A High-Stakes Gamble

Ronan and the others moved into the Honeycomb Building, and the news set the Lower Hive abuzz that very night.

"Did you hear? Ronan's people moved into Mid-Hive!"

"Seriously? I thought they were going to make do in tents."

"Forget tents! The governor renovated a Honeycomb Building. Each floor has dozens of apartments, and there's a cafeteria, shops, and a security post inside. Lock the doors, and it's a fortress!"

"But what if the governor changes his mind and kicks us out?"

"Changes his mind, my ass! The first ones in were all from the Planetary Defense Force. Is the governor going to screw over his own people?"

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go 'salvage' some more noble trash. Once I get a residency permit, I'll buy an apartment too!"

Early the next morning, a long line had formed outside the Lower Hive Tax Bureau, more than three times longer than usual.

Before, people had only come to pay taxes and atone for their sins. Today, many were asking about the conditions for buying a home.

Inside the Honeycomb Building, things had already taken on a whole new look.

When Ronan came home from work and opened the door, warmth washed over him.

His wife was crouched by the edge of the rooftop mini-farm, tending the plot of land every household could apply for to help supplement their income.

Their two young sons were leaning over the folding dining table, staring at a bowl of fresh meat soup and swallowing hard.

"You're home?" His wife looked up with a smile. "Mom and Dad just signed up for jobs at the farm. The governor said those jobs would go first to military families and households in need. The pay's good, and they even provide lunch."

Ronan walked over and ruffled his son's hair, then looked around the rooftop.

The shops in the building had opened. Daily necessities were neatly displayed, and cost half as much as they did on the Lower Hive black market.

Ronan clenched his fist, warmth filling his eyes.

For the first time in his life, he had tasted security. It felt like falling into heaven.

Meanwhile, in Fu Haoran's office, Yuri rubbed his chin and marveled.

"You've got something, kid! Back when I used to cook the books to dodge taxes, I thought making money out of thin air was a real skill."

"And here you are, collecting taxes and selling homes, setting up farms and shops to produce and sell your own goods. You can even cover the Tithe this way."

Yuri rubbed his chin, his eyes shining with a hint of envy. "This makes steadier money than cooking the books, and there's no risk. If I'd known real estate could work like this, I wouldn't have cooked the books. Wouldn't it have been better to get into real estate with you than spend every day worrying I'd get caught?"

Fu Haoran glanced at him and modestly replied, "It's nothing special. Just business as usual."

"Yeah, sure. Don't think I can't see what you're up to," Yuri said, pursing his lips.

"You just want to sell high-value products like farm goods to the little nobles and settlements in Mid-Hive and rake in a fortune."

"Then you'll use that money to buy Promethium and ore from other planets and make up the Tithe shortfall."

"It's a good plan, but there's too little time. You won't make up the difference."

Fu Haoran smiled without answering. He couldn't exactly tell Yuri that most of the shortfall would be made up by the 2K World.

With two worlds backing him, there was still hope of completing the Tithe within two years.

In the corner, Lucifer watched quietly, somewhat interested in humanity's "game."

Fu Haoran was just about to announce their next move—

Boom!

The ground shook.

Firelight lit up the night sky outside the window.

In the Honeycomb Building several kilometers away, Ronan crouched in the corner, shielding his wife and children.

Debris fell from the ceiling. His youngest son cried, "Dad, I'm scared!"

Ronan hugged him tight without a word.

The hand gripping his Lasgun was taut, veins bulging.

Wade's call came in at the same time, his voice urgent. "Sir! The military factory in the west of the city has been bombed!"

"The battery workshop is completely destroyed! Of the 178 people inside, 112 are dead and the rest are badly injured. The production line is a total loss!"

Fu Haoran rushed to the window.

Firelight reflected on his face, his eyes cold.

Yuri turned pale. "Who did this?!"

Fu Haoran didn't answer.

He stared at the flames and spoke slowly. "Wade, assess the damage and comfort the families."

The call ended.

A deathly silence fell over the command center.

Lucifer emerged from the shadows, her green eyes narrowing.

The Scarab flew from her sleeve, tracing a ghostly green path through the darkness.

"An ant's provocation," she said. "Shall I crush them? It would be a bother, but I can make an exception since you provided me with Spirit Stones."

Fu Haoran shook his head. "If we make a move now, we'll lose even more badly."

He brought up the System Panel. A line of red text showed on it: [Planetary Defense System Access: Locked]

"The Void Shields, Defense Towers, and Volcano Cannons are all in the hands of the Noble Council," Fu Haoran said.

"More troublesome still is the navy. A fleet of three Destroyers and five frigates is stationed in orbit."

"One orbital bombardment would reduce the Honeycomb Building to rubble."

Lucifer glanced at the panel. "So all you can do is take a beating?"

Fu Haoran said nothing.

The next day, news of the bombing at the military factory spread throughout the Hive City.

The refugees panicked, and the soldiers lost their nerve. The line outside the Tax Bureau shrank by more than half.

Just then, Valerius, a Planetary Defense Force Navy Commodore, called of his own accord.

"Lord Fu Haoran," he said with an arrogant, patronizing air. "I deeply regret the accident at the military factory."

Valerius's voice was arrogant and insincere.

"I suggest you reflect on your actions. Forcing people to pay taxes and winning over refugees will only inflame tensions and cause more accidents."

Fu Haoran replied coldly, "Commodore, get to the point. Stop talking in circles."

Valerius chuckled. "I propose that you immediately repeal your new tax regulations and hand over all military factories, Honeycomb Buildings, and related businesses to the Noble Council to compensate us for our losses."

Fu Haoran stared at him without responding.

Valerius wasn't offended. He dangled a carrot, then added a threat. "In return, I'll give you a ticket off-world and enough money to start over on another planet."

"This is my mercy. Leave before the Imperial tax official arrives, and you may live."

Fu Haoran spoke. "What about the people on this planet? If they can't pay the Tithe, they'll be taken as slaves."

Valerius shrugged, his tone flat. "They're just lowborn rabble. Why should anyone care?"

"The Imperial Ministry of Interior has plenty of ways to bring in refugees from other planets to fill the vacancies. It won't cost us a thing."

"What happens to them has nothing to do with the Empire's rule, and even less to do with us nobles."

He paused, then added a threat. "Remember, my fleet is on standby in orbit. If you refuse, the next explosion won't hit the military factory. It'll hit your Honeycomb Building. Let's see if that rabble will still follow you then."

"All right, think it over. Give me your answer in three days."

The call ended.

The command center fell silent for three seconds.

Lucifer spoke, a hint of amusement in her green eyes. "This is a declaration of war. What will you do? Fight or surrender?"

Fu Haoran looked at her. "Can your fleet move?"

"No," Lucifer answered crisply. "The Dynasty Fleet is still in hibernation. Waking it will take at least three months, and it will attract the Imperial Navy's attention. Are you sure?"

Fu Haoran rubbed his temples, his head aching.

In a direct confrontation, he would lose.

He was confident he could deal with the nobles' private forces on the ground, but the fleet in orbit was a sword hanging over his head. A direct fight would only leave both sides crippled, undoing all his efforts.

Just then, a blood-red notification suddenly appeared on the system interface:

[Ding! Heavens War has begun!]

[All Reincarnators must participate in the Heavens Battlefield: Modern Warfare Instance]

[Mission Objective: Survive the instance. Killing units from the opposing faction will earn points.]

[Tip: Points can be exchanged for a wide range of abilities, technology, and more.]

[Preparation Time: 24 hours]

Fu Haoran looked away from the interface and turned to Yuri. "I need to buy a Destroyer. Do you know anyone who can help?"

"Ha, are you planning to run off with the money? Clever! Buy a Destroyer, hide near the Eye of Terror, and nobody will be able to catch you. Once things cool down, you can come back as a pirate!"

Fu Haoran rolled his eyes. "Get lost. Who said I was going to be a pirate?"

"If you're not becoming a pirate, why buy a Destroyer? Are you planning to fight the nobles?" Yuri was even more confused.

"Don't be stupid. At most, we can afford one Destroyer, and that's only if anyone's willing to sell!"

Fu Haoran's eyes turned hard. "I've decided to make a high-stakes gamble."

"If I win, I might be able to bring the nobles down."

"If I lose, I'll drag them to hell with me."

"If they're not going to let us live, then no one gets to live."