Urban System in America
Chapter 162 - 161: Chaos in Classroom

Chapter 162: Chapter 161: Chaos in Classroom

Soon, he found himself standing in front of the classroom door again.

This time, no one stopped him. No surprise greetings. No ominous warnings.

Smooth sailing.

He pushed open the door, half-expecting to sneak in quietly.

Instead—

Silence.

A sudden hush fell over the entire room. Every student turned their head toward him in perfect sync, eyes wide like they’d just spotted a national treasure walking through the door.

He froze mid-step.

"...Huh?"

His eyes darted around the room.

’What the hell just happened? Did I step into the wrong class?’

He glanced at the number above the door. Nope, this was the right one.

’Then what’s with the stares? What did I do now?’

Just as he was trying to process the room’s weird silence, one of his bad friends trotted over with a grin and immediately slung an arm around Rex’s neck—then tightened it like a noose.

"ACK! Mercy! At least let me explain!" Rex gasped, flailing a bit.

"Explain? Hah! So you’re gonna play clueless now?" his friend scoffed.

"What did happen though?" Rex asked, straightening up with genuine confusion.

""Huh?" ... wait. When did you get so tall? Weren’t you just a little taller than me?" Asked the guy confusedly.

"Huh?" Rex blinked, remembering that—now that he thought about it—he really did seem a bit taller. Of course, he had an inkling as to the reason. The system had to be behind this, especially with all those weird potions he’d been drinking lately. It would be really strange if nothing had happened.

Another one chimed in, squinting at Rex. "You grew again? You were already taller than us!"

Rex smirked, tossing in just the right amount of smugness.

"I’ve been exercising regularly," he said with a stretch. Then, almost like an afterthought, he added, "And I think I might’ve hit my second growth spurt."

The group collectively groaned in despair.

"Damn it! Why you of all people?"

"Yeah, yeah, leave some blessings for the rest of us!"

"You were already tall enough! This is just greed!"

Rex shrugged, looking far too pleased with himself.

"Well, what can I say? If the gods love me this much, who am I to complain?"

That smug smile was the final straw.

Seeing Rex’s smug grin and effortless confidence, the others felt something snap inside them. They exchanged glances, nodded silently, then stepped forward like a squad of petty thugs ready for justice. One by one, they began folding up their sleeves and cracking their knuckles in exaggerated slow motion.

Rex immediately took a cautious step back, eyes darting between them.

"Whoa, whoa—wait a second! Gentlemen! Let’s not resort to violence! Let’s talk about this, like true gentlemen. With words. Diplomacy, you know?"

They didn’t even slow down. In fact, his attempt at diplomacy only made them grin wider—more sinister like villains in a cheap Saturday morning cartoon.

"Guys? Guys, wait—!"

Before he could say another word, they lunged.

He seemed to understand their intentions, so having no other choice, Rex bolted toward the other end of the classroom with a yelp.

His bad friends gave chase without hesitation, shouting war cries as desks and chairs flew in their wake.

And just like that, chaos exploded in the classroom and the classroom turned into a scene straight out of a war zone.

Desks screeched, chairs toppled, and students yelped as Rex darted across the room like a parkour expert. His so-called friends gave chase, but no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t even graze his shirt, let alone catch him.

"Is he flying?!"

"Bro, I swear he just wall-jumped off a desk!"

Laughter and cheers echoed across the classroom. The students quickly gave up pretending to mind their own business, clapping and howling at the spectacle.

The girls, in particular, were having the time of their lives.

"Go, Rex!"

"Run, speed demon!"

"Show those slowpokes!"

"Show them who’s boss!"

"Catch him if you can—oh wait, you can’t!"

Even the quiet ones in the back were peeking up from their books, smiling at the absurdity. A few phones were sneakily raised to capture the moment for future meme use.

They booed the pursuers and cheered Rex on like he was a national athlete. Some even gave him nicknames mid-chase—"Rex Rocket," "Phantom Legs," "Classroom Ninja."

It went on for a good few minutes. Eventually, the pursuers collapsed one by one—leaning on desks, gasping for breath, wheezing like old men after a stair climb.

Rex, on the other hand, stood across the room as if nothing had happened. His breathing was steady. Not a single bead of sweat clung to his forehead. His hair was still annoyingly perfect in place.

He even flicked an invisible speck off his jacket, then casually leaned against a desk with the cool detachment of a drama lead, one hand in his pocket, watching them recover with the kind of smug elegance that could make someone commit a crime.

"Whew," he said casually. "That was a nice little warm-up."

That did it.

His friends glared at him like he’d just stolen their futures. But what made it worse—way worse—was the sound of girls cheering again, louder this time.

"Too cool!"

"He looks like he just walked off a magazine cover!"

"Why isn’t he in a drama yet?!"

Rex raised an eyebrow and gave a lazy two-finger salute, soaking in the attention like he’d trained for it.

His friends, still out of breath, exchanged another look. Then came the wave of renewed hatred.

Despite being dead tired and on the verge of collapsing, Rex’s friends looked like they were about to go for another round of chasing him. The fire of vengeance still burned in their eyes.

Just as they were about to pounce again, Rex quickly raised both hands in surrender, stepping back like a wise diplomat avoiding war.

"Okay, okay! Truce!" he said. "Let’s stop here, alright? I admit defeat."

They paused, suspicious.

"As an apology..." Rex continued, forcing a pained expression like he was sacrificing a kidney, "today’s lunch is on me."

There was a beat of silence.

Then, as if someone had injected them with c a triple shot of espresso—or maybe chicken blood, they all straightened up instantly, like they’d just respawned in a video game,and turned to him with eyes full of anticipation.

"You serious?" one of them asked, eyes wide.

Rex grimaced and gave a reluctant nod, like a soldier accepting his fate.

They immediately erupted in cheers.

"Alright, boys! You heard him! Time to order the most expensive dishes on the menu

and completely bankrupt this guy!"

"Yup, time for steak and sundaes!"

"I’m getting extra sides!"

"Same! Today, we dine like royalty!"

"Yeah, let’s do it!" they all agreed in perfect unison, like a band of hungry pirates plotting a feast.

"Hey, hey—you guys can’t be serious!" Rex protested, horrified.

"Are you sure about that?" one of them asked, rolling up his sleeves again as if ready to chase him all over the school a second time.

Rex’s expression twisted. He clenched his jaw and muttered through gritted teeth, "...Fine. You win."

The rest of the class, who had been watching this lively exchange, burst into laughter. Some clapped, others whistled, and a few shook their heads in amusement like they were watching a live sitcom.

With his dramatic sighs and exaggerated despair, Rex played the tragic hero paying the ultimate price—lunch money.

Meanwhile, the others had already started planning their extravagant orders like seasoned con artists.

And just like that, peace was restored—temporarily. At the cost of Rex’s wallet.

(End of Chapter)