Rain hammered down like artillery shells.
Droplets exploded against the armored truck's twisted roof in a relentless percussion that sounded like war drums announcing the apocalypse.
Ethan Su kicked open the door, carefully placing his unconscious sister among the scattered bills that covered the back seat like worthless confetti.
He turned.
His gaze swept over two "damaged assets" lying in the muddy alley.
Marcus "Fatty" Wang sprawled face-down, both legs twisted at impossible angles, a crimson trail marking his path through the mire. He struggled to roll over, chest wheezing like a punctured bellows.
"E-Ethan..."
Blood masked Fatty's face as he fumbled for a crushed cigarette pack in his jacket. His lighter slipped in wet fingers, refusing to spark.
"This body's... totaled."
He managed a bitter laugh, blood frothing at his lips. "Don't worry about me. Take Little Su and run. Next life... I'll be your meat shield again."
Nearby, Lyra Qing slumped against the truck's wheel, pale as death itself.
Her god-slaying strike had drained every ounce of spiritual energy and karmic fortune. Now she couldn't even lift her hand, meridians withered like autumn leaves.
"Mortal flesh bearing divine might—all channels severed. This is heaven's punishment."
Lyra's voice carried the resigned acceptance of cultivators facing inevitable fate. "Ethan, give him a quick end. Don't let him suffer."
Ethan stood motionless in the downpour.
Rain streamed down his wire-rimmed glasses, but couldn't hide the cold calculation in his eyes behind the lenses.
No mercy. No emotion.
Only frantically scrolling data streams.
**[ASSET NAME: Marcus Wang (Employee 001)]**
**[STATUS: Severely Damaged (99% Depreciation)]**
**[CORE COMPONENTS: Shattered Kneecaps, Ruptured Liver, 6x Fractured Ribs]**
**[ASSESSMENT: High Repair Value Detected]**
"Quick end?"
Ethan adjusted his glasses, pulling a pulsing golden crystal from his pocket.
The Radiant Ancestor's divine core.
Even in the torrential rain, it radiated suffocating heat. Raindrops vaporized into white mist before touching its surface, repelled by the violent divine aura contained within.
"In my company, wanting to die without approval counts as going AWOL."
Ethan's tone remained flat, like discussing a malfunctioning printer.
Lyra stared at the crystal, her lifeless eyes suddenly blazing with alarm.
That was concentrated divine resentment—pure pollution and curses!
"What are you doing?!"
She tried reaching for her sword hilt, but her fingers wouldn't obey. "That's corrupted godhood! Direct contact will instantly pollute your mind, turn you into a mindless killing machine! Throw it away!"
Cultivation world iron law: Divine souls must not be touched. Contact meant madness.
Ethan ignored her completely.
He studied the crystal in his palm, bloody ledgers in his eyes transforming into precision surgical instruments.
**[INITIATING: Bad Asset Stripping Protocol]**
**[TARGET: Divine Core Fragment (High Contamination/High Risk)]**
**[OPERATION: Cleanse Liabilities (Will), Preserve Net Assets (Essence)]**
**[PROCESSING FEE: All Current Reserve Experience]**
"Pollution?"
Black-red data mist rose from Ethan's palm, instantly enveloping the shrieking divine core.
"That's poor people talk."
"In my business, this is called 'money laundering.'"
*SIZZLE*—!
Teeth-grinding electrical sounds exploded through the air.
The divine core convulsed violently, as if countless vengeful spirits were screaming within, then fell silent.
Black smoke dissipated.
Three drops of pure golden liquid floated at Ethan's fingertips.
No evil. No malice.
Only energy refined to absolute purity—the physical manifestation of universal essence, emanating an intoxicating sweet fragrance.
Lyra froze completely.
Her worldview crumbled in that instant.
Rule contamination that even Transcendence-stage cultivators feared—this mortal had... laundered it clean?
Ethan had no time for her stupor.
He walked to Fatty and crouched down.
"Stop whimpering."
Ethan gripped Fatty's chin, forcing his mouth open. "As a meat shield, your durability rating is definitely subpar."
"This counts as workplace injury. Company covers full medical."
He flicked his finger.
*Whoosh!*
One golden drop shot into Fatty's mouth like a bullet of light.
"No!" Lyra screamed. "That's divine essence! Mortal flesh will instantly explode from—"
*CREAK*—!
Bone-chilling metallic grinding sounds cut her off.
Fatty didn't explode.
His muscles suddenly contracted, skin rippling as if steel cables writhed beneath the surface.
Shattered bones reassembled frantically under his flesh, producing sounds like forging steel.
His pallid skin flushed with blood, then transformed into textured dark gold.
No comical bouncing around.
Only the heavy presence of overflowing power.
Fatty slowly stood.
Every movement produced deep rumbling from his skeleton.
He stared at his perfectly healed legs in bewilderment, then experimentally clenched his fist.
*BANG!*
Air compressed and exploded.
A visible shockwave erupted from his knuckles.
**[EMPLOYEE: Marcus Wang]**
**[LEVEL: Lv.5 → Lv.9]**
**[PHYSIQUE RECONSTRUCTION: Vajra Body (Physical Damage Resistance +35%)]**
"Holy shit..."
Fatty examined his hands, voice deepened by enhanced vocal cords. "Ethan, I feel like I could tank a freight train now."
"That drop could buy ten of your lives."
Ethan produced a handkerchief, methodically cleaning his fingertips. "Be more aggressive tanking damage from now on. Don't make me operate at a loss."
Fatty grinned—less foolish now, more predatorily fierce.
He silently positioned himself before the armored truck like an iron tower, blocking all wind and rain.
Ethan turned.
His gaze fell on Lyra.
This former saint now looked at him like he was a madman playing with the laws of creation.
Fear.
And barely concealed hunger for evolution.
"I..."
Lyra instinctively wanted to refuse—a cultivator's final pride.
"The First Tax Bureau doesn't support freeloaders or deadweight."
Ethan gave her no choice.
*Whoosh!*
The second golden drop shot through the air, ignoring her weak protective aura to merge with her forehead.
"Consider this a signing bonus. Advance salary."
*BOOM!*
A spiritual energy storm suddenly erupted in the narrow alley.
Before Lyra could react, her withered dantian flooded with golden torrents.
That power was absolutely domineering, instantly clearing all blockages in her body.
The bottleneck that had plagued her for three years shattered like tissue paper.
*Crack.*
Something like shackles broke inside her.
Lyra stared at her fingertips in disbelief.
The sword qi flowing there was ten times purer than before, carrying a trace of divine authority that demanded submission.
Breakthrough?
Ten years of bitter cultivation with no progress, now achieved with a single "salary payment"?
Her pride, her dao heart—they seemed so laughable before this man's naked "transactional principles."
Dismantling gods, quantifying rules, turning cultivation into business.
This was... his Way?
"That drop counts as a loan."
Ethan's voice could freeze hell. "Interest compounds daily, deducted from your future performance bonuses."
He fed the final golden drop to his sister, then settled back into the money-filled driver's seat.
Crossing his legs, he watched Lyra through the rearview mirror as she stood stunned in the rain.
"Surprised by this?"
Ethan's lips curved in mockery.
"This is just our company's 'benefits package.'"
"Work hard."
His lenses flashed coldly. "Meet your quotas, and forget immortality—even godhood is just a year-end bonus."
Rain continued falling.
The arrogance in Lyra's eyes crumbled to dust.
She drew a deep breath of blood-scented air, slowly sheathed her sword, and bowed deeply toward the man in the vehicle.
This time, it had nothing to do with contracts.
Only the profits that could overturn the heavens themselves.
"Security Captain Lyra Qing... awaits orders."
Inside the truck, Ethan ignored her pledge of loyalty.
A new red coordinate was flashing frantically in his vision.
**[WARNING: Host Currently in Zero Fixed Assets State]**
**[RECOMMENDATION: Establish Tax Bureau Headquarters Immediately]**
**[SCAN RESULTS: 3km Distance, High-Value "Illegal Tax Haven" Detected—Old District Underground Black Market]**
**[MISSION: The First Tax Bureau Needs Proper Office Space. Acquire It.]**
Ethan glanced at the coordinates, greed flickering in his eyes.
"Fatty, drive."
"Where to, boss?"
Ethan closed his eyes, fingers tapping rhythmically against his knee.
"Old District Black Market."
"We're going property shopping."
The armored truck's engine roared to life, cutting through the storm toward their next acquisition. In the back seat, his sister stirred slightly, the divine essence already working to heal whatever damage the kidnappers had inflicted.
Lyra climbed into the passenger seat, water dripping from her robes. "The Crimson Serpent Syndicate controls the black market. They have three Lv.30+ enforcers and—"
"Tax evaders," Ethan interrupted, not opening his eyes. "All of them."
Through the rain-streaked windshield, the city's neon lights blurred into streams of color. Somewhere in that maze of steel and glass, criminals thought they could hide their wealth from the taxman.
They were about to learn otherwise.
The First Tax Bureau was open for business.