The world warped. The grim metal walls of the Warhammer World faded away, replaced by the familiar ceiling of his rented apartment.
Fu Haoran opened his eyes and found himself back in the apartment he knew so well.
"I've been gone for a year. My family must be worried..."
Fu Haoran glanced at his phone.
"Huh? Wait, isn't this the date from before I got transported?!"
As Fu Haoran wondered what was going on, he caught sight of the system's countdown ticking away.
No time to think. Fu Haoran grabbed his car keys and rushed out.
He opened the car door, turned the key, and hit the gas in one fluid motion.
Before he was transported, Fu Haoran had been a new hire, sent by his company to Eagle Nation to take over maintenance of the automated sorting system at a Costco warehouse store.
That was why he'd rented an apartment only a few hundred meters from that Costco. It took less than three minutes to drive there.
Fu Haoran pushed a shopping cart through the canned food section, sweeping everything into it.
Braised pork, black bean fish, luncheon meat, peaches, corn kernels... Whatever the flavor, he didn't care about the price. He swept entire rows into his cart.
Foreign shoppers nearby kept casting him strange looks.
Finally, a passerby couldn't help asking, "Hey, man, what are you doing? Is the world ending?"
"Company outing," Fu Haoran tossed over his shoulder, then charged toward the checkout with two carts piled high.
When Fu Haoran charged toward the checkout with a third cart piled high, the young cashier's face turned green.
A woman waiting in line behind him lost her patience. "What the heck? If you want canned food in bulk, go to a wholesale market!"
Fu Haoran didn't even look back. "There's no time! Aliens are coming!"
The woman rolled her eyes.
In a way, Fu Haoran hadn't lied.
Finally, just as Fu Haoran reached the apartment building, the system prompt sounded again:
[The Tax Collector Flagship has entered planetary orbit. Reincarnator, return to the Governor's Office immediately.]
Fu Haoran didn't dare delay. He immediately willed the system to store everything.
Strictly speaking, in the Warhammer Universe, Inquisitors weren't responsible for collecting taxes. They only supervised the process.
That was because Inquisitors wielded immense power over life and death. If they took a dislike to you, they could brand a planet traitorous and execute you on the spot without a second thought.
Fu Haoran had no idea whether the canned food he'd bought would suit the other party's tastes. He could only take a gamble.
He was betting that these cheap cans from the 2K Era could open the door to negotiations.
After all, in a world where everyone gnawed on Corpse Starch, a mouthful of hot braised beef was enough to tempt any Imperial bureaucrat.
When he opened his eyes again, Fu Haoran was back in the Governor's Office.
Sunlight streamed through a scratched porthole and fell on the towering stacks of canned food. Their metal shells gleamed coldly.
Fu Haoran looked at these products, each of which had cost less than twenty yuan at the supermarket. Now they were his only bargaining chips. It felt like wagering a planet's fate with a plastic toy gun.
Fu Haoran straightened his ill-fitting governor's uniform and issued an order through the communicator. "Prepare to receive our guest with the highest honors. Take the canned food and water to the banquet hall. Heat some of it and serve it on plates."
Fu Haoran brought up the orbital surveillance feed. A warship was tearing through The Veil of reality, slowly entering planetary orbit.
It was five kilometers long, its hull black as a coffin.
A gigantic emblem was painted on its flank. Twin Macro-cannon batteries bristled at the bow, while dense rows of Las-cannon emplacements lined the sides like a hedgehog's spines.
Its bridge towered overhead, antenna arrays on the roof shimmering faintly with data streams.
A Lunar-class Cruiser.
One of the Imperial Navy's main warships.
A vessel like this had enough firepower to wipe the upper levels of a Hive City off the map.
Fu Haoran leaned back in his chair, watching the massive ship descend like Judgment Day on the screen. Suddenly, he let out a low laugh.
"I have to pay off three hundred years of debt right from the start... No wonder it's an SSS-difficulty mission. It throws you straight into a dead end."
"It all comes down to this."
A Thunderhawk Gunship tore through the clouds above the Hive City and slammed down in the Governor's Office plaza.
The hatch opened, and Inquisitor Makarov strode out.
Six Stormtroopers stood behind him like iron towers, their Bolters pointed down, fingers hooked firmly around the trigger guards.
Fu Haoran went to meet them. Behind him stood a ceremonial guard of a hundred veterans from the Guard Regiment—the best show of force his adjutant, Wade, could muster.
But compared to the blood-soaked aura of the stars around Makarov's entourage, they looked like a band of local militia.
Makarov gave them a once-over, making no effort to hide his contempt.
"Welcome." Fu Haoran held out his hand.
Makarov ignored it. He took a Data Pad from his adjutant and handed it directly to Fu Haoran.
[Overview of Tax Arrears for Planet S-Sai IV: 300 standard years]
Astronomical figures scrolled past, finally stopping at the grand total in bright red.
"I am Arbitrator Makarov. I have been ordered to collect the overdue Tithe. You have two choices: pay the full amount, or... be executed for treason under Chapter Four of the Imperial Sacred Tax Code."
Fu Haoran's heart clenched, but he kept his expression calm.
He turned and gestured toward dozens of standard cargo containers covered by tarpaulins along one side of the plaza. "The supplies I managed to gather are ready for inspection, sir. Shall we go inside to discuss the details?"
Makarov stared at him for two seconds, as if looking at a dead dog.
At last, he gave a slight nod.
The banquet hall.
The long table was bare, with only two chairs set out.
An attendant brought in water.
After taking a sip, Makarov looked a little surprised.
No strange taste?!
No metallic tang from the recycled water system, no faint hint of humus and radioactive dust that could never be removed from the Hive City's purified water.
Makarov set down his glass, his scrutiny deepening. "Governor, you've surprised me."
"Before I came here, the reports I reviewed said that S-Sai IV's water purification system had been out of commission since the battle three years ago."
"It seems your capabilities far exceed what the records say."
Fu Haoran smiled but didn't respond.
Then the food arrived.
There was no elaborate cooking, just simple reheating.
Makarov instinctively pulled out his military knife, prepared for a grown Ant-Ox to come charging out of one of the cans.
Over the course of Makarov's not especially long career, he'd had several run-ins with Ant-Ox canned food. Every year, some fool would forget the cardinal rule before opening a can: stab it at least seven times with a combat knife before eating.
However, Makarov noticed that no one there was carrying a Lasgun fitted with a bayonet or a flamethrower. The guards weren't carrying an assortment of heavy weapons, either. This left him deeply dissatisfied.
They hadn't even prepared properly, yet they dared to eat canned food!
Makarov had no choice but to pull his Bolter out from under the table.
Meanwhile, Fu Haoran, the host, hadn't noticed a thing. He clumsily opened a can.
Click!
That wasn't the sound of the can opening. It was the sound of Makarov chambering a round in his Bolter.
The atmosphere in the room turned a little awkward.
Fu Haoran wondered if the Inquisitor was really going to execute him just for opening a can.
Makarov, for his part, had realized it wasn't Ant-Ox canned food and relaxed.
Fortunately, the awkwardness eased when the rich, pure aroma of braised beef wafted out of the can.
Makarov's Adam's apple bobbed almost imperceptibly. His grip on the Bolter loosened, and though his voice remained cold, it held a little less menace. "Governor, how long do you intend to keep me waiting?"
Fu Haoran's heart, which had been in suspense all this time, finally settled. He pushed the can toward Makarov, feigning calm. "Please, sir. It's just been heated."
Fu Haoran maintained his composure, but his heart was pounding.
"It all comes down to this one bite."
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