Downtown General Hospital. Rain hammered the earth like bullets from heaven's machine gun.
Dozens of armored vehicles choked the entrance, searchlights carving through darkness like surgical blades to pin a lone figure in the storm's embrace.
Ethan Su folded his broken umbrella, passing it to Marcus "Fatty" Wang, who trembled behind him like a leaf in a hurricane.
Ten meters away stood the city's power ceiling—Lv.40 Berserker, Zhao Tianba.
"Ethan Su."
Zhao toyed with a golden badge, eyes holding the casual contempt reserved for insects about to be crushed. "I thought you'd hide like a rat forever. Where is it?"
Behind him, Sophia Reyes huddled in a blanket, torn between wanting to watch Ethan die and fearing what she might see.
Ethan adjusted his glasses with methodical precision, lenses reflecting lightning in pale flashes.
"Chairman Zhao, you've misunderstood something fundamental."
Ethan raised his hand. No physical object appeared, but in his vision, a blood-red tax bill unfurled like a banner of war.
"I'm not here to pay tribute."
His lips curved into a smile that revealed teeth white as tombstones. "I'm here to collect taxes."
Zhao froze for half a heartbeat, then exploded into deafening laughter that shook windows three blocks away.
"Collect taxes? From me?"
"Your brain's finally snapped!"
*BOOM*—!
Lv.40 pressure erupted without restraint, turning raindrops into instant mist!
Fatty collapsed into muddy water with a wet thud, blood streaming from his eyes and nose. "E-Ethan! Kneel! My bones are cracking!"
This was level suppression—the unbridgeable chasm between mortals and high-tier Awakened.
Zhao stepped forward, each footfall making the earth tremble, eyes cruel as winter. "Since you won't kneel willingly, I'll just saw off your legs."
However.
At the storm's epicenter, Ethan stood unmoved. Not even his hair stirred.
Golden light exploded in his pupils as system panels cascaded across his vision.
**[TARGET: Zhao Tianba (Lv.40)]**
**[VIOLATION: Abuse of Authority, Illegal Intimidation]**
**[TAX TYPE: Balance Sense Tax, Gravity Usage Tax]**
**[RATE: 100% Confiscation!]**
Ethan snapped his fingers at empty air.
"According to audit results, your 'standing privileges' have been revoked."
Something impossible happened.
Zhao, mid-step, suddenly lost all connection between his legs and the earth below.
Not slipping—his brain's concept of "balance" had been forcibly deleted!
"What the—"
Zhao's eyes widened in horror as his body defied physics, pitching forward.
No external force touched him. The invincible Branch Chairman, like a giant infant learning to walk, face-planted and—
Slid into a perfect kowtow at Ethan's feet!
*THUNK!*
His forehead struck Ethan's shoe tip with meaty finality.
Absolute silence.
Only rain continued its relentless percussion.
Elite soldiers gripping rifles stared in disbelief. Was their Chairman... performing a formal bow?
"Impossible!"
Zhao's face pressed into mud, trying to rise but finding his limbs completely unresponsive, flopping like a beached fish.
"Sorcery! What dark magic did you use!"
Ethan looked down, lifted his foot, and ground it into Zhao's skull without ceremony.
"Sorcery?"
Ethan gazed at that twisted face with the cold indifference of an emotionless ATM.
"This is a violation penalty."
Sophia's eyes rolled back, terror making her lose bladder control.
Even Chairman Zhao was kneeling? What kind of monster was Ethan?!
"Kill him! Open fire!" Zhao shrieked hysterically. "Turn him into paste!"
*Rat-tat-tat*—!
Dozens of muzzles spat fire simultaneously.
"We're dead!" Fatty squeezed his eyes shut, raising his shield in desperation.
But the expected bullet storm never came.
**[TAX ITEM: Metal Durability]**
**[STATUS: Full Confiscation]**
*Crack-crack-crack*...
Teeth-grinding corrosion sounds filled the air.
Soldiers watched in horror as their high-tech rifles—barrels rusted completely in half a second, firing pins crumbled, entire weapons aging a thousand years in moments, crumbling into red iron dust.
Ethan stood in the rain, completely unharmed.
In everyone's eyes, he looked more demonic than any demon.
"Any other assets to declare?" Ethan applied pressure with his foot, Zhao's skull producing ominous creaking sounds.
"You forced me to this..."
In desperation, madness flashed in Zhao's eyes.
"You forced me! We'll all die together!"
*Crack.*
He crushed a purple talisman in his palm.
*RUMBLE*—!
The sky tore open, revealing a massive purple-black vortex.
An aura infinitely more powerful than Zhao's—truly belonging to a "god"—descended with crushing weight!
At the vortex's center, a colossal eye slowly opened, gazing down at the ants below with cosmic indifference.
**[WARNING! Lv.90+ Astral Entity Projection Descending!]**
**[WARNING! Power Gap Too Vast, Cannot Collect Taxes!]**
**[RECOMMENDATION: Immediate Evacuation!]**
Ethan felt his blood freeze, bones creaking under pressure like he carried a mountain on his shoulders.
This was true divine might.
"Mortal."
The eye spoke with thunder that shattered every hospital window. "Usurper of authority. Die."
Terrifying pressure descended. Ethan's knees bent, blood vessels bursting, but he gritted his teeth and refused to yield even an inch.
Kneel to these livestock farmers?
In his dreams!
"I am..." Blood streamed from Ethan's seven orifices, yet he still grinned maniacally, raising his middle finger to the sky. "I am your grandfather!"
Just as divine punishment prepared to level the hospital—
*Whoosh*—!
A cold sword light, without flourish or ceremony, suddenly slashed from the eastern night sky.
Like a hot knife through butter.
That terrifying divine eye projection was cleaved perfectly in half by a single stroke!
"AHHH—!"
A piercing divine shriek echoed across the heavens as the projection shattered into countless light particles.
The rain stopped.
A girl in ancient robes, sword strapped to her back, descended like a banished immortal.
She positioned herself before Ethan, turning to examine him.
Eyes cold as moonlight studied him with three parts disdain, seven parts relief.
"Finally found you."
Her voice rang clear but carried thousand-mile frost. "The only... tax evader."
Saved?
Ethan gasped, wiping blood from his lips.
But he didn't thank her. His taut nerves stretched even tighter.
Because in his special vision, this savior's head displayed no health bar, no mana bar.
Only a string of golden numbers that stopped his heart:
**[TARGET: Lyra Qing (Mysterious Sword Cultivator)]**
**[TAX OWED: ∞ (Infinite)]**
The system screamed in his mind with unprecedented excitement:
**[HOST!! This is a premium target!!]**
**[Collect from her! Just collect from her and jump straight to Lv.100! Now! Immediately!]**
Ethan stared at this ethereal girl, swallowing saliva mixed with blood.
Gratitude vanished from his eyes, replaced by the greed of a capitalist spotting a unicorn IPO.
"Miss."
Ethan adjusted his glasses, revealing an extremely "benevolent" smile.
"This business deal... just got very interesting."
Behind them, Zhao struggled to his feet, legs still unsteady. "You think one sword girl can save you? I'll call the entire Alliance! Every branch! You're dead, Ethan Su!"
But Ethan wasn't listening. His golden eyes remained fixed on Lyra, calculating, measuring.
*Infinite debt.*
The system pulsed with hunger in his mind, showing projection after projection of what that kind of collection could yield. Power beyond imagination. Authority over concepts themselves.
Lyra seemed to sense his gaze, her hand drifting to her sword hilt. "Your eyes... they're different. What are you really?"
"A tax collector," Ethan said simply. "And you, Miss Qing, appear to have some... outstanding obligations."
The air between them crackled with tension. Around the hospital, more vehicles arrived—Alliance reinforcements, their headlights cutting through the darkness like searching eyes.
Fatty grabbed Ethan's sleeve. "Boss, we need to run! More are coming!"
But Ethan stood his ground, studying Lyra with the intensity of a predator sizing up prey. She had saved him, yes. But in his world, everyone owed taxes. Even gods. Even sword immortals who could slice divine projections in half.
Especially them.
"Tell me, Miss Qing," Ethan said, his voice carrying new authority. "When was the last time you filed a return on your... supernatural abilities?"
Lyra's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What are you implying?"
"I'm implying," Ethan stepped closer, rain beginning to fall again, "that someone with infinite debt might want to consider... alternative payment arrangements."
The system whispered seductively: *[She could work for you. Imagine—a sword immortal as your enforcer. The entire world would pay their taxes on time.]*
Ethan's smile widened, showing those tombstone teeth again.
"How do you feel about employment opportunities, Miss Qing? I'm thinking of opening a new branch office. The First Tax Bureau. And I need... specialized staff."
Thunder rolled overhead as if the heavens themselves were laughing at the audacity of a mortal trying to recruit a god-slayer as his employee.
But Ethan had learned something important tonight: everyone, no matter how powerful, had something they owed. And he was very, very good at collecting debts.