Ten Thousand Points was a huge sum for an ordinary student, but to Fūki Ran, it was merely seed money. What truly caught his attention was the inconspicuous note in the corner of the student handbook: "School-approved clubs may establish internal funds and bounties in accordance with their bylaws. Their operations are overseen by the School Administration, and they bear responsibility for their own profits and losses."
This rule left room for a true game of capital.
Fūki didn't go to the "challenge bounty" booths aimed at the general student body. Those were little more than gimmicks for ordinary students to earn pocket change. His target was several "privileged clubs" with private activity rooms and long histories. These clubs had deep roots and substantial internal funds, and they often ran "advanced challenges" or "wagering agreements" that weren't open to the public. Participants needed to meet certain requirements and be introduced.
Drawing on his memories of similar systems from his previous life and several days of quietly observing the campus's financial flows, Fūki had settled on a club called the Strategy Game Research Society. Officially, it studied board-game strategies. In practice, it was widely regarded as one of the school's "High-IQ Gambling Dens."
He didn't apply through the front entrance. Instead, he circled around to the back of the club building and, following the password pattern he had observed, entered a string of numbers that opened a concealed door to the basement activity room. Beyond it lay another world.
The spacious room was designed in the style of a High-Class Private Club, with soft lighting and a quiet atmosphere. Various games were underway at several tables: Go, shogi, chess, and even complex multiplayer strategy board games. There weren't many participants, but each carried himself with composure and had a keen gaze. Clearly, none were ordinary students. Most wore Class A or Class B badges on their chests. An invisible pressure filled the air, along with an absolute respect for intellect.
A Third-year Student who seemed to be in charge came over. He wore rimless glasses and had a shrewd look in his eyes. "New face? Class D?" He glanced at Fūki's class badge. His tone was matter-of-fact, without a hint of disdain; he was simply confirming.
"Fūki Ran. I heard you can play some... challenging games here." Fūki got straight to the point.
The person in charge raised an eyebrow and handed him an electronic tablet. It listed various non-public "events" and their corresponding "stakes." The units were no longer "points," but "K" (one thousand points). The minimum buy-in was 50K, or fifty thousand points. Events included High-Difficulty Endgame Solving (odds ranging from 1:1.5 to 1:3), Timed Blind Chess Match (odds of 1:2), and even a Short-Term Trading Competition based on real-time financial data simulations (with fluctuating odds, reaching as high as 1:10).
The stakes here were on a completely different scale from the petty games outside.
"Newcomer, do you know the rules? You provide your own stakes, bear your own profits and losses, and keep the information confidential." The person in charge was brief.
"Understood." Without hesitation, Fūki exchanged all his Ten Thousand Points for chips on the spot—200K (here, 1K represented 500 points, equivalent to 100 basic point units, so one hundred thousand points came to 200K in chips). The person in charge gave him a second look.
Fūki didn't choose an event with a large element of luck. He headed straight for the High-Difficulty Endgame Solving section. The challenges there consisted of classic dead positions and complicated midgame puzzles that even professional players needed a long time to consider. Participants had one hour to solve them, with high odds as the reward.
He chose a Go endgame with odds of 1:2.5. He put in 50K chips; success would earn him 125K.
As several Class A students nearby watched with amused curiosity—was a new Class D student really daring to try this?—Fūki sat down at the board. He didn't play immediately, instead closing his eyes as though resting. In reality, memories of Go games from his previous life and his ability to calculate beyond a computer were racing into action. Every possibility on the board and every sequence of moves that followed unfolded in his mind like a galaxy, simulated and sifted through.
Three minutes later, he opened his eyes, picked up a black stone, and placed it in a spot that seemed inconsequential.
"Hm?" A Class A Go expert watching nearby sounded puzzled.
But as Fūki played his next few moves, the lifeless black stones seemed to come alive. He precisely carved out a hidden path to survival, instantly dismantling White's encirclement. In less than ten minutes, he had solved the endgame.
The person in charge looked at the result on the screen, then silently transferred 125K chips to Fūki's account.
Fūki didn't stop. He moved on to the Timed Blind Chess Match, playing against two computers at once while memorizing two separate chess games and making his moves blind, at odds of 1:2. He put in another 50K. The outcome was beyond doubt. While his opponents were still struggling to remember the games, Fūki was already calling out every move with precision. He defeated both.
His chips had grown to 275K.
Next, he entered a small financial simulation competition. Drawing on his deep understanding of economic principles from his previous life and analytical models far ahead of their time, he seized several small fluctuations during a mere twenty minutes of simulated trading and quadrupled his initial stake.
By the time he decided he'd attracted enough attention for one day and was ready to stop, his chips had grown to an astounding 1.15M (1.15 million points). The whole process had taken less than two hours.
The activity room fell silent. Every student who had earlier looked at him with scrutiny or amusement now stared at him in shock and solemn respect. On this battlefield of intellect and capital, ability was the only pass that mattered. With an undeniable performance, Fūki had earned their silent respect.
"Cash me out." Fūki handed the chip card to the person in charge.
The person in charge looked at him deeply, asked no questions, and skillfully transferred the enormous sum of 1,150,000 points to Fūki's account. "Welcome back anytime, Fūki." His tone now carried a note of equality.
Fūki gave a slight nod and turned to leave, slipping soundlessly through the concealed door, just as he had come.
Not a single Class D student or anyone in his year had been present the whole time. This initial accumulation of capital had taken place unseen, in the shadows.
When he returned to Dorm 129 and looked at the astonishing string of numbers in his account, there was no joy on his face. This was only the beginning. The fortune would be an important lever for shifting the balance of power in his class—and even across the entire year. He didn't need to show off. He only needed to make this power's full weight felt at the crucial moment.
His classmates hadn't witnessed how he earned the points. But the results would eventually make waves when the time was right.
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