul's voice trembled somewhat, it was exceptionally firm.
His green pupils stared intently at Amarant, without the slightest retreat.
Amarant was enraged by Paul's backtalk. He suddenly stood up, raised his hand, and without hesitation, slapped Paul across the face.
With a sharp 'pa' sound, the noise rang out particularly harshly in the dining room. Everyone was stunned by this sudden scene.
Paul was knocked to the ground by the slap, his cheek instantly swelling red.
Yet he did not cry out. He simply stared fixedly at Amarant in front of him with those green pupils.
The dining room fell into dead silence. All the family members stared blankly at the scene unfolding before them.
They had never seen Amarant so furious, nor had they ever seen Paul retort so stubbornly.
Amarant stood there, his hand still raised in midair, his chest heaving violently. Clearly, Paul's reaction had infuriated him greatly.
His eyes were filled with disappointment toward Paul. He felt his son was so incompetent that he could not possibly shoulder the family's heavy responsibilities.
"Yes, Pilemon's mastery of noble etiquette is indeed far superior to yours." Amarant's voice then became calm, as if the words carried no special meaning, but the contempt within them stabbed straight into Paul's heart like a sharp blade.
Paul's eyes widened, his face full of rage as he glared at Amarant. His chest rose and fell dramatically—he was clearly provoked to the extreme by those words.
"Is it because of your guilt toward my mother?!" He suddenly roared, his voice echoing through the empty dining room, carrying uncontrollable anger and pain.
Paul's mother—the person who had once given him warmth and care—had already passed away before that banquet in the Asura Kingdom.
Ever since then, the rift between Paul and Amarant had grown wider and wider, like an unbridgeable chasm.
When Paul was young, only his mother would care for him and love him.
No matter how big a mistake he made, his mother would gently comfort him and tell him everything would be alright.
However, his mother's departure had stripped Paul of this most important support and reliance.
At the age of 10, his mother's death was undoubtedly a heavy blow to Paul.
From then on, he became increasingly lazy and lost interest in everything.
Although his Sword God Style had already reached the Advanced level, his strength no longer improved in the slightest.
Not only that, he had also been expelled from the noble school for constantly harassing other female students.
That banquet became the final straw that broke the camel's back.
From that day onward, a seed was planted in Paul's heart—a seed of wanting to abandon his noble identity.
He felt nothing but disgust toward this household. He found everything suffocating and painful. This was not the life he desired. He yearned for freedom and did not want to be bound by the tedious rules of nobility.
Facing Paul's question, Amarant acted as if he had not heard. He did not even turn his head. He simply stood up and left his seat, walking hurriedly out of the dining room.
From beginning to end, he gave Paul no response whatsoever, as if Paul did not exist at all.
Amarant's departure acted like a signal. The other family members also stood up one after another and left successively.
In the blink of an eye, the once lively dining room was left with only Paul and Pilemon, along with a few maids standing by.
Pilemon watched Amarant's departing figure and the disheveled Paul. The corner of his mouth could not help but curl into a sneer.
Paul caught sight of that smile.
The anger in Paul's heart was instantly ignited. His eyes locked onto Pilemon, his face full of fury.
At that moment, Paul suddenly shook off the hand of the maid who was trying to help him up and charged straight toward Pilemon.
Pilemon had completely provoked a raging lion.
His speed was so fast that the surrounding maids had no time to react and stop him.
Pilemon had never expected Paul to suddenly attack. He looked in shock as Paul lunged toward him, momentarily at a complete loss.
By the time he came back to his senses, Paul's fist was already smashing toward his face.
Facing Paul, who had already reached the Advanced level of Sword God Style, Pilemon had no power to fight back at all.
Although he had also learned some swordsmanship, compared to Paul, it was like child's play.
Thus, he could only watch helplessly as Paul's fist smashed brutally into his face, powerless to do anything.
With a muffled 'bang!', Pilemon's body jerked backward violently, nearly falling to the ground.
A burning pain immediately spread across his face, and a trace of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth.
However, Pilemon did not dare retaliate.
He knew that with Father absent now, no one could stop Paul from beating him.
As long as he made no extra movements, Paul might stop attacking him.
"Young Master Paul, you can't keep hitting him! If the lord finds out, he will surely punish you!" Seeing the situation, the surrounding maids hurriedly stepped forward to dissuade him, trying to calm Paul's rage.
Only after hearing the maids' words did Paul calm down slightly.
He glared fiercely at Pilemon once more, then turned and strode away, leaving Pilemon alone in place with bruises covering his face.
He had already made up his mind—this household no longer held any meaning for him. It was not a warm harbor, but a cage that bound his freedom.
Since that was the case, he decided to bravely pursue the ideal life he wanted: to become an adventurer and spend his life out in the wild.
That very night, when darkness had fully fallen, the entire Notos residence was extremely quiet, with only the occasional chirping of insects.
This was precisely the moment when the residence's guards were most relaxed.
Paul seized this opportunity. He hung the money pouch filled with gold coins at his waist, gripped his favorite sword tightly, and tiptoed toward the outside.
Thanks to the darkness of night and the fact that Paul's body had not yet fully matured to the standard of a youth, he was difficult to detect in this pitch-black environment.
He skillfully avoided places that might draw attention and finally succeeded in slipping out of the Notos residence.