I believe everyone in their daily life has encountered this type of person:

When they can't argue their point, they start behaving irrationally, relying on sheer volume to bully others, employing melodramatic tactics like crying, shouting, and even resorting to threats of extreme actions. They drag in irrelevant details, behaving with no sense of decency whatsoever.

Unfortunately, Lahr's father was embodying this stereotype perfectly at this moment, putting on a performance so exaggerated that it made everyone in the room deeply uncomfortable.

Leon even began to wonder if this man was actually a dragon or a rabid dog foaming at the mouth.

Though Leon’s earlier analysis had delighted both Noa and Roswitha, it clearly had hit a nerve with Lahr’s father, who could no longer maintain his composure.

"Hey, hey, hey, Principal, did you hear that just now? He was actually teaching his daughter—right here in front of everyone—how to bully my son! Isn’t this outrageous?"

"I’m telling you, students with violent tendencies like that can’t just apologize and walk away! No, they should be expelled! Permanently banned from the school!"

Principal Wilson raised a hand to halt Lahr’s father’s incessant shouting. "Calm down. Whether or not someone gets expelled is for the academy to decide. Furthermore, we’ve received numerous complaints from other students about Lahr frequently targeting live-born hatchlings. Just last night in the dining hall, many students witnessed Lahr provoking Noa deliberately."

Hearing this, Lahr’s father grew even more agitated. He slammed his hand on the table, glaring at Principal Wilson and shouting angrily,

"Hey, you old fool, are you out of your mind? It’s obvious their daughter hurt my son, yet instead of punishing her, you’re accusing my son of provoking her?"

"My son has never provoked anyone. That’s just the way he normally acts. If those weak little hatchlings can’t handle it and think they’re being bullied, that’s their problem! A bunch of spineless cowards."

"And even if my son was bullying someone, there must have been a reason for it. Principal, are you seriously running this academy with such blatant favoritism?"

Wilson furrowed his brows and replied sternly, "Watch your words, Lahr’s father. If you continue to slander the academy, we will take stronger measures against Lahr."

Faced with this warning from Principal Wilson, Lahr’s father temporarily backed off but wasn’t ready to quiet down just yet. Instead, he turned his fury toward the teachers present.

"And you teachers! Why didn’t you step in to mediate when there was a conflict between students, huh?"

"My son’s arm is broken now—tell me, how are you going to compensate for that?"

"He’s such a well-behaved child, and you just stood by and let this happen? Are you blind or what?"

The teachers remained impassive, their faces devoid of emotion.

These seasoned educators had long since formed accurate impressions of students based on as little as a single day’s worth of classes.

They all knew exactly how Lahr tended to behave.

Frankly, they thought Noa had been rather lenient.

But Lahr’s father misinterpreted their silence as guilt, assuming they were too embarrassed to refute his claims. Emboldened by this, he grew more brazen, looking as though he was determined to stir the entire principal’s office into chaos.

After finishing his tirade against the teachers, he shifted his focus to what he saw as the main culprits behind the fight.

Lahr’s father made his way toward Leon and his family, grumbling loudly as he approached.

"And you lot, weren’t you supposed to be some kind of model family?"

"What a joke! Now your daughter has beaten up my son, and do you have any idea how serious this is?"

"My son has never been bullied in his life! Just half a month into his enrollment here, and now he’s getting beaten up? Why should he have to endure this?"

"My son is the heir to my title! Do you even know who I am? I’m a duke of the Scarlet Flame Dragon Clan! Our leader is Constantine!"

"And you, you’re nothing but a coward who doesn’t even dare show his tail, and yet here you are shamelessly teaching others how to hit us, are you?"

"Come on, then, I’m standing right here. Do you dare strike me?"

"And you—"

He turned his gaze to Roswitha and raised his arm, preparing to point his finger and start berating her.

Smack—

Before this idiot could start spewing insults at Roswitha like a fishwife, Leon stood up and grabbed his wrist.

The man’s index finger, still mid-motion, bent involuntarily under the immense pressure that Leon applied, his bones and nerves forced into submission. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t straighten his finger.

He attempted to wrest control back through sheer force, but to his shock, Leon’s strength was overwhelming.

Roswitha, meanwhile, sat on the sofa, hugging Noa tightly.

To be honest, if Leon hadn’t stepped in when he did, she might have snapped back at the idiot herself.

But it turned out Leon beat her to it.

Roswitha also noticed a small detail, though she wasn’t sure if it was intentional or subconscious on Leon’s part—he seemed a little... protective.

"Why are you yapping like a dog? I could put up with you pointing at me and cursing, but you dare to point at my wife and child?"

Leon’s voice was frosty as he said, "I almost thought a stray dog had wandered into St. Sysira Academy!"

Lahr’s father glared at Leon with a face full of hostility, though his earlier bravado had visibly diminished.

Standing at over six feet tall, Leon was an imposing figure, and his natuLahr aura as a Dragon Slayer carried an innate pressure that made dragons instinctively shrink back.

Lahr’s father, though obviously intimidated, still clung stubbornly to his posturing. "What? Are you going to hit me? This is the principal’s office—you try it!"

"Why is ‘hitting’ always the first thing that comes out of your mouth? Are you pretending you or your son are some kind of tough guys?"

"Of course! Your daughter beat up my son—that’s the truth! What, am I not allowed to mention it?"

Leon chuckled coldly. "My daughter is one year and two months old. Remind me again, how old is your son with the broken arm?"

Lahr’s father stammered, caught off guard. "That’s—that’s irrelevant! He—"

"I’m seven years and eleven months old..." Lahr muttered softly from the other sofa.

"Louder! Can’t hear you!" Noa looked at the cowering Lahr.

Lahr immediately straightened up and shouted at full volume, "Seven years and eleven months old!"

The little dragon nearly jumped off the sofa to salute Noa.

"He said seven years and eleven months," Noa clarified.

Leon shrugged. "Alright, so rounding up, he’s eight. That means an eight-year-old dragon, along with two other dragons around the same age, couldn’t handle my one-year-old daughter."

"Wow, that’s humiliating. If I were you, I’d find a hole to crawl into and keep this a secret for the rest of my life. I definitely wouldn’t go around parading the fact that ‘my son got beaten up by a one-year-old hatchling.’"

The Dragon Clan had an instinctive reverence for strength.

"Might makes right" was a core belief ingrained into their very bones.

And now, after all Lahr’s father’s bluster about his status, the request for an apology, and his lofty titles, Leon’s few simple sentences had reduced everything to a meaningless joke.

This wasn’t even taking into account the fact that Lahr was notorious for bullying others and had provoked Noa the night before—what was utterly laughable was the headline-worthy "three eight-year-old metamorph dragons losing to a one-year-old live-born hatchling."

Thanks to Leon's "gentle reminder," even a fool like Lahr’s father began to realize just how ridiculous his situation was.

His gaze darted nervously as he moistened his parched lips, still trying to muster some feeble excuse.

"Maybe my son was just having an off day, or maybe he skipped a meal. Your daughter probably just got lucky."

Leon raised an eyebrow. "Oh, is that so? Then how about we have them paired together in the next sparring class and see how they do? Noa, would you mind?"

Noa shook her head. "Not at all."

"I—I mind..." Lahr weakly raised the hand that wasn’t in a cast.

This act of self-sabotage left Lahr’s father completely speechless this time, though the anger on his face was unmistakable.

He simply stood there, glaring blankly at Leon, unable to utter another word.

Leon, however, had no intention of letting him off the hook.

"And earlier, you accused me of teaching my daughter how to defeat your son in public? Sorry, but I wasn’t teaching her how to defeat him. She already broke his arm. What I was teaching her was how to do it faster and easier, got it?"

"You!..."

"Oh, by the way, your son bullying others is just ‘habitual behavior,’ right? Well, my daughter playing rough with me at home is also a habit. Who would’ve thought your son was so fragile? A little roughhousing, and his arm snaps like a twig."

Leon’s sharp words cut deep, striking a nerve without mercy.

Once, Leon knew nothing but how to kill dragons. But after spending so much time around Roswitha, he had perfected the art of psychological warfare as well.

"And you can stop claiming the academy or Principal Wilson is biased. Whatever decision the academy makes, I believe it will be entirely fair. Isn’t that right, Principal?"

Leon turned to Principal Wilson.

Wilson nodded, seizing the chance to reinforce Leon’s "model family" narrative. "Indeed, Mr. Leon. It’s clear your perspective is one of great principle and fairness."

Leon offered a humble smile and released Lahr’s father’s wrist, determined not to waste another word on him.

Lahr’s father rubbed his sore wrist, shooting Leon a venomous look, but he didn’t dare retaliate further. His earlier swagger had entirely dissolved.

"Alright then, since neither party has more to say, let’s get back to the matter at hand. Mr. Leon, you agree to respect the academy’s decision and its ruling on this matter, correct?"

Leon nodded.

"Very well."

Principal Wilson shifted his reluctant gaze toward Lahr’s family, his expression less polite. "And what about you, Mr. Lahr’s father?"

Though humiliated by the "friendly negotiation" earlier, Lahr’s father knew better than to stir the pot further.

Leon, with his sharp tongue and commanding presence, had left him unable to fight back. On top of that, there was something unsettling about Leon’s aura—something Lahr’s father couldn’t quite put his finger on.

For now, it was best to retreat and bide his time.

"I also respect the academy’s decision," Lahr’s father muttered.

Wilson gave him a cold glance and then continued,

"Alright then. In accordance with academy regulations, and based on Lahr’s own repeated acknowledgment that Noa didn’t intentionally aim to break his arm—and given that his group instigated the confrontation—the final ruling is as follows: Noa acted in self-defense, but her actions were deemed excessive. She will receive a verbal warning from her homeroom teacher. As for Lahr and his two friends, they will each write a reflection paper and take responsibility for the classroom sanitation for one week. Does anyone have anything they’d like to add?"

Lahr’s father didn’t say a word, though he muttered under his breath, scolding his own son.

Clearly, he was one of those types who would bully his own family when he couldn’t get his way outside.

The stark contrast between this pathetic excuse for parenting and Leon’s competent, noble demeanor couldn’t have been more obvious.

Leon leaned closer to Roswitha and whispered, "Just a verbal warning for breaking someone’s arm?"

Roswitha lowered her voice as well. “The Dragon Clan’s perspective and level of acceptance regarding children fighting are… well, a bit different from yours. Besides, that child admitted they were the ones who provoked her first. The principal also said that Noa’s actions merely constituted excessive self-defense.”

“Oh, I see.”

“Well then, since both families have no objections to the resolution and are clear about their children’s circumstances, this concludes the academy’s handling of this incident. Thank you all for coming. If you don’t mind, you’re welcome to have lunch in the academy’s cafeteria before leaving.”

Lal’s father grabbed him by the collar and marched out of the principal’s office.

The two Toad Dragon families also slunk away in disgrace, not daring to utter another word the entire time—

Especially after listening to Leon instruct his daughter on how to thoroughly thrash them.

Roswitha picked up Noa and stood, preparing to leave with Leon.

But Principal Wilson called them back.

“Noa should return to class now. I have a few questions I’d like to ask your parents.”

“Oh, okay.” Noa nodded.

Roswitha bent down to set Noa on the floor, giving her a gentle pat on the head. “Be good, go to class.”

“Okay!”

Noa skipped off cheerily.

The couple approached the principal’s desk. “What questions do you have, Principal Wilson?”

Wilson scratched his graying head awkwardly, clearly deep in thought, before saying,

“Well, it’s not exactly an urgent issue.”

“It’s just… it’s rather obvious. Noa, a one-year-and-three-month-old live-birth dragonling, managed to defeat three cocoon-born dragonlings with a combined age of over twenty years—all with her bare hands. This is remarkable news.”

“Roswitha, I know you’re from the Silver Dragon Clan, but I wanted to ask, which noble Dragon Clan does your husband hail from? It’s truly astonishing that your union could produce such a powerful young dragonling. A miracle, really—ah!”

Internally, the principal was thinking: If only they could have more children. The more, the better! The more, the better!

Upon hearing this, the couple grew visibly uneasy.

Roswitha quickly clung to Leon’s arm and forced a strained smile, her brow furrowed. “Ahaha… Principal, you flatter us. M-my husband is just an ordinary member of the Dragon Clan, certainly not from any noble lineage. Isn’t that right?”

Leon smiled awkwardly, inwardly thinking, *Well, I’ve killed quite a few ‘noble’ dragons in my time…*

“Yeah, that’s right… Just a regular guy, Principal,” Leon echoed his wife’s explanation.

But Principal Wilson was unrelenting in his praise.

“Saint Hiss Academy hasn’t nurtured such a talented dragonling like Noa in a long time. I believe that by the time she graduates, she’ll be capable of leading the Dragon Clan in defeating even more—”

Leon raised an eyebrow. “Even more?”

“Dragon Slayers!”

Leon: ?