Leo craned his neck, wanting to go over and join the conversation with Vincent, but seeing the man's slightly menacing gaze, he sheepishly retreated.

  Vincent's eyes slowly swept across the cafeteria. Everyone held their breath, not daring to make a sound.

  The entire hall fell silent, the air so thick it felt as if it had frozen solid.

  Only 'Emperor' Valerius maintained his proud and elegant demeanor, eating his meal unhurriedly with his left hand. When Vincent's gaze passed over him, he shot a fierce glare right back, as if he didn't take Vincent seriously at all.

  Faced with this "provocation," Vincent seemed a little displeased. The corner of his mouth twitched, and he looked as if he were about to say something but was holding himself back.

  Just then, Fly spoke up. "I say, senior, shouldn't we be going? I've been waiting for a while."

  Vincent immediately turned his head, his face once again a mask of beaming enthusiasm. "Follow me," he said.

  With that, he took Fly's hand and led him out of the cafeteria.

  The moment Vincent left, the cafeteria exploded as if a pot had boiled over.

  "That guy looked so intimidating! Is he from the Student Council?"

  "Yeah. I saw online that the reputation of the Star City High Student Council isn't very good."

  "Doesn't that mean Fly's in trouble? Being sought out by someone like that."

  "Shh! Mind your own business. Eat your food, eat your food..."

  ...

  'Emperor' Valerius watched their two figures recede into the distance, and the veins on the left hand holding his cutlery began to bulge.

  ...

  Vincent led Fly through a dense, man-made grove and out onto the sports field. The whole detour left Fly completely baffled.

  He had assumed he would be taken to the Student Council office, or at the very least, a school meeting room. But instead, he had been led to...

  The sports field?

  Well, it was lunchtime, and there weren't many students around the field, so it was a suitable place for a conversation.

  "Minister Banks, I've brought him."

  A few people were gathered in the shade of a tree by the side of the field. The one in the lead had his back to them, dressed in a suit and trousers, his hands casually tucked into his pockets in a gentlemanly fashion. It seemed this was the "Minister Banks."

  The man turned around, his sharp eyes sweeping over Fly. "You're Fly?" he asked.

  "Quite handsome, I'll give you that."

  "Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Forrest Banks, one of the six ministers of the Student Council."

  "You defeated the test robot in just under three seconds, and then, in the Martial Trials the next day, you defeated the genius of the Tarantino family, 'Emperor' Valerius. A truly remarkable achievement."

  Forrest Banks pursed his lips and gave a slight nod, then continued.

  "As for why we've sought you out, I imagine you've already heard some rumors. So, what do you say? Care to join us?"

  His voice was icy from beginning to end, as if he were a man devoid of any emotion.

  The moment his words fell, the other students standing around him quickly moved in, forming a tight circle around Fly.

  These students were all around two meters tall, even taller than Vincent, with bulging, knotted muscles that radiated a palpable sense of pressure.

  From the looks of it, if Fly dared to say a single word of refusal, they had no intention of letting him leave.

  "And what if I refuse?" Fly said coldly.

  The Student Council might seem terrifying to other freshmen, but how could Fly possibly be intimidated by their posturing?

  He met Forrest Banks's gaze directly, his attitude neither servile nor overbearing.

  Forrest Banks was momentarily taken aback, then he smiled. It wasn't the boisterous smile of Vincent, but a cold smirk, like a hunter enjoying the struggles of his prey.

  If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  He clapped his hands, seemingly "satisfied" with Fly's performance. "Not bad, not bad at all. As expected of the number one student in the year, you've got guts. You know, in the upper years, countless people beg to join the Student Council and are turned away. But your class of freshmen is quite something; so many of you have rejected us."

  Fly thought for a moment, then smiled.

  Forrest Banks seemed to consider this, and his tone softened slightly. "Mr. Fly, perhaps you have some misunderstandings about our Student Council? I know there are many unpleasant rumors circulating about us, but I'm here to clarify that those are all just misconceptions, malicious slander spread by those who are jealous of us."

  Fly thought.

  Seeing that Fly remained silent, Forrest Banks continued, "The principle of our Student Council is mutual aid among students. Simply put, when it comes to the path of Martial Studies, it's not just about personal talent; it's also about the resources your family can provide."

  "Perhaps in the first year, when you're just starting out, some students from ordinary backgrounds can achieve good results based on their own outstanding talent. But as the days of training go on, the gap between these students and those from wealthy families will gradually become apparent. Students from wealthy families can enjoy the guidance of famous tutors, use all sorts of supplements to condition their bodies, and attend various martial arts exchange events to broaden their horizons... And what about students from ordinary backgrounds? They can only rely on themselves. Over time, the gap in their strength inevitably widens."

  He paused, seeming to gauge Fly's reaction, then went on, "Our Student Council has seen far too many cases of talented Beast Warriors being left behind due to their family's financial situation. Therefore, out of a principle of care for our fellow students, we have decided to extend a helping hand to talented individuals and provide them with assistance in terms of training resources."

  "In this matter, our reputation is impeccable. If you don't believe me, you can ask the upperclassmen." With that, Forrest Banks gestured with his chin towards the tall students surrounding Fly, as if to say:

  Hearing this speech, Fly thought:

  He knew that the path of Martial Studies required a massive amount of resources. As the old saying goes, scholars can be poor, but warriors must be rich. The study of martial arts has always been an expensive endeavor. It was precisely for this reason that Fly never passed up an opportunity to make money, like when he had "conned" a thousand credits each from the three teachers.

  But then why were Genevieve and the general consensus so critical of the Student Council?

  Seeing the contemplative look on Fly's face, a hint of delight appeared in Forrest Banks's eyes. Thinking he was close to succeeding, he decided to press his advantage. "Mr. Fly's parents are just ordinary workers, aren't they?"

  "And I believe they're also under some financial pressure from a mortgage and a car loan?" Forrest Banks said with a smile.

  Those words sent a jolt of alarm through Fly.

  He had suspected that the Student Council had considerable power, but he had never imagined it was to this extent.

  The Power Assessment Test had just ended yesterday, right? The rankings were only just released this morning, right? And yet, in just a few short hours, the Student Council had already thoroughly investigated his background. This kind of ability, this kind of efficiency... it was far beyond what an ordinary student organization could explain.

  But Fly remained outwardly calm. "And what," he asked probingly, "is the price?"

  Perhaps to others, with such generous conditions being offered and a minister personally recruiting him, they would have been moved to tears of gratitude and immediately agreed. But Fly was a transmigrator. The experience of two lifetimes had taught him one thing: there is no such thing as a free lunch.

  The things that are free are always the most expensive.

  Every gift freely given has a price secretly attached.

  Forrest Banks waved his hand casually. "To call it a 'price' is a bit of an exaggeration. We are all fellow students of Star City High. It's only natural that we help each other out."

  "However..."

  He smiled, then snapped his fingers. One of the students beside him immediately presented a document with both hands.

  "A verbal promise is a bit too casual. Our Student Council has thoughtfully prepared a contract for every student. You can take a look. If there are no problems, just sign it. After that, you'll be one of us."

  Forrest Banks slowly walked over and handed the contract to Fly.

  "Please, Mr. Fly, take your time to read the contents. If you have any questions, feel free to ask me."

  Fly looked at Forrest Banks, then took the contract and began to read it carefully.

  The contract was professionally drafted, its format not much different from what he remembered from his past life.

  What surprised him was that he had expected the Student Council's contract to be full of traps, designed to squeeze every last drop out of him, like an indentured servitude agreement from the old days.

  However...

  He didn't find any predatory clauses in the contract.

  On the contrary, the terms and benefits looked quite attractive.

  For example, it offered him financial assistance for living expenses and the cost of purchasing new Skills.

  It also offered one-on-one mentorship from senior students to answer his questions. He could even team up with powerful upperclassmen to participate in Martial Trials competitions to build his résumé. (This was something Fly understood well. Back in his previous life, he had seen many average students who, through connections, teamed up with top-tier seniors to win awards and secure good jobs.)

  It all seemed fine.

  The terms of the contract seemed to be heavily in his favor.

  Could it be... that the Student Council really are the good guys, and I've misunderstood them all along?

  But then, a line of fine print on the last page caught his attention:

  His instincts screamed that it wasn't that simple. The clause was deliberately vague, and it was printed in a smaller font than the other clauses, clearly intended to be overlooked.

  The social experience of two lifetimes told Fly that the more ambiguous a clause like this was, the more unexpected and dangerous the trap it concealed.

  At this thought, his guard went up immediately.