URBAN VILLAIN SYSTEM

Chapter 212: End of Mark Smith!?

Today, several new servants entered the Magistrate Manor through the rear service entrance. None of the guards paid them any attention. After all, dozens of servants entered and left the estate every day carrying medicine, food, water, and supplies.

Nobody noticed that seven of those servants had never worked a single day in their lives.

Nobody noticed that every one of them belonged to the Demonic Sea Tribe.

At the front walked Elsa. Her plain servant robes perfectly concealed her beauty while a basket of medicinal herbs rested in her hands.

Several turns later, they finally arrived near Peter Jaint’s residence.

The door remained slightly open. Inside, an elderly healer was currently examining Peter’s injuries.

Mark Smith sat on the bed with an ugly expression while several medicinal needles protruded from different parts of his body.

"Let’s wait until the night..." Elsa muttered while staring at Peter on the bed.

***

Night had completely settled over the city by the time the Magistrate Manor closed its gates.

The humiliation of the afternoon duel still lingered like a dark cloud above the estate. Servants walked carefully. Guards spoke in lowered voices. Even the lanterns hanging throughout the courtyards seemed dimmer than usual.

Everyone knew the Magistrate was furious. Everyone knew the young master was injured. Nobody wanted to become the target of that frustration.

Inside one of the manor’s most luxurious chambers, Peter Jaint sat shirtless upon a wooden platform while an elderly healer applied medicinal paste across the bruises covering his chest and arms.

The old healer shook his head repeatedly. "You forced yourself too much."

Peter remained silent.

The healer continued. "The armour protected you. Your father’s intervention protected you. Yet your internal energy pathways still suffered damage."

Peter’s expression darkened. Damage, Humiliation, Defeat... Every word irritated him. Most of all... Tony Clark irritated him.

The healer finally finished applying medicine and stepped back. "You need three days of complete rest."

Peter laughed coldly.

After packing his tools, the old man left. The room finally became quiet.

Mark Smith leaned back against the headboard and stared toward the ceiling.

The battle replayed repeatedly inside his mind.

The Tyrant Dragon Fist... The strange movement technique. The five afterimages... The Fire Dragon Heart Punch. And finally... The Imperial Coin.

Every memory felt like a slap across the face. "I should’ve killed him earlier."

Suddenly, a soft laugh suddenly echoed through the room.

Mark froze... His eyes immediately snapped toward the window.

Nobody... The room appeared empty.

Then another laugh appeared... A woman’s laugh.

Mark stood instantly. "Who’s there?"

The curtains moved. A figure stepped forward. One after another, several disguised servants entered the room.

The doors remained closed... The windows remained sealed. Yet suddenly seven strangers stood inside.

Mark’s heart sank.

The leader stepped forward.

Beautiful, Cold, Terrifying... Elsa smiled. "Good evening, Young Master Mark!"

Mark immediately recognized the tone. "Demonic Sea Tribe."

Elsa clapped happily. "Wonderful. Recognition saves time."

Mark’s expression became ugly. "What do you want?"

Elsa tilted her head. "What a strange question. Of course, to cut your little brother and play with it.

Several Demonic Sea Tribe members laughed.

Mark’s hand slowly moved toward a weapon beside his bed.

Unfortunately... A spear suddenly appeared before his throat. One of the tribe members had already moved.

Mark’s face became pale.

Elsa casually sat in a nearby chair and crossed her legs. "You know, I’ve been observing you all day. You lost like a sore loser... Then you begged your father not to give away the Imperial Edicts. Definitely a useless idiot!"

Several tribe members laughed again.

Mark’s fists clenched. "Get to the point."

Elsa nodded. "Fine... The point is that you’re no longer useful."

Mark understood immediately. They were here to kill him... Mark’s mind raced. Desperately searching for a solution. An escape, Anything... Unfortunately... Nothing appeared.

Elsa stood as though she were preparing for an evening walk. "You know what’s funny? You humans always assume your greatest enemy is standing directly in front of you. You spend all day worrying about Tony Clark."

Mark’s expression changed slightly.

"See? Exactly that reaction... Meanwhile, the real danger enters through the back door."

The spear pressed slightly closer.

Mark swallowed. He understood... This was the end. Not because Tony defeated him... Because he underestimated the Dream Realm.

Elsa stopped directly before him. For a moment, neither spoke. Then Elsa smiled brightly. "Any final words?"

Mark looked around the room. "You will definitely pay for this... Think twice before crossing me."

Elsa laughed. "What a pitiful warning. Unfortunately, the Demonic sea tribe never fears human families. Either you are a prince or a street dog, we kill at the end."

The next moment happened too quickly... A flash. Mark staggered backward. His eyes widened... The world became blurry.

The Demonic Sea Tribe members stepped away.

Elsa watched quietly. Mark collapsed against the bed. His strength disappeared rapidly. The sounds around him became distant.

Yet one thought remained.... One thought refused to leave.

Tony... Tony Clark. The bastard... The shameless bastard, The lucky bastard. If only... If only he had beaten him earlier. If only... Mark tried to laugh. Instead, blood filled his mouth. His vision faded.

And with the last of his strength, he shouted a single name.

"Tony..."

Then everything became silent. The demonic sea tribe members already vanished. Then a servant outside the chamber heard the frail shout of their master.

The man hesitated. Then pushed open the door. His scream shattered the night. "Young Master!"

Within moments the entire Magistrate Manor exploded into chaos. Guards rushed through corridors. Servants panicked. Lanterns illuminated every courtyard.

Meanwhile, several shadows silently disappeared across the rooftops. Elsa never looked back. One tribe member glanced toward the manor. "Princess, should we leave the city?"

Elsa smiled. "No... There is still Tony."

The disciple looked confused.

Elsa’s eyes shifted toward the distant Clark Family estate. "Tonight’s victim was only prepared. Tony Clark... The true target. Let the city believe Tony killed him."

The group vanished into the darkness.

Behind them, the Magistrate Manor descended into mourning.

And somewhere far away, Tony Clark sat comfortably inside the Clark Family library reading ancient records, completely unaware that before dawn arrived...

The entire city would be whispering his name once again.