For the rest of PE class, Wang Hai treated Zhang Yu as if he no longer existed. No instruction. No correction. No acknowledgment. And following their teacher's lead, the other students steered clear — a silent quarantine forming around one boy on the training floor.
Zhang Yu lay there, catching his breath, and decided he preferred it this way. Less distraction.
Zhou Tianyi found him after class. "Brave man. Did you buy accident insurance?"
Zhang Yu pushed himself up, dusting off his uniform. "Once my grades skyrocket, plenty of teachers will protect me."
He checked the Feather Book. **Physical Strength: Level 0.84.** Up from 0.83. Without injections. Without supplements. Without enhanced meals. Just the Body-Forging 36 Forms and a supernatural force threatening to explode him if he stopped.
Zhou Tianyi studied him. "You seem... suspiciously confident. Found a new supplier? Good product? Share the wealth, brother."
Zhang Yu cracked his knuckles. "Natural training. Pure and simple."
Zhou Tianyi stared at him like he'd just announced he was breathing water.
---
At the door, Bai Zhenzhen waited, flushed from exertion, steam rising faintly from her shoulders. She banged on the doorframe. "Zhang Yu. Done posing? I'm starving. Move."
The three of them joined the lunch rush. As elite-class students, they bypassed the main line through the VIP entrance — walking past the regular students like they were stepping over a velvet rope, surrounded by stares ranging from envy to resentment to a sort of hungry calculation that said *I could take your spot.*
Inside, Bai Zhenzhen announced: "Food cultivation today. I'm going upstairs."
The second-floor cafeteria. Enhanced meals — spiritual ingredients, medicinal herbs, alchemical preparation. Hundreds of yuan per plate. Thousands for the premium options. The original Zhang Yu, flush with loan money, had indulged occasionally. Current Zhang Yu couldn't even afford the first floor's budget menu without doing math.
He watched Bai Zhenzhen ascend the stairs and felt the truth settle into his bones: the second floor and the first floor were two different worlds, just like the VIP line and the regular line, just like the elite class and the standard classes, just like the rich and the poor. Songyang High was not one school. It was a stack of glass ceilings, each one invisible until you hit it.
*Aren't you broke?* he wondered, watching her disappear. *How can you afford second floor?*
---
He found out after lunch.
A summons to the teacher's office. Homeroom teacher Su Haifeng — a middle-aged man with wire-rimmed glasses and the patient, weary expression of someone who had seen too many students fail for reasons beyond their control. He was also the grade director for the first-year cohort.
Sitting behind his desk, sipping tea, Su Haifeng looked at Zhang Yu with something that resembled genuine concern.
"Teacher Wang spoke to me about what happened in PE class."
Zhang Yu tensed.
"Do you remember what you told me during your admission interview?"
The question caught him off guard. He scrambled through the original body's memories, but the details were blurry. The interview had not gone well. That much he knew.
Su Haifeng sighed. "You said you wanted to get into a top university. A famous school. A great sect. I remember because you said it with such conviction."
"Now you're skipping injections. Lying on the floor during class. Arguing with your instructor. Is this the attitude of someone who wants a top university?"
Zhang Yu opened his mouth. Nothing came out. How could he explain? *I'm too poor for injections and too damaged to survive them. I awakened supernatural potential so I don't need PE class. A dark god is forcing me to train until my body gives out.*
"I—"
"Zhang Yu." Su Haifeng's voice softened. "Your performance the last three months has been solid. I know you're a good kid. Is something happening at home?"
Zhang Yu stared at him. Genuine concern. In this school. From a teacher.
"Some family issues," he said carefully. "I'll work through it. My grades will improve."
Su Haifeng frowned. "Don't hide things from your teacher. I'm here to help." He leaned forward. "Is it money? The loan companies called the school."
Zhang Yu's head snapped up. "They called you?"
Su Haifeng nodded heavily. "How else would I know how much debt you're carrying? Why didn't you tell me?"
"I didn't think..." Zhang Yu trailed off. He didn't think the school would help. He still didn't. But Su Haifeng's expression was so earnest. So paternal.
"Zhang Yu." The teacher sighed, pulling open a drawer. "I know this school can be harsh. I understand why you'd be afraid to come forward. But we are your teachers. It's our job to help."
He slid a document across the desk.
"I applied for this specially. The Poverty Student Assistance Plan. Sign it, and we can start getting your situation under control."
Zhang Yu took the papers. His throat was tight. "Teacher... thank you."
*Maybe I was wrong about this place,* he thought. *Maybe not everyone here is a predator. Maybe some of them actually—*
He looked at the document.
His heart stopped.
Su Haifeng smiled warmly. "Go on. Sign. I can submit it before end of business today."
"Teacher." Zhang Yu's voice was flat. "This is a debt consolidation contract. You gave me the wrong form."
The smile didn't waver. "Poverty students are poor because they're in debt. Restructure the debt, the poverty is resolved. That's the plan."
Zhang Yu scanned the numbers. His loans — all of them, bundled together — plus a new loan from the school to pay off the old ones. After "processing fees" and "administrative charges" and "origination costs" and a dozen other line items he couldn't parse, the total came to over one million yuan.
*Debt restructuring. It's just borrowing more to pay earlier borrowing. It's the same trap, the same cycle — just with the school as the lender instead of the loan sharks.*
"Teachers are loan sharks now," he muttered. "It's all loan sharks. The whole system."
He shoved the document back across the desk. "I'll pay it off myself."
"Zhang Yu—"
"No. Thank you. I'll handle it."
He left the office at a speed just short of running.
---
Behind him, Su Haifeng raised his teacup. Blew across the surface. Took a sip.
His phone buzzed. He answered.
"He refused."
A pause.
"I'll try again. Don't worry about it."
Another pause. A faint smile.
"They all break eventually. The debt collectors' methods are... persuasive. The poor always come back to borrow."
---
Zhang Yu walked back to class, his hands shaking. Not with fear. With the specific, clarifying rage of a man who had just understood the rules of the game.
*Even the teachers. Even the homeroom teacher.*
*There are no allies in this school. Only landlords.*