From Bullets To Billions novel Chapter 672

Chapter 672: A Disgusting Name

The sun had barely begun to crest over the horizon when three first-year students, draped in oversized hoodies and dark circles under their eyes, began a frantic trek across the university courtyard. Their movements were jerky, marked by a nervous rhythm of looking over their shoulders every few seconds. It was a telltale sign of individuals who were not only out of their element but deeply terrified of being caught in a place they didn’t belong. They were crossing the invisible border that separated the academic halls from the sports department—the domain where the physical elite of the university held absolute sway.

The sprawling soccer field loomed ahead, its lush green surface sparkling with morning dew. In the center of the pitch, a senior was already deep into his warm-up routine, his movements fluid and athletic. As the three freshmen approached the sidelines, the senior paused, his eyes locking onto them with a sudden, predatory brightness. A wide, knowing smile spread across his face, the expression of a salesman who knew exactly what his customers were craving.

"Let me guess," the senior called out, wiping sweat from his brow with a towel. "You’re back already? Looking to replenish the product, right? There are always those who are a bit too curious—those who dive in headfirst and burn through their initial supply way too fast. Don’t sweat it; I’ve got you covered."

He walked over to a heavy athletic bag resting on the bench and reached inside, pulling out a small black velvet pouch. It was identical to the ones handed out at the bowling alley party.

The freshmen converged on him, their eyes lighting up with a desperate, frantic energy. The "high" of the previous night had worn off, leaving them in a state of cognitive withdrawal that made the upcoming day’s lectures seem like an impossible mountain to climb.

"Yes, that’s exactly what I need," one of the students gasped, reaching for the bag. "I’ve never been able to focus like that before. Usually, I can only study for twenty minutes before my mind wanders, but last night... it was like I could see the information before it was even on the page."

"Exactly," the second student chimed in, his voice trembling with excitement. "After the party, I went back to my dorm and started reading. I was able to memorize three Chapters of advanced economics in an hour. It felt like my brain was finally working on overdrive, the way it was always meant to."

The senior moved to hand over the pouch, but just as the freshman’s fingers brushed the velvet, he pulled it back sharply. His smile didn’t fade, but his eyes turned cold and transactional.

"Now, wait just a second. You didn’t think you’d be getting a refill for free, did you? The first one was a gift—a little sample of the good life to welcome you to the family. But from here on out, there’s a price. Did you bring what we talked about?"

The three freshmen nodded in unison, reaching into their bags to produce the payment. This was the dark undercurrent of Donto Stern’s operation that Max had already begun to piece together. There was a deliberate strategy behind which departments had been selected for the initial distribution. Donto didn’t just pick names out of a hat; he targeted two specific categories of students.

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