Betting Big

The news of Ronan and his group moving into the Honeycomb Building exploded across the Lower Hive that very night.

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

"Seriously? Weren't they supposed to rough it in tents first?"

"Tents my ass! The Governor renovated a Honeycomb Building—dozens of households per floor, with a cafeteria, shops, and a defense post. Close the door and it's a fortress!"

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

"Change his mind my ass! The first batch in are all Planetary Defense Force men. Would the Governor screw his own people?"

"Then what are we waiting for? Let's go 'pick up' some noble trash, get a residence permit, and buy a house too!"

The next morning, a line stretched outside the Lower Hive Tax Bureau, three times longer than usual.

Unlike before, when people only came to pay fines and clear their records, today there were plenty asking about home-buying conditions.

Inside the Honeycomb Building, it was already a different world.

Ronan pushed open the door after work, and warmth washed over him.

His wife was tending the edge of the mini farm on the rooftop—a vegetable plot every household could apply for to supplement their income.

His two young sons were hunched over the folding dining table, drooling over a bowl of fresh meat soup.

"Back?" His wife looked up and smiled. "Mom and Dad just signed up for farm jobs. The Governor said these positions go to military families and hardship cases first. Good pay, and they throw in lunch."

Ronan walked over, ruffled his son's hair, and swept his gaze across the rooftop.

The shops in the building were already open, daily necessities neatly arranged, prices half of what the Lower Hive black market charged.

Ronan clenched his fist, warmth rising in his eyes.

For the first time in his life, he tasted stability—like falling into heaven.

Meanwhile, in Fu Haoran's office, Yuri stroked his chin, clicking his tongue in amazement.

"Kid, you've got moves! I used to cook the books for tax fraud, thought I was a genius at making something from nothing."

"But you—collecting taxes, selling houses, running farms and shops for self-sufficiency, even covering the Tithe with it."

Yuri rubbed his chin, eyes bright but tinged with envy. "More stable money than my fake accounts, and no risk. If I'd known real estate was this lucrative, I'd never have bothered with fraud. I'd have followed you into property development instead of living in fear of audits."

Fu Haoran glanced at him and said with great modesty, "Just small-time stuff. Normal performance."

"Tch, don't think I can't see your game." Yuri curled his lip.

"You're planning to sell high-value agricultural goods to the minor nobles and outposts in the Mid-Hive for a profit."

"Then use that money to buy Promethium and ore from other planets to plug the Tithe gap."

"Good idea, but the timeline's too short. You'll never make it."

Fu Haoran smiled but said nothing. He couldn't exactly tell Yuri that his real windfall came from the 2K World.

With two worlds backing him, finishing the Tithe in two years was still possible.

In the corner, Lucifer watched silently. She found this human "game" somewhat intriguing.

Fu Haoran was about to announce the next step—

Boom!

The ground shook.

Firelight lit up the night sky outside the window.

In the Honeycomb Building a few kilometers away, Ronan shielded his wife and children in a corner.

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

Ronan held him tight, saying nothing.

But the hand gripping his Lasgun was white-knuckled with bulging veins.

Wade's comms cut in, voice urgent: "Sir! The city-west military factory just blew!"

"The battery workshop is completely destroyed! 178 people inside—112 dead, the rest severely injured. The production line is totaled!"

Fu Haoran rushed to the window.

Firelight reflected on his face, his eyes cold.

Yuri's face went pale. "Who did this?!"

Fu Haoran didn't answer.

Staring at the blaze, he spoke slowly: "Wade, tally the losses and comfort the families."

The comms cut off.

Silence fell over the command center.

Lucifer stepped out of the shadows, her green eyes narrowing.

A Scarab flew from her sleeve, tracing a ghostly green arc through the darkness.

"An ant's provocation," she said. "Need me to crush them? Troublesome, but for the Soul Stones you provided, I can make an exception."

Fu Haoran shook his head. "If we strike now, we'll lose even worse."

He pulled up his system panel, a line of red text displayed: [Planetary Defense System Authority: Unlocked]

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

"Worse still is the Navy. A fleet of three destroyers and five frigates is parked in orbit."

"One round of orbital bombardment, and the Honeycomb Building will be rubble."

Lucifer glanced at the panel. "So you can only take the beating?"

Fu Haoran said nothing.

The next day, news of the military factory's bombing spread throughout the entire Hive City.

The refugees panicked, the soldiers lost their nerve, and the tax bureau's long queues shortened by half.

Just then, a communication came in from Valerius, Navy Commodore of the Planetary Defense Force.

"Lord Fu Haoran," his tone was arrogant, dripping with condescension, "I deeply regret the accident at the military factory."

Valerius's voice was both haughty and hypocritical.

"I suggest you reflect carefully. Forcing tax collection and rallying refugees will only escalate conflicts and trigger more accidents."

Fu Haoran said coldly, "Commodore, speak plainly. No more games."

Valerius chuckled lightly. "I propose you immediately repeal your new tax regulations and transfer all military factories, the Honeycomb Building, and all subsidiary industries to the Noble Council to compensate for our losses."

Fu Haoran stared at him, saying nothing.

Valerius wasn't bothered. He dangled a bait laced with threat: "In return, I'll give you a ship ticket and enough money for you to crawl off to another planet and start over."

"This is my mercy to you. Leave before the Imperial tax auditor arrives, and you may avoid death."

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

Valerius shrugged, his tone flat. "Just lowborn rabble. What's there to care about?"

"The Imperial Ministry of Interior has plenty of ways to transfer a batch of refugees from other planets to fill the gaps, without costing us a single coin."

"Their lives or deaths have nothing to do with Imperial rule, and even less with us nobles."

He paused, adding a threat: "Remember, my fleet is on standby in orbit. If you refuse, the next explosion won't be a military factory—it'll be your Honeycomb Building. Let's see if those rabble still follow you then."

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

The communication cut off.

Silence hung in the command center 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 bluntly. "The Dynasty Fleet is still in hibernation. Waking them will take at least three months, and it will draw the Imperial Navy's attention. Are you sure?"

Fu Haoran rubbed his brow, a headache pounding.

A head-on clash meant certain defeat.

He was confident he could handle the nobles' private soldiers on the ground, but the fleet in orbit was a sword hanging over his head. A direct confrontation would only leave both sides crippled, all his efforts wasted.

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

[Ding! Heavens War has begun!]

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

[Mission Objective: Survive the instance. Kill enemy faction units to earn points.]

[Hint: Points can be exchanged for powerful abilities, technology, etc.]

[Preparation Time: 24 hours]

Fu Haoran pulled his gaze away and looked at Yuri. "I need to buy a destroyer. Do you have any connections?"

"Ha, you're not planning to cut and run with the cash, are you? Brilliant! Buy a destroyer, hide out near the Eye of Terror—no one can catch you. Once the heat dies down, you can come out as a pirate!"

Fu Haoran rolled his eyes. "Get lost. Who said I'm becoming a pirate?"

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

"Don't be stupid. Our finances can barely scrape together enough for one destroyer, and that's if they're even willing to sell!"

Fu Haoran's gaze turned grim. "I've decided to gamble big."

"If I win, maybe I can overthrow the nobles."

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

"Since they won't give us a way out, no one gets to live."