Tax Evasion Is Shameful

In less than an hour, half the warehouse was empty.

It wasn't that they couldn't finish moving everything. They simply couldn't carry any more.

Fu Haoran looked at the mountain of supplies and waved in satisfaction. "We're pulling out."

On the way back, Wade asked, "Sir, what should we do with all this stuff?"

Fu Haoran smiled. "Hand it out and have everyone use it to pay taxes."

"Sir, this... didn't we steal all this ourselves? Who are we paying taxes to?"

"To me—and to yourselves." Fu Haoran spoke as if it were only natural. "Once you've paid the tax, the goods become your legal income. If anyone asks later, you'll have proof that you paid your taxes."

Wade still didn't quite understand why they had to go to all this trouble, but an order was an order.

Early the next morning, Ronan and a dozen of his men carried boxes to the tax office.

Since they were on the same side, the process went by in a flash.

They filled out forms, had the goods appraised, and paid 50%.

The money went from one pocket to the other, but the tax receipts were real.

Ronan clutched the thin slip of paper and stood outside the tax office, frozen for a long while.

"So... it's legal now?"

A soldier beside him leaned over. "Boss, look at this."

He held out a Mid-Hive Residency Permit.

Ronan took it. His name and identification number were printed on it.

The tax collector's words still echoed in his ears. "The new residential area is being renovated. Once it's ready, you can bring your family to live there. Just register with this permit."

Ronan turned the residency permit over and over three times.

Born and raised in the Lower Hive, Ronan had never dared to imagine he might get a Mid-Hive Residency Permit in his lifetime.

He turned to look at his dozen or so men. Every one of them clutched an identical permit.

"Boss, is this... for real?"

Ronan tucked the permit into his shirt and nodded firmly. "The governor gave them to us. Why would they be fake?!"

Not far away, several Lower Hive refugees crouched in a corner, watching the whole thing unfold.

Their expressions shifted from confusion to shock as they whispered among themselves.

"Isn't that Ronan, that Lower Hive rat? What are they holding?"

"Looks like... Mid-Hive Residency Permits? I heard you can only get one if you pay taxes!"

"Seriously? They just carried boxes into the tax office. Did they actually... pay their taxes?"

Amid the murmuring, someone couldn't help jumping up and hurrying back.

A tiny spark had become a raging wildfire.

The news spread quickly.

It didn't come from the Lower Hive. It came from within the Planetary Defense Force.

"Have you heard? The people who earned military merit last time all got Mid-Hive Residency Permits. I hear they even got houses."

"Yeah, I saw the permits. They'll be able to move to the Mid-Hive next month, apparently."

"How did they pull that off? That's the Mid-Hive! Only the rich and nobles can live there!"

"I heard they paid in a stash of stolen money and bought the permits!"

"That's a thing? Are you sure?" an old soldier asked urgently.

"How could it be fake? You remember Ronan, right? The one who earned first-class merit in the Promethium Factory battle last month? He's moved to the Mid-Hive now."

"I got word that a map's been circulating in the Lower Hive. You just have to raid the places marked on it, then pay taxes on what you take, and it becomes legal income. The only catch is that they take half the loot. No other downsides."

The old soldier took a deep drag on his cigarette. "I've seen that map. A few of my childhood friends work there. Maybe we'll get a chance too."

"Really? You thinking of pulling a job?" The other old soldiers immediately perked up.

"Yeah. Our governor has a great reputation. He even kept his word to the gang traitors. You think he'd screw us over?"

The men looked at each other, then made up their minds on the spot.

"Fine. If you can find an insider, we'll pull a job. But let's test the waters first. Safety comes first."

"Right. As long as we confirm it's real, we'll have plenty of opportunities."

Anyone who made it into the Defense Force was a standout among civilians. Who didn't know a few people?

Before long, small crews sprang up one after another, using every means at their disposal to kick off a series of zero-cost shopping sprees.

At last, the people of the Lower Hive couldn't sit still any longer.

Three days later, the first Lower Hive resident walked into the tax office. He had a scar on his face and led a small Lower Hive gang. No one knew his name; everyone called him Scarface.

He carried two boxes of Adamantium ingots, his eyes wary and uncertain.

"Can... can I pay taxes on this stuff?"

The tax collector glanced at the ingots and handed him a form. "Fill this out, get it appraised, and pay 50%."

Scarface filled out the form, paid the money, and received a tax receipt.

He clutched the slip of paper and stood there, stunned for a long while. "So... it's legal now?"

"It's legal." The tax collector stamped the form. "You're still two thousand Throne Coin points short of qualifying for a Mid-Hive Residency Permit."

A notice had already been posted outside the tax office: once your cumulative tax payments reached 5,000 Throne Coins, you could apply for a Mid-Hive Residency Permit and become eligible to buy a home.

Scarface walked out and stood by the entrance for five minutes, rubbing the tax receipt over and over.

He couldn't understand how stolen money could now sit openly in his pocket.

The next day, a line formed outside the tax office.

Some carried Adamantium ingots, some weapons, some food.

One particularly bold person even carried in the core components of a Chimera Armored Vehicle to pay his taxes.

In three days, the tax office had collected more than three million Throne Coins.

Yuri stared at the ledger, his hands trembling. "This actually works?"

Fu Haoran glanced at him. "Why wouldn't it?"

"But..." Yuri pointed at the ledger. "All this money is stolen!"

"It's tax revenue now." Fu Haoran smiled. "And have you noticed? To pay taxes, these people first have to sell their goods or have them appraised."

"All the stolen goods hidden in the Lower Hive's nooks and crannies have been dug up."

Wade nodded. "It's like getting a free inventory of their assets."

"Exactly," Fu Haoran said. "But we can't just sit back and wait. We need to catch a few troublemakers and make an example of them."

"Iron Skull" Capone had once been a low-ranking member of the Iron Hand Gang. After Jack died, he took in the remnants of the gang and rose to power again in the Lower Hive.

He led his men in raiding a secret Silverthorn House warehouse, making off with all the weapons and Promethium inside.

Then he didn't pay a single coin in taxes.

One of his men asked, "Boss, about the tax office..."

"Tax office, my ass!" Capone slammed the table. "I've got no time to pay that dog of a governor when I still need to avenge Jack!"

He sneered. "If Fu Haoran's got what it takes, let him come after me. I'll hide in the bottom of the Hive. Let's see how he finds us there!"

What Capone didn't know was that he'd been under surveillance for a long time.

In the corner, an inconspicuous Scarab relayed every conversation and image back without missing a single word.

And so, at three in the morning...

The Planetary Defense Force surrounded Capone's hideout from every direction.

He led more than two hundred men in an attempt to break through. The moment they charged out the door, they came face-to-face with the barrels of three Leman Russ Tanks.

"Drop your weapons!" Wade's voice boomed from the loudspeaker. "You are suspected of tax evasion and are under arrest!"

Capone froze.

"Tax evasion?"

"Robbing people isn't a crime, but tax evasion is?" he roared. "What kind of bullshit logic is that?!"

Wade's calm voice came through the loudspeaker. "Evading taxes is defying the Emperor's will!"

Capone roared, "Fu Haoran! If you've got the guts, come fight me face-to-face! Using tax evasion charges to get me—what kind of hero does that make you?!"

No one answered him.

The heavy Boltguns began picking off targets.

Suddenly, one of the gang members behind Capone threw down his weapon and raised his hands. "I'll pay taxes! I'll pay taxes! Don't kill me!"

Then a second man followed, and then a third.

When Capone turned around, one of his own men plunged a knife into his lower back.

The man panted. "Sorry, boss. The governor said paying taxes keeps you alive."

Capone fell, his eyes still open.

Twenty minutes later, his corpse was turned into the night's batch of Corpse Starch.

The next day, the news spread throughout the Hive City.

"Have you heard? Capone got wiped out."

"Why? For robbery?"

"No, for tax evasion."

"Tax evasion? Robbery's fine, but tax evasion gets you killed?"

"Right. Pay taxes on stolen goods and it's legal. Evade taxes and you're dead."

The Lower Hive gang members looked at one another.

"So... we should pay our taxes, then."

"Yeah, yeah. Pay taxes and stay alive."

Once more, a long line formed outside the tax office.

Fu Haoran watched as the system notification popped up:

[Achievement Unlocked: Peerless Tax Collector]

[Reward: Universal Points +5000, Free Attribute Points: 5, Hive City Income +50%]

[Congratulations! You've successfully turned robbers into taxpayers. Next, will you make Chaos Cultists pay taxes too?]

Fu Haoran closed the interface and turned to the holographic map.

It showed the locations where stolen goods had been stashed, seized over the past three days. Red dots crowded the map, covering nearly every corner of the Lower Hive.

Wade hesitated, then asked, "Sir, if everyone pays taxes, what happens to the gangs in the Lower Hive?"

"The gangs will still be around. They'll just live differently," Fu Haoran said. "Now they're busy stealing things to pay taxes and earn points for residency permits. They don't have time to be the nobles' dogs."

"Besides, it's time to begin the second phase of our harvesting plan."

Yuri was stunned. "What? You've already taken half of their stolen money. What else are you going to take?"

"I'll warn you now: people in the Lower Hive have the least sense of security. Getting them to hand over any more money will be harder than climbing to heaven!"

Fu Haoran smiled confidently. "Trust me. I'll make them hand over the money willingly."