The classroom was chaos.
Desks floated mid-air, one of them rotating slowly like a lazy orbit. A tiger-headed student with smoke coming out of his ears was locked in a silent scream, frozen mid-roar. Another boy sat upside down on the ceiling, calmly sipping boba tea through a straw that extended fifty feet.
Welcome to Class V.
The so-called "bottom-feeders" of the academy. The throwaways. The failures. Students whose talents were too weird, too unstable, or too dangerous for regular class integration.
And now, they had a new homeroom teacher.
Zhou Chen stood at the front of the classroom, expressionless. His eyes scanned the madness like a bored observer at a zoo. He stepped over a puddle of melted steel, reached into his coat, and pulled out… a folding chair.
He unfolded it slowly, deliberately, and sat down.
"Continue," he said. "I want to see how far the circus goes."
At first, no one noticed. Then a few students turned to look. One by one, the chaos slowed. A floating desk hit the ground. The boba straw fell with a soft plop.
Zhou Chen yawned.
"Boring," he said. "No explosions. No blood. No creative insults."
A girl with flaming hair narrowed her eyes. "You think you're better than us?"
"No," Zhou Chen said. "I am better than you. And you should be glad I'm stuck here babysitting you instead of out there, winning tournaments or sleeping with your crushes."
Murmurs erupted.
The tiger-headed student stepped forward, muscles bulging. "Who do you think you are?"
Zhou Chen smiled for the first time. "I'm your teacher. And starting today, we're going to rewrite the hierarchy of this school."
He stood up slowly. His presence exploded outward—not spiritual pressure, not cultivation aura—something older, colder, heavier. Every student felt it in their bones.
"I'm not here to teach peace," he said.
He raised one hand, and the classroom trembled. Lights flickered. Windows shook.
"I'm here to create monsters."
Silence.
And then—laughter.
Not mocking. Not cynical.
But unhinged, delighted, chaotic laughter.
The girl with flaming hair lit up, literally. "Okay, teacher. What's the first lesson?"
Zhou Chen smirked. "Combat evaluation. No rules. No mercy."
Five minutes later, the field behind the academy looked like a warzone.
Zhou Chen stood in the center, arms crossed. Around him, students sprawled across the dirt—bruised, exhausted, half-conscious.
He had not lifted a finger.
They had fought each other.
And he had simply let them.
"Lesson one," he said. "Power is meaningless without control."
He knelt beside the tiger-headed boy, who had a black eye and a satisfied grin.
"Name?"
"Carlos," the boy grunted. "Spirit beast bloodline. Unstable transformation."
"Good. You'll be my vanguard."
He moved to the boba straw boy, who was now chewing grass with mild confusion.
"Name?"
"Zeke. My qi turns into rubber. Accidentally stretched my brain once."
"You'll be my scout. Let's see if you survive long enough to regret that."
Finally, Zhou Chen stood up and looked around.
"You're not garbage," he said. "You've just been told you are."
He turned and walked away.
"Tomorrow," he said, "we fight Class A."
Chaos erupted again.
"You're kidding!"
"They'll kill us!"
Zhou Chen didn't stop walking.
"If you don't show up, I'll drag you by your ankles."
He disappeared into the hallway.
Behind him, the monsters began to smile.
Hidden Hook for Next Chapter:
Tomorrow, Class V will face Class A in front of the entire academy. But what no one knows is—Zhou Chen was once Class A's golden prodigy… before he vanished.
Now, he returns as the villain.
And he's here to burn down the script.
As Zhou Chen walked away from the training field, the wind picked up behind him, sending a flurry of dust into the air. He didn't need to look back. He knew.
They would come.
No matter how broken, how chaotic, how much they hated authority—deep down, all cultivators craved one thing:
Power.
And he just offered them a war.
Back inside the headmaster's office, a storm was already brewing.
"You assigned him to Class V?!" roared Elder Blake, slamming a palm on the jade desk. The force cracked the polished surface.
The headmaster sighed, pouring himself a cup of calming tea. "Technically, he requested it."
"He's a menace! A dropout! He beat up a senior instructor last time he was here!"
"Correction," the headmaster said, sipping his tea, "he crippled a senior instructor. There's a difference."
Elder Blake turned red. "This is madness! Class V is unstable! Putting Zhou Chen there is like giving gasoline to a wildfire!"
The headmaster smiled. "Exactly."
That night, Zhou Chen returned to the dormitory assigned to teachers. It was modest, dust-covered, and missing half a window pane.
He liked it.
He lit a stick of incense, sat cross-legged on the wooden floor, and opened a worn leather notebook. Inside were hand-sketched diagrams—battle formations, cultivation routes, mutation suppression techniques. Scribbles crisscrossed the margins in three different languages.
He flipped to a blank page and wrote:
Class V: Potential Assets
1. Carlos – Beast bloodline, high durability, lacks discipline.
2. Zeke – Elastic qi, possible spatial resonance?
3. Flame girl – Name pending. Pyro-kinetic manipulation. Rage issues.
4. ??? – Someone was watching from the treeline during sparring. Investigate tomorrow.
Zhou Chen stared at the fourth entry, tapping his pen.
"A rat," he muttered. "Or a rabbit waiting to bite."
Either way, it would be fun.
Meanwhile, deep underground beneath the school's restricted level, a giant mirror pulsed with silver light.
A man in a black robe stood before it, expression hidden under a porcelain mask. Behind him, three masked figures knelt in silence.
"The villain has returned," the masked man said.
"He walks with monsters," one whispered.
"He will disrupt the prophecy," another warned.
The leader chuckled.
"That's exactly what we need."
He touched the mirror. Zhou Chen's image flickered into view—smirking, unbothered, dangerous.
"Let the chaos begin."
The Next Morning – Class A Training Ground
The elite class was already assembled, practicing elegant sword forms and high-speed spell casting. Robes were clean. Posture was perfect. Confidence radiated like golden sunlight.
And then… thunder.
Not from the sky.
From boots.
Class V arrived—stomping like a gang of delinquents who'd just escaped detention. Torn uniforms. Glowing eyes. One was shirtless. Another carried a shovel. Zeke wore sunglasses upside down.
And at the front?
Zhou Chen.
He didn't walk like a teacher. He walked like a storm wearing shoes.
"Class A," he called out, voice lazy. "You've been sitting on your perfect little throne too long."
One of the Class A captains stepped forward, sneering. "You dare bring those rejects here?"
Zhou Chen grinned. "Dare? I'm just stretching."
He raised a single hand.
The duel began.