The crowd surged toward the infirmary.
The corridor was packed with people. Blood seeping from wounds dripped onto the floor and slowly vanished.
The infirmary wasn't very large, and a long queue had already formed at the entrance.
Those at the front of the line pushed the door open and went inside, only to emerge a minute later with expressions even grimmer than when they had entered.
Those further back craned their necks to peek inside, but they could see nothing. They could only catch fragments of conversation drifting out.
“We can treat you, but you must pay with your student card.”
“Your balance is insufficient.”
“The balance on your student card is your exam score.”
“No credit allowed.”
“You can apply for a loan; the school provides loan services.”
The faces of those waiting in line changed instantly upon hearing these words.
Finally, it was the turn of a burly bald man who had lost his entire right arm. He squeezed into the infirmary, stood before the doctor, and asked, “Can you fix this?”
“Yes,” the doctor replied, picking up a scanner. “Swipe your student card. It’s 50 points per treatment.”
The bald man had only scored a dozen or so points. The gap between a dozen and fifty was far too wide.
“No credit,” the doctor said bluntly, cutting off any possibility of haggling.
The bald man was used to solving problems with strength, but here, strength was useless. Now, he was like a poor man without health insurance, listening to a doctor quote a cold, astronomical medical fee.
The doctor added leisurely, “The school provides loan services. Go to the Academic Affairs Office window. Turn right out the door, walk to the end, then turn left. It’s the third door.”
The bald man sighed. The word ‘loan’ spun around in his head, followed by a flurry of terms like ‘interest,’ ‘overdue,’ and ‘debt cycling.’
He had destroyed worlds and slaughtered gods and demons, yet he never imagined that one day he would be like a destitute mortal, forced to take out a loan.
He looked down at his empty right shoulder and could feel his power slowly draining away.
Something was very wrong with this school. If he dragged this mangled body around, forget about the future—he probably wouldn't last long at all.
The loan might be a trap, but at least that was a problem for later. Right now, he needed to get his arm back on.
He gritted his teeth and turned to walk out of the infirmary.
Similar scenes played out repeatedly in the infirmary. Almost everyone who needed treatment had to head to the loan window.
The staff member at the loan window was a young woman with a sweet smile.
A stack of forms sat before her, and a sign stood to the side: ‘Student Loans: Favorable Rates, Simple Procedures, Same-Day Funding.’
The crowd lined up, filling out the forms one by one.
Someone asked about the interest rate. She smiled and said, “It’s not high.”
Someone asked about the repayment period. She said, “Up to 12 installments with flexible repayment.”
Someone asked what happened if they were overdue. She replied, “We’ll worry about that when the time comes~”
It was a sugar-coated pill. At the moment they filled out the forms, everyone felt a faint inkling that the medicine behind the coating might be very bitter.
The loans were approved with extreme speed. After filling out the form and swiping their student cards, a balance of 100 points was credited.
Then they returned to the infirmary with their cards. The doctor scanned them, performed the treatment, and the severed limbs were reattached. The bleeding stopped, and the pain vanished.
The treatment process was incredibly fast, but everyone now had a debt on their student card. The amount of that debt was much larger than their exam scores.
Some people gritted their teeth and muttered under their breath, “What the hell is wrong with this world?”
No one answered him; no one knew the answer.
“Let’s find the people who got here earlier,” a tall, thin man with glasses suddenly suggested.
“Since this is a school, it’s impossible for there to be only freshmen. There must be seniors, locals, and staff. They definitely know more than we do.”
The crowd nodded, their eyes falling on the doctor. Wasn't this a ready-made NPC?
“Doctor dear,” a beautiful woman stepped forward, her face wearing a soft, sweet smile. Her voice carried a strange, seductive allure. “Could you tell us about this world? We just arrived and don't understand anything. Why don't you give us a little talk, big brother?”
The doctor was completely unaffected by the charm. His expression remained stern. “As long as you study seriously and take your exams well, the school will be very friendly to you.”
The beautiful woman’s charm failed, so a handsome man stepped forward to continue the inquiry.
The doctor remained unmoved, repeating the same two phrases: ‘Study hard, take your exams well.’ He didn't provide a single shred of valuable information.
The others listened from the side, feeling irritated, but no one dared to use violence.
Who knew if causing a scene in the infirmary would result in even more terrifying punishment?
Left with no other choice, the crowd left the infirmary.
Finding the senior transmigrators who had arrived earlier wasn't actually that difficult.
Although the school was large, the crowd used all sorts of tricks—mental scans, clone scouts, and tracking techniques.
In no time, they had locked onto several targets.
The seniors were mostly disabled in some way, and they would go out of their way to avoid people when they saw them from a distance.
But this time, the freshmen had strength in numbers. A large group of people whose limbs had just been reattached and who were venting their pent-up anger cornered a one-armed senior in the small garden behind the laboratory building.
The senior's expression wasn't great, but he was sensible. He let out a sigh. “Are you all new?”
“Yes,” someone replied. “We’ve suffered enough since we got here. We want to know what exactly is going on with this school.”
The senior’s lip twitched as he said helplessly, “Everyone goes through this.”
“The rules are simple and brutal. Exams are the foundation of everything. Your exam score becomes the spending balance on your student card. Every activity in this school—even going back to the dormitory to rest—requires points.”
Someone gasped. What kind of capitalist campus was this? It was pure evil!
The senior continued, “Every time the results are announced, those who fail suffer punishment. A part of their body is severed. The lower the score, the more is cut off.”
“Once a limb is severed, the only way to restore it is to go to the infirmary. No other method works; only the doctor in the infirmary can reattach them.”
“But restoring a limb consumes points. Those who fail don't have many points to begin with, so they have to take out a loan. If you can't repay the loan, the interest keeps snowballing, and you fall into a vicious cycle.”
Hearing this, the crowd immediately realized the school's sinister intentions.
Perform poorly, get mutilated, take a loan to heal. For the next exam, part of the score would have to go toward repaying the loan. If they failed and were mutilated again, they’d have to take another loan.
The exam questions were so bizarre that passing was indeed difficult. Failing meant being mutilated even more severely and taking out larger loans—until they could no longer get credit and were completely executed.
The small garden fell silent for a moment. Sunlight filtered through the leaves, casting mottled shadows on everyone's faces.
Someone broke the silence, asking a fanciful question, “What if we just don't take the exams? If we don't take them, we can't fail, and all that other mess won't happen. Anyway, I don't need to eat, drink, or sleep. I can manage with zero spending.”
The senior sneered. “Do you really think the school would let you exploit a loophole like that?”
The crowd fell silent.
The senior brushed the dust off his clothes. “Those are the rules. I don't know anything else. I’m busy, so if there’s nothing else, I’ll be going.”
“Good luck to you all.”
Rate on N.U.
