URBAN VILLAIN SYSTEM

Black Rock Academy Disciple Barracks...

Inside Room 403, Tony Clark remained sitting cross-legged on the cold stone bed.

The tiny meditation chamber was completely quiet, illuminated only by a sliver of starlight filtering through a small crack in the stone wall.

Tony closed his eyes, withdrawing his awareness back into the deep void of his consciousness to make another attempt at establishing a connection.

’System Spirit, the day is over and I have officially entered the academy. Wake up this instant and give me a full status report on our unlocked functions!’

However, his mind remained completely dark and silent, showing absolutely no response. The digital countdown was still frozen behind the invisible layer of spatial friction from his cross-world traversal.

Tony opened his physical eyes and let out a low, frustrated curse under his breath, clenching his fists tightly against his leather gauntlets. He had survived the physical screening and the first combat round entirely through his previous-life combat experience, but being completely cut off from his cheat functions in a brutal, high-tier universe was a massive hassle that tested his villainous patience.

Bam! Bam! Bam!

A series of loud, incredibly aggressive knocks suddenly rattled the thick wooden door of his room, completely shattering the quiet atmosphere of the night. Tony’s eyebrows twitched slightly, his Truth Eye instantly activating on instinct to scan through the wooden surface.

He perceived a tall, arrogant youth dressed in the standard crimson outer disciple robes standing outside his doorway, flanked by two lower-tier lackeys who were snickering maliciously in the dark corridor.

Tony slowly stood up from his rock bed, walked to the doorway, and pulled the heavy wooden bolt back, opening the door just a fraction of an inch.

The arrogant youth immediately stepped forward, his nose tilted upward with an agonizing amount of snobbish pride as he glared down at Tony’s plain hunting cloak with absolute, unadulterated scorn.

"So, you are the famous seventh-time trash who miraculously sneaked into our district today," the youth barked out loudly, his voice full of pure, condescending malice. "Listen to me carefully, Tony Clark. My name is Ryker Vance, and my cousin is an inner disciple of the upper peaks. This Room 403 is the largest and most spiritually dense accommodation in this entire block, and a talentless, blocked-meridian piece of trash like you has absolutely no right to occupy it.

Grab your pathetic bundle, vacate this room immediately, and take that tiny, uncleaned corner shack at the very end of the valley where the stray animals sleep! If you don’t pack your things in three breaths, I will personally throw your body out into the dirt!"

Tony didn’t say a single word. A slow, ruthlessly amused grin curled the corners of his lips as he listened to the boy’s childish threats. He didn’t waste any spiritual energy arguing or trading insults with a minor lackey.

With a sudden, explosive motion, Tony casually grabbed the edge of the heavy wooden door and slammed it shut right in Ryker’s arrogant face!

BANG!

The heavy slam was so powerful that the entire stone doorframe vibrated with a dull thud. Tony smoothly slid the cold iron bolt back into its lock, completely turning his back on the outside world as he walked straight back to his rock bed to resume his meditation.

Outside in the corridor, Ryker Vance completely froze in utter, unadulterated shock, his face turning an angry shade of crimson as he realized he had just been completely ignored by the city’s most famous failure.

He violently began banging his fists against the wood, his lackeys joining in to kick the entrance with all their might.

"Tony Clark! You dare to shut the door on me?! Open this lock right now or I will break your bones into absolute pieces!" Ryker shrieked in a fit of psychotic rage.

However, no matter how much they kicked, banged, or channeled their basic spiritual energy, their actions were completely useless. The ancient, heavy wooden doors of the Black Fire Academy’s quarters were built from reinforced spiritual timber and anchored directly into the mountain cliffs; they wouldn’t even budge a single millimeter under the baseline attacks of standard disciples.

After waiting and shouting for a few frantic minutes without receiving a single fraction of a response, Ryker’s voice turned incredibly hoarse and venomous.

"You are completely done for the exact moment you step out of this room tomorrow morning, Tony Clark!" Ryker shouted one last time into the keyhole, his tone dripping with lethal promise.

"Enjoy your final night of comfort, because at the morning assembly, I will make sure you bleed for this humiliation!" With a furious stomp of his boots, he finally led his lackeys away, their angry footsteps fading down the dark valley.

The next morning, the grand spiritual bells of the central peak rang three times, their deep, resonant tolls echoing across the entire mountain range to signal the official start of the academic year.

Tony Clark woke up at the exact mark of dawn, entirely refreshed and unbothered by the previous night’s threats. He washed his face, changed into his brand-new crimson-and-black outer disciple robes, and casually attached his copper identity token to his belt.

Tony walked out of Room 404 with his standard, lazy posture perfectly restored, navigating the mountain paths until he reached the grand assembly plaza.

The massive clearing was already packed with hundreds of new outer disciples, all standing in neat, tightly organized lines according to their registration numbers. As Tony took his designated place near the middle line, he immediately noticed a venomous, glaring gaze locking onto his flank.

Ryker Vance was standing just two lines over, his eyes bloodshot with lingering fury as he cracked his knuckles, silently mouthing the words ’You are dead’ toward him. Tony merely let out a soft, careless yawn and completely ignored the arrogant fellow, treating his lethal glares as nothing more than a passing breeze.

A moment later, the loud chatter of the students instantly vanished as a magnificent wave of blazing, high-tier heat pressure descended from the clouds.

The space directly above the central platform violently rippled, and a majestic, elderly man dressed in the grand gold-and-crimson robes of the Academy Vice Master slowly materialized from the air.

His eyes carried the absolute, unyielding authority of a supreme expert who had achieved true mastery over the realm laws.

"Welcome to the Black Fire Academy, disciples," the Vice Master announced, his voice quiet but carrying a thundering resonance that vibrated directly within the souls of everyone present. "Today, your path to becoming a true magus officially begins. Your daily training details and class schedules have already been synchronized into your copper identity tokens. You will attend the fundamental lectures on spiritual manipulation every morning without a single exception."

The Vice Master paused, his sharp gaze sweeping over the wide-eyed youngsters before pointing his long sleeve toward a colossal, nine-story stone pagoda that loomed majestic on the high western ridge. "However, the academy does not spoon-feed strength to the weak. Your primary fighting techniques must be selected personally from the Grand Library Pagoda.

The rules are absolute: your ability to claimb the ancient, pressure-infused stone stairs of the library will dictate the exact rank of the manual you can claim. The higher you climb against the mountain’s defensive arrays, the more powerful your technique will be.

If your willpower is pathetic, you will remain stuck on the bottom floor with basic mortal arts forever. Go to your assigned classrooms immediately!"

With a majestic wave of his golden sleeve, the Vice Master vanished back into the clouds, leaving the crowd of disciples to rapidly disperse toward their respective lecture halls.

Tony turned on his heel and walked toward the first-class pavilion, his steps relaxed and slow. The grand lecture hall was designed like an ancient colosseum, filled with rows of curved stone benches surrounding a central teacher’s altar.

Tony walked down the steps, entirely unbothered by the curious whispers of the other students, and picked a quiet, isolated spot near the middle row, casually leaning his back against the stone wall.

Just as he settled in, a soft, familiar scent of spiritual ink and azure herbs lightly drifted into his nostrils. Tony shifted his gaze to his side and noticed a slender figure smoothly sliding onto the stone bench right next to him.

It was the nice-looking painting lady, the disguised merchant heiress who had generously paid for his entrance token the previous morning. She had shed her faded cotton garments and was now dressed in the official outer disciple uniform, though her refined, elegant conduct still made her stand out completely from the surrounding commoners.

She set her wooden sketchboard gently onto her lap, her violet eyes locking onto Tony’s lazy face with a warm, genuine smile that carried absolutely no trace of the arrogance shown by the other nobles.

"It seems our fates are quite closely intertwined inside this institution, young master Tony," she whispered softly, her voice low enough to bypass the surrounding students as the first class officially began.

"I was highly impressed by your magnificent display at the testing altar yesterday. I am glad I made the right choice to invest my crystals in you."

Tony let out a low chuckle, his signature villainous smirk returning to his lips as he casually leaned closer to her side bench.

"I already told you, miss, that your investment would bring a thousand times its returns," Tony replied smoothly, his tone full of shameless confidence as the grand-tutor stepped onto the central-altar to begin the lecture.

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