URBAN VILLAIN SYSTEM

Academy Library...

The pagoda erupted into a wave of excited cries and frantic cheers from the watching spectators as hundreds of new juniors officially began their desperate climb up the ancient spiral staircase.

The sound of rapid, heavy footsteps echoed off the high stone walls like a thunderous rhythm, each young applicant rushing forward with an immense amount of youthful energy, completely eager to secure the highest-ranking manual possible before the mountain’s heavy pressure could drain their physical stamina.

In the beginning, a few highly talented young nobles from prominent local clans easily took the lead, their fine silks fluttering as they bounded up the stone steps with smooth, effortless movements.

"Look at young master Alan from the Iron Wolf Clan! He already crossed the eighth step in less than ten seconds!" a spectator screamed in excitement from the bottom floor.

Another youth named Kevin, a proud genius from a wealthy city merchant faction, followed closely behind him, his palms glowing with a faint crimson aura as he forced his way past the ninth and tenth stairs, his face full of arrogant confidence as he looked down at the slower crowd below.

However, the initial excitement did not last for very long. The moment the line of advancing disciples crossed the twelfth step, the invisible gravity arrays built directly into the spiral architecture violently activated, releasing a suffocating, heavy spiritual pressure that slammed directly onto their life forces like a physical weight.

The chaotic sound of rapid running instantly vanished, replaced instead by the painful, ragged breathing of hundreds of teenagers whose bodies were completely unaccustomed to such extreme conditioning.

The regional laws of the pagoda began to trample over their meridians, making them work incredibly hard to even raise their legs a single inch to touch the next step.

Every single movement required an immense amount of pure willpower and physical strength, and the previous arrogant smiles on their faces completely turned into masks of pure agony.

By the time the leading group managed to reach the 20th step, more than half of the entire crowd of applicants completely stopped in their tracks, their knees buckling violently against the cold granite as they collapsed onto the steps, their chests heaving in absolute defeat as their internal energy pools ran completely dry.

They couldn’t move a single millimeter forward, their trembling fingers barely managing to reach into the nearby stone sockets to grab whatever low-tier, basic mortal manual was available on that floor before sliding back down the stairs in utter humiliation.

The heavy pressure only multiplied with every single higher stair, turning the path into an absolute nightmare for the remaining survivors.

By the time the line reached the 25th step, almost everyone else was left entirely exhausted, their clothes completely drenched in a thick layer of cold sweat as they lay paralyzed on the stone, unable to force their feet to lift again.

Only the last few top geniuses of the outer campus stretched themselves to the absolute limit of their physical endurance, their eyes bloodshot with desperate pride as they literally dropped to all fours and creeped along the granite to reach the next platform.

A young noble named Brandon managed to crawl his way onto the 26th step, his teeth gritting so hard that blood leaked from his gums, before he finally collapsed and grabbed a basic blade manual.

The absolute limit for the entire new generation reached its conclusion at the 27th step, where the final, top-tier genius of the city was forced to stop, entirely unable to pierce the suffocating wall of gravity that guarded the upper floors.

Tony Clark stood at the absolute baseline of the spiral staircase, his hands casually tucked into the pockets of his dark hunting cloak as he watched the massive collapse of the younger generation with complete, unbothered calm.

He let out a soft, lazy yawn and slowly picked up his pace, stepping onto the first stone stair with his standard, lazy posture perfectly restored.

Unlike the other greedy youngsters who had frantically wasted all their stamina during the initial ten steps, Tony moved with an absolute, calculating patience that completely matched his veteran strategic mind. He did not run, nor did he try to force his way through the gravity wall with brute strength.

Instead, at every single step he climbed, Tony would pause for a fraction of a microsecond, utilizing his Truth Eye to perfectly analyze the exact fluctuations of the gravity array beneath his boots before subtly adjusting the internal flow of his 7th Class Disciple magus energy to completely synchronize with the local pressure.

Step by step, his movements remained incredibly steady, smooth, and rhythmic, looking more like an elegant scholar taking a relaxing stroll through a garden rather than a desperate applicant fighting for his future. He passed the tenth step without a single drop of sweat on his face; he smoothly crossed the fifteenth step without his breathing changing even a single fraction.

When his heavy leather boots calmly stepped over the 20th stair, the eyes of the old Library Elder sitting near the main gates suddenly snapped open, a sharp flash of profound interest and curiosity gleaming within his ancient gaze as he tracked the older youth’s unhurried advance.

The entire bottom lobby of the pagoda fell into a dead, suffocating silence as the watching spectators and the defeated disciples on the floor looked up, their jaws dropping to their absolute chests in sheer, unadulterated shock when Tony’s figure effortlessly crossed the 25th step without showing even a single hint of physical exhaustion.

"How... how is this possible?!" an applicant on the floor shrieked in terror, his voice shaking as he rubbed his eyes in disbelief.

"That is Tony Clark! The famous seven-time failure! His meridians are supposed to be completely blocked and rotten, so how can he walk past the 25th stair as if the gravity array doesn’t even exist?!"

Tony did not stop there to listen to their childish confusion. He continued his steady, patient ascent, his physical body—hardened by days of bearing the absolute, bone-crushing force of the mountain waterfall—absorbing the heavy spiritual pressure like a sponge. Step twenty-eight, step twenty-nine, step thirty.

With every single step he conquered, the invisible wall of gravity became miles thicker, the immense pressure slamming into his chest like a physical iron hammer, trying to force his soul out of his duplicate shell.

When Tony’s boot finally touched the 31st step, the surrounding crowd of spectators held their breath, completely expecting him to stop and reach his hands toward the stone socket resting on that platform.

The 31st step housed the legendary "Hurricane Punch" technique, an extraordinarily powerful, high-tier martial manual that was widely considered the most desired and coveted art by every single new disciple in the outer campus. It was a manual that could allow a magus to unleash devastating vortices of physical wind force from their fists, a treasure that many wealthy noble clans had spent fortunes trying to procure for their children.

"He’s going to take the Hurricane Punch!" a noble youth shouted from below, his voice filled with intense jealousy and panic. "A talentless piece of trash like him is going to ruin such a magnificent manual!"

But Tony didn’t even look at the glowing crystal scroll of the punch technique. He casually walked right past it, his eyes remaining fixed entirely on the upper floors as he lifted his foot to step onto the 32nd platform.

The 32nd step contained the sacred "Mountain Sword: 9 Forms" manual, another premier, high-ranking weapon art left behind by an ancient sword master of the institution. Seeing Tony pass the wind punch and approach the sword manual, several elite sword applicants in the background began loudly cursing and screaming in digital rage on the spot, their faces contorted with intense worry and frustration.

According to the absolute, unyielding rules of the Black Fire Academy, a disciple who claims a technique manual from the Grand Library Pagoda is allowed to keep the physical scroll in their private possession for as long as they want; they won’t need to return the item to the archive until they either completely master the technique to its absolute apex or choose to change their mind and exchange it for another manual later on.

This specific rule meant that if Tony Clark took the Mountain Sword manual today, no other disciple in the entire outer campus would be able to study that premier technique for months, or even years, to come. To the proud young nobles, the mathematical probability of a famous failure hoarding their desired treasures was an absolute catastrophe they simply could not tolerate.

"Stop him! He is doing this deliberately to ruin our futures!" a young master shrieked from the middle floor, his fists clenching in furious panic.

However, the immense spiritual pressure on the 32nd floor had finally reached an absolute, world-shaking peak that bypassed the defensive capabilities of a standard 7th Class body. As Tony forced his foot onto the 32nd step, the terrifying gravity violently slammed into his physical frame, causing the blood vessels inside his nose to suddenly burst from the extreme compression.

A thick, dark stream of blood began gushing out of his nostrils, staining the front of his crimson outer disciple robes, and his physical vision flickered with a temporary wave of absolute dizziness. The weight felt as though an entire mountain range had been dropped directly onto his neck, trying to grind his bones into dust.

I am Tony Clark, his strategic mind roared internally, his jaw tightening into an iron-like lock as his self-motivating talk from the previous night flashed back into his consciousness. I didn’t conquer an entire continent and bring a god-like upper realm traveler to his knees just to let a piece of stone block my ascension in this lower world. If my physical body is weak, I will force it to break; if the laws are heavy, I will trample over them. I must not give up!

With a surge of absolute, terrifying villainous willpower, Tony manually controlled the chaotic energy flow inside his spiritual sea, bending his spine forward as he forced his trembling legs to take one final, catastrophic step.

He completely bypassed the Mountain Sword manual, stepped past the 32nd platform, and with a final, unyielding thrust of his body, his boots securely slammed onto the absolute platform of the 33rd step!

The golden runic barrier of the 33rd floor violently hummed, recognizing his absolute success as the suffocating pressure around his body suddenly stabilized into a heavy, quiet stillness.

Tony breathed heavily, wiping the dark blood from his upper lip with the back of his leather gauntlet, and slowly extended his hardened hands into the ancient stone socket embedded in the circular wall. His fingers closed tightly around a dusty, dark-gold parchment scroll that vibrated with a deep, eerie humming power—the legendary "Phantom Arrows" technique manual.

The entire library pagoda fell into a state of absolute, paralyzed shock. Thousands of eyes stared up at the 33rd step in complete, silent horror, unable to comprehend how a boy whom everyone considered to be the city’s worst trash had just conquered a peak that no new disciple had touched for over fifty years.

Suddenly, a wave of nervous, forced laughter erupted from some of the arrogant nobles at the bottom floor as they tried to hide their intense humiliation.

"Haha! Look at that idiot!" a Vance clan lackey shouted mockingly, his voice trembling with fear. "He nearly killed himself and spit out blood just to grab a primitive archery manual! Archery is completely useless in a real magus duel! He wasted his entire life force on a piece of common hunter garbage!"

Tony completely ignored their pathetic, childish barking. A slow, deeply satisfied grin spread across his face as he stood on the high platform, entirely unbothered by their mockery.

He casually raised the dark-gold scroll to his face, his fingers gently caressing the rough, ancient parchment with an immense amount of genuine affection and strategic triumph. He could feel the cold, lethal shadow-attribute and wind-attribute energy laws trapped inside the paper, perfectly matching his hunting bow and his calculating personality. He knew that with this masterpiece in his possession, the chessboard of the outer campus was officially his to command.

Down at the main gates, the old Library Elder slowly stroked his long white beard, his ancient eyes staring up at Tony’s tall, blood-stained figure with a look of great, unadulterated interest and profound pride.

"The path of the archer has finally found its true master," the old man murmured silently.

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