The Beautiful Idiot Is Forced To Play The Villain [Quick Transmigration] - Chapter 22

Chapter 22

No tricks, no schemes—just a dummy system wearing the skin of a school bully.

Lan Zhen was too embarrassed to explain that he was simply too slow to learn, so in a moment of inspiration, he slapped his pen onto the desk and said dissatisfiedly, “This is so boring. Teach me or don’t; I don’t even care to learn.”

With such harsh words spoken, he surely wouldn’t be forced to continue studying.

Besides, his persona was that of a tyrannical, unreasonable bully; saying this should be perfectly normal. Perhaps 370 would even praise him.

On the surface, Lan Zhen maintained his haughty bully facade. He stood up, puffing out his cheeks. “We’ve been at this for so long and I still don’t get it—it must be your problem. How can you turn around and blame me?”

Wei Chengyang remained silent.

“I have other things to do. If anyone asks, just say I’ve been studying with you the whole time.” Lan Zhen assumed the other boy was stunned by his outburst. His tone softened slightly, but his words remained a natural command.

Without waiting to see if the other agreed, he turned and left.

As Lan Zhen’s back disappeared from view, Wei Chengyang pushed the book aside and took a sip of the nearby milk tea.

It had gone cold, which only made the sweetness feel heavier—almost to an intolerable degree for him.

Yet, his internal feelings were the polar opposite. No matter what the little bully said, it always sounded soft; he didn’t know how to act tough at all. Even harsh words sounded like he was acting spoiled.

Truly too cute.

On the other hand, Lan Zhen’s claim of having “other things to do” was a complete lie. The moment he left, he dived straight into a dessert shop.

It definitely wasn’t because he wanted sweets; he chose this spot because the milk tea shop was right next door—a result of precise calculation.

The main reason was that Mo Changfeng and Xu Gu would certainly never come here to buy anything, so he wouldn’t run into them and his lie wouldn’t be exposed.

Just as he predicted, the day passed quickly without him being caught. With Wei Chengyang’s “assist,” the others would even have to praise his hard work when he returned.

[370, look how silly they are. I’m the smart one.] Lan Zhen chuckled under his blankets, looking like a kitten that had successfully stolen a treat.

Lately, 370 had realized that no matter what Lan Zhen said, it was best to just go along with it—like stroking a cat’s fur the right way to keep it happy. So, the system cooperated: [Yes, smart.]

·

Monday was the day of the school test. The usually bustling corridors were quite desolate. Classrooms had been converted into various examination halls, and one by one, the candidates entered with light equipment.

Though he was on sick leave, Lan Zhen slipped in for a peek out of curiosity. He discovered a very interesting phenomenon.

The higher the rank of the exam hall, the more relaxed the candidates were. He even saw several people walking in with their arms around each other’s shoulders, chatting. In contrast, the lower-ranked halls were filled with students who looked half-dead from stress. In the very last hall, the candidates were deathly pale; it looked less like an exam and more like an execution ground.

Mo Changfeng and the other players stood out like sore thumbs with their nonchalant attitudes.

Naturally, these people saw Lan Zhen too. Their expressions varied, but all were quite interesting.

The tattooed man pointed toward Lan Zhen and leaned in toward Pei Ran, whispering slyly, “Pei-shen, the little sister keeps staring at you. She definitely wanted to come that day, but her roommates must have stopped her.”

Seeing someone start the trend, the other players chimed in.

“Exactly. The bully used to follow him everywhere; he must be hopelessly in love. There’s no way he’d suddenly stop coming.”

“Right, the little sister has such thin arms and legs—she definitely couldn’t beat her roommates. Even if she wanted to come, she couldn’t.”

They didn’t really know what they were saying; by the end, it was pure nonsense.

With the school rules still in place, how could Lan Zhen be controlled by his roommates? But that didn’t stop them from fabricating stories; the priority was to defuse the unstable bomb.

It wasn’t that they were gossips; they had no choice. Ever since Pei Ran came back from looking for Lan Zhen that day, he had been radiating a cold aura daily, resorting to violence whenever issues arose. Their “small-fry” hearts couldn’t take the pressure.

Pei Ran’s expression had finally softened a bit, but one look at the live stream’s bullet-chat and he nearly exploded again.

Typical man. Did you drive the little sister away before? Now you want her to come find you? So ‘average yet confident’.

Though Xing Shixi wasn’t technically in their camp, his exam hall was right there, so he stood nearby. He caught a glimpse of that comment and nearly failed to hold back a laugh.

One had to admit, that was a very accurate summary.

Consequently, the scene Lan Zhen saw was this: Pei Ran’s face started out okay, then became increasingly grim until it was as black as the bottom of a pot.

Men’s hearts are like needles at the bottom of the sea; I can’t fathom why he’s like this at all.

The bell for the start of the test rang. Under the teachers’ guidance, students entered the halls in an orderly fashion. When the players noticed Lan Zhen making no move to enter, their expressions shifted.

One player squeezed over to Pei Ran. “Pei-shen, is some key plot about to start…?”

Lan Zhen looked weak and easy to bully; he had always relied on the school rules for protection. Why would he suddenly skip the test?

Logically, what came next had to be a crucial part of this dungeon.

Before Pei Ran could speak, Xing Shixi gave a light chuckle and suddenly shoved that player outward with force.

“Are you crazy? Why—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the man vanished into a mist of blood.

Under the terrified gazes of the other players, Xing Shixi pointed toward the blackboard. The teacher was writing the rules of the exam hall, and the first rule was: No noise in the examination hall.

The rules were identical to a normal exam, but after what they had witnessed, they didn’t dare underestimate them.

After several days of investigation, though they hadn’t fully unraveled the mechanics, they knew generally that falling behind in grades in this school resulted in terrifying punishment.

Most players had struggled through many dungeons, and even the college students had forgotten most of their high school knowledge, let alone the others. Compared to Lan Zhen’s business, they had to focus on the exam at hand.

While the players suffered inside the hall, Lan Zhen wasn’t exactly comfortable outside.

[370, most people in this school probably hate me. Do you think I can last until the mission is complete?]

His tone was very calm—lacking the usual mix of anger and spoiled behavior. 370 didn’t know how to respond for a moment.

After a long silence, the reply was concise.

[It’ll be fine.]

The words seemed perfunctory, yet they were exceptionally powerful. The bit of fear in Lan Zhen’s heart vanished instantly.

[370, you’re so good. I always feel like you’re reliable when you’re around, just like my previous hosts.]

370: [That’s not what you said before.]

The system remembered quite clearly the times Lan Zhen called him unreliable.

Lan Zhen: […]

Don’t expose me just like that!

In No. 1 High School, the efficiency of both teachers and students was terrifyingly high. That evening, just as Lan Zhen started dinner, a broadcast announced that the evening self-study session would be replaced by the announcement of the morning’s test results.

Perhaps because it was nighttime, the gathering place was moved from the open bulletin boards to the auditorium.

By the time he finished eating and arrived, the auditorium was already packed. He found his class’s designated spot. His ears were filled with a chaotic mess of discussions.

To save on electricity, the main lights weren’t fully turned on. Only the small perimeter lights were lit, barely illuminating faces but leaving the overall atmosphere dim. The bright red silk decorations that looked festive by day now radiated a dark, blood-like crimson, making the setting feel even more oppressive.

The atmosphere inside was heavy. Most faces were filled with worry and fear; only a few wore expressions of joy.

But this joy wasn’t the happiness of knowing one did well; rather, it looked like the excitement of a hunter before a kill.

Lan Zhen was inevitably affected. He gripped his school uniform sleeves tightly, his palms drenched in sweat.

Self-study began at 8:00 PM sharp. As the time arrived, Nie Liang took the stage as the teacher representative. Holding a long list, he scanned the crowd before announcing via the speakers: “The results and rankings of this test will now be announced.”

“First place: Wei Chengyang, 748 points.”

The total score was 750. The teachers at No. 1 High School were strict markers; points were almost always deducted from English and Chinese essays. This score was essentially perfect.

The moment the rank was announced, a wave of shock swept through the auditorium.

Lan Zhen could clearly feel countless gazes landing on him. Shock, malice—the content of every gaze was undisguised and blatant.

Nie Liang read the rankings quickly. Before anyone could process the shock, the top five rankings flew by, and Lan Zhen’s name was not among them.

As the rankings moved further down and time passed, the malicious glares directed at Lan Zhen intensified, as if the moment Nie Liang’s voice stopped, they would pounce and tear him to pieces.

“…”

“The above is the complete ranking for this test. Due to sick leave, student Lan Zhen’s rank is automatically defaulted to the very last place. Any students whose names were not called are eliminated.”

As soon as he finished, a black mist began to shroud the auditorium. In the densest parts, a metallic scent of blood began to emanate, and the mist took on a reddish hue.

Most of the locations where the blood mist formed were far from Lan Zhen. He only saw one nearby—a student whose name hadn’t been called suddenly exploded.

Just like the student who died in front of him that other day.

If not for the tradition of sick leave, he would be one of them now.

Lan Zhen turned pale with fright and took a step back, but he seemed to step on someone’s foot. He fell back into the arms of the person behind him.

A warm chest pressed against his back. Before he could even say thank you, he felt the people around him beginning to converge on his position.

“How pathetic.” A large palm rested on Lan Zhen’s waist, hoisting him up almost forcefully. Another hand pinched his face, slowly tilting his head up, forcing him to look upward.

“How were you ever so confident that you would always be number one?”