Imprisoned for a Trillion Years, I Was Worshipped by All Gods!

"It really is Alan!" "I heard that after being rejected by Lioncrest Academy, he got picked up by Sirius Academy like some piece of trash!" "Huh? I heard Alice Duke thinks highly of him!" "Well, Alice Duke isn't always right. If he were truly a genius, why would Lioncrest Academy turn him away? That school's been admitting students for years—if he was a real talent, they'd have to be brain-dead to reject him!" "Exactly! He's just a fame-chasing fraud—one that's already been exposed!" Because Alan was traveling with three carts full of goods, he attracted quite a bit of attention. By now, he'd become somewhat of a hot topic. Unfortunately, the attention was mostly ridicule and disdain. After all, it was rare for someone to be labeled a failure by Lioncrest Academy. People were enjoying the drama, feeling a certain smug satisfaction as onlookers. But despite all the sneering and gossip, Alan remained indifferent. Back when he was at House Roan in the Northern District, he'd already been through worse. His heart had long since grown resilient. Isabella, however, couldn't stand anyone insulting her brother. She yanked open the curtain of the carriage and glared angrily at the surrounding crowd. "My brother is not a failure! He's a genius! It was Lioncrest Academy that deliberately targeted him. How can you people say that about him?!" One of the hecklers, a young punk with spiky red hair styled into a dramatic rooster comb, sneered and smoothed his hair. "Your brother's trash, and you can't stop us from saying it. If he's got guts, let him prove himself to Lioncrest Academy instead of whining here!" As soon as the rooster-head youth spoke, others chimed in with agreement. "Failures are meant to be mocked! What, I can't laugh now?" He cackled wildly, spurring another round of derisive laughter from the crowd. Isabella's eyes filled with fury as she glared at the punk. "Brother, this guy's gone too far!" The moment she finished speaking, Alan leapt from the carriage like a gust of wind and appeared before the rooster-head youth. With a powerful kick to the chest, he sent the man flying. Thud! The blow cracked the punk's ribs, and he shot through the air like a broken kite, slamming into a wall over ten meters away. Blood stained his chest as he twitched on the ground. He'd been seriously injured—right in the middle of the capital city! Everyone fell silent, the laughter freezing on their faces as they stared at Alan in shock. This was the capital! And this so-called "failure" had just assaulted someone in public?! "Does he think he's above the law?!" "This guy's way too arrogant!" Among the stunned crowd, one person stood out—Francis. Seeing what happened only confirmed his suspicions: Alan might be calm most of the time, but messing with his sister was the fastest way to a death sentence. Francis still remembered getting chased for a day and a night after he made Isabella cry once. Meanwhile, Alan swept his cold gaze across the dumbfounded onlookers, then looked at Isabella's trembling form. "If anyone else wants to run their damn mouth, this is what'll happen to you." Alan was a wielder of Blade Spirit, and in that moment, his fury weighed on everyone like an invisible mountain. The pressure was suffocating. That rooster-head punk had actually been a well-known street thug, with mid-tier bronze-level strength. But Alan had taken him down in a single kick. Most of the crowd weren't even that strong—so no one dared move. The once-rowdy street now fell into uneasy silence. Alan's eyes, sharp as blades, scanned the crowd again. He raised a hand and beckoned provocatively. "If you've got the balls to talk, how about you step up and fight?" A few hot-headed youths in crimson robes couldn't take the insult. They stepped out, rage boiling over, and charged at Alan. "You, a failure, dare act tough here?!" Flames burst to life around one of them as he threw a blazing punch, the air itself heating up from the elemental fire swirling around him. The oppressive aura was enough to make one's scalp tingle. But just as his fiery attack was about to reach Alan— Alan moved first. With a motion like a meteor slicing through the sky, his fist shattered the oncoming flames and smashed into the youth's chest. Splat! Blood flew as the crimson-robed youth was sent flying, his chest caving in from the force. His robes were soaked with blood. One move. Another instant defeat—clean and ruthless. Alan flicked the blood from his fist and coldly scanned the now-silent crowd. "Anyone else?" The provocation was blatant, but after seeing two fighters crushed so effortlessly, no one else dared speak—let alone step forward. Alan wasn't surprised. These people were arrogant, sure—but their fear of true power ran bone-deep. Suddenly, a mocking voice rang out from nearby. "Isn't this the piece of trash we rejected from Lioncrest Academy? Since when do garbage like you get to strut around acting tough?" Everyone turned to see a trio approaching—dressed unmistakably in the robes of Lioncrest Academy. "The Sky-Lion robes! They're top students from Lioncrest!" "Lioncrest Academy hates Alan. This might get ugly..." The quiet crowd erupted into murmurs again. Students from Lioncrest Academy were treated like walking prodigies. With them here, Alan didn't stand a chance—or so many believed. Francis and Fort, however, immediately narrowed their eyes at the newcomers. Sirius Academy and Lioncrest Academy were sworn enemies. Their clashes often ended in bloodshed. But lately, Sirius had fallen on hard times and tended to avoid confrontation—only making Lioncrest more arrogant. Now, the three Lioncrest students stood with arms crossed, sneering at Alan. The leader, a scar-faced youth, smirked maliciously. "You haven't even reached tier-bronze, and you think beating up a few street rats makes you someone? You're pathetic." The moment he spoke, Alan attacked. Wind swirled around his feet as he vanished from sight, only to reappear a second later—his palm landing hard across the scar-faced youth's cheek. Smack! The youth's face swelled, blood pouring from his nose and mouth as he was launched backward. The crowd stood frozen in shock. Even Francis and Fort hadn't expected Alan to strike so decisively. And he didn't stop. In the blink of an eye, Alan slapped the other two Lioncrest students as well—sending them both staggering back, heads spinning. Then, while they were still reeling, Alan stormed forward, snatched the gold coin pouches from their waists, and kicked them again for good measure before leaping back onto his carriage. Francis and Fort watched this entire display, dumbfounded. His moves were so quick, so practiced, so professional— If Alan told them he used to be a career bandit, they might've believed him! "What are you spacing out for? Let's go!" Alan shot them a look, then urged the horses forward. Once they were aboard, the caravan sped off, leaving the onlookers stunned. Not only had Alan crushed three Lioncrest elites, he'd even robbed them. Everyone just stood there, shell-shocked. They hadn't expected Alan to be so powerful—or so audacious.