Taxes are only within machine gun range!

Chapter 2 I'm Already Honest, Please Let Me Go
The site administrator is also at fault!

No, it should be said that the website administrator is very likely the problem itself.

After the initial shock, Milton calmed down and thought about it carefully, and surprisingly, it actually made sense...

Could Maynard, an ordinary prosecutor, really have formed cliques, colluded with criminal gangs, and engaged in rampant corruption right under the station chief's nose without being discovered?
Is it really possible to have an honest and upright station chief at a checkpoint where corruption is rampant?
Milton finally realized his current predicament.

There is no one I can rely on, no one I can trust.

Even worse than that... since Station Master Varta is going to collude with Van Kang's gang, how could he not take the opportunity to get rid of Milton and add another bargaining chip to his negotiating table?

Thank goodness I didn't reveal my plans earlier.

Otherwise... I'm afraid that Maynard would receive the information just ten minutes after I said it.

Milton felt a chill.

Varta's tone remained amiable, seemingly genuinely concerned about "the future of young people," even willing to delay important meetings for it: "You're both working for the checkpoint, serving the people. It would be good to separate the two of you a bit, don't you think?"

His words were full of concern.

His expression and gaze were kind.

Who could imagine that such a senior might have been laughing maliciously just minutes before, discussing how to cut off his own head!

“Really? That’s great!” Milton forced himself to look happy. “To be honest, I also feel very sorry about what happened before.”

When you are still weak, you should play the fool.

It gives the other party the illusion that they have already behaved themselves and are begging for mercy.

Varta slowly tidied up the things on the table and took out a form: "Take a look, these are all the positions that are currently vacant."

“You can guard those detained smugglers. If you’re lucky, you might be able to get some information out of them. Back when I wasn’t the stationmaster, a colleague of mine made a fortune this way.”

"And here... you can help deal with these dangerous contraband items, and if you're smart enough, you can make a lot of money."

"..."

Milton quickly scanned the form... Most of the positions, though said to be far removed from Maynard, were still completely under the stationmaster's control upon closer inspection.

No!

None of these positions are suitable.

Just then, Milton noticed a position with a huge number of vacancies.

"Sir, what does a customs tracing officer do?"

Because of the Guatemalan civil war and its distance from the central government, this checkpoint was largely out of government control and became a privately contracted station similar to a "tax farming system." Most of the positions and ranks were unofficial, making it so chaotic that it was completely incomprehensible.

In other words, the station manager assigns positions based on their needs, rather than following official procedures.

Varta frowned. "That location... let me put it this way, we occasionally find people through various channels who passed through the checkpoint but didn't pay all their taxes."

"And the tax collectors are responsible for recovering this portion of the tax."

“Milton, I must remind you, this is a very boring and arduous job. Nobody knows where those people are hiding, and searching for them is a waste of time. Moreover, nobody knows what dangers you might encounter when going door-to-door to collect taxes; many smugglers are armed.”

"In fact, no one at the checkpoint does the job completely; they all work at the station and only go to do it once every few days."

Poor, busy, and dangerous, this arduous job was always dumped on those who were marginalized at the checkpoints.

But Milton saw a glimmer of hope in this position!
Being able to go out every few days means having the space to completely escape the gaze of those inside the station.

The fact that talented people who were ostracized were assigned here shows that the colleagues here are at least not the station chief's informants or Maynard's accomplices.

更何况……正常收缴关税获得的系统积分是金额价值的1倍，查抄三级不同等级的违禁品对应2、3、4倍。而追索回来的关税和违禁品，获得的积分则有5倍之多。

High risk, but also high reward!
What seemed like a poor and hectic job to them, Milton still saw hope in.

With the help of the system, tracking down these "smugglers" is much, much easier than under normal circumstances, because Milton can use points to exchange for clues, weapons, armor, basic attributes, etc.

With increased firepower, there will be no danger.

If so, then the firepower is not strong enough.

“That sounds like a very prestigious job.” Milton smiled and handed over the whole pack of cigarettes. “I’d like to give it a try.”

According to the checkpoint's rules, smuggled goods such as tobacco, alcohol, or similar Class II or III contraband can often become the inspectors' spoils.

Weapons and anesthetic drugs, on the other hand, need to be handed over to the checkpoint.

Varta, with a strong sense of justice, pushed the cigarette pack back, his expression both concerned and serious: "Is this some kind of prank you're up to? Don't joke about work, and definitely don't joke about your life."

That fake expression is even more disgusting than General Tso's Chicken with concentrated Fanta in Americanized Chinese food...

“No, sir.” Milton shook his head with a sense of justice, just like the stationmaster. “If we let these smugglers get away with it, news of how they make their fortunes through crime will quickly spread throughout the region.”

“Even if we seize most of the contraband, the voices of these few people can still inspire criminal thoughts in many others… I once read in a book that scholars call this ‘survivorship bias’.”

In this godforsaken place, even junior high school knowledge can leave most people completely bewildered.

Varta frowned, and it took him a while to understand the meaning of the word.

“I see.” His brow relaxed, and he smiled as he stood up and patted Milton on the shoulder. “Indeed, we cannot let the ‘survivors’ exist. Very good, very good, that’s the spirit of young people.”

"Okay, from now on you'll go out to investigate every two days, and on other days you'll still do your usual work at the station. I'll approve the search warrant for you. For such a dangerous mission, one pistol isn't enough. Go to the armory later and choose a new weapon, just say I gave you permission."

Milton calmly took back the cigarette pack that had been pushed towards him, straightened his back, and saluted: "Yes, sir!"

Varta looked away from the pack of cigarettes and smiled kindly, "Very good, go to work."

After leaving the house, Milton walked to the armory where old weapons were displayed not far away.

The next thing to do is simple—check customs duties, earn points, exchange for weapons, develop your power, and then kill the stationmaster!
Milton glanced at the weapons in the box, which were a hodgepodge of weapons from all over the world, sighed, and took out a weapon that looked familiar to him. Based on his predecessor's memories, he briefly checked the mechanical parts of the gun.

It's old and badly worn, but still usable.

Just then, Horn, who happened to be patrolling this area, came up from behind and nodded approvingly: "Haha! I knew you would choose the AK47, a real man! Only women use ARs."

Milton picked up three magazines, placed them on his waist, signed the register, and replied, "Screw you, this is a Type 56 assault rifle."

In this poor, run-down place, how could he possibly have the chance to use a real AK-47?

Getting a Type 56 rifle made by the University of Tokyo or Peshawar would be considered pretty good.

At the very least, it is robust and durable, and its practicality in harsh environments is superior to other American or European weapons.

Actually, the Swedish M45 submachine gun was quite good, but unfortunately, Milton couldn't find it among this pile of scrap metal.

Besides, what's wrong with the AR or the M16? They're both good guns, okay?

Just as Milton picked up his gun, an old Toyota Hilux SR5 pickup truck drove up from outside the checkpoint and stopped at Milton's checkpoint.

Horn turned and glanced at the car, took a puff of his cigarette, and said gloatingly, "This beat-up car is practically falling apart. I don't think there's any profit to be made from it."

However, Milton's gaze paused slightly, and he shook his head gently: "Not necessarily."

(End of this chapter)