Successors of all mankind

Looking at the magnificent villa.

The clerk swallowed hard.

By the glory of humanity, I hope I can still stand upright...

Chapter 22 You're Anxious, I'm Anxious Too

Wen Shu walked into the villa with trepidation.

As the tax collector was finishing up, Truman was comfortably sipping a glass of red wine, leaning back on the sofa, enjoying a piece of classical music whose name he couldn't recall.

But the clerk knew that the tax collector was in a very good mood.

Because he noticed that Lord Truman was drinking the Ruhr wine that he had always treasured on the top shelf of his office, a bottle that was said to be 130 years old.

If the document is correct, it seems to be a family heirloom of the Barkley family.

This would normally be a good thing, because if the tax collector is in a good mood, he might be treated leniently.

The problem is, the clerk suspects, that the tax official's happiness might stem from a feeling that he has already accomplished his task...

Although he didn't know why the tax collector, a noble lord, would care so much about a group of lowly commoners who couldn't even enter the outer city.

But that is indeed the matter that the tax official is most concerned about recently.

'By the glory of humanity, I hope I can at least have my body intact...'

He no longer expected to be able to walk out upright.

After swallowing hard, I realized what was going on.

The clerk cautiously stepped forward, but before he could speak, he heard Truman Taxe say with immense joy at the end of the deal:

"You're back so early, looks like you've already taken care of it?"

"Very good, very good!"

Amidst the praise for the successful tax collection, he also took a delighted sip of the red wine in his hand.

The jewel-like color, the rich fragrance, the news of success—everything made him extremely happy.

But what he heard was:

"S-Sir"

Thinking the tax collector was asking about the benefits, the officer raised an eyebrow slightly and said:

"I'll definitely do what I promised you. It's just a wife, what's the big deal? I could have plenty of people begging to sleep with me! Now tell me, how did it go?"

"My lord, it didn't work!"

The moment the tax was about to be paid, he froze, and the hand that was swirling the wine glass stopped.

He turned around in surprise to look at the document.

Thanks to his noble lineage and pure genes, even though he is extremely overweight, his handsome features are still evident in his bone structure.

"what?"

The clerk said, weeping:

"It didn't work, sir. Something went wrong!"

At this point, the tax collection process still didn't elicit much of a response; people were simply surprised that something so simple had gone wrong.

He looked at this incompetent thing with disdain and said:

"What's the panic? What kind of accident could it be? Tell me! And let me tell you, out of respect for your past, I'll keep you around to do things for me, but your wife, hmph, dream on!"

Previously, this would have been undoubtedly great news, but now, the more lenient the tax collection process is, the more desperate the paperwork becomes.

Because only he knew the true magnitude of the accident.

"My lord, yes, I don't know why there was a sage there who even fixed the malfunctioning device!"

"Some other nobles have intervened?!"

He narrowed his eyes the moment the tax collection was completed.

But he remained calm because he thought it might just be an accident.

The clerk stammered:

"He's...he's from a very noble family! This person's genetic purity is at least over thirty percent!"

Upon hearing that it exceeded 30%, the tax rate immediately jumped.

With a genetic purity exceeding 30%, one would be granted a title no matter what. Even an honorary baron who couldn't even get a sinecure was better than a so-called nobleman who didn't even have a noble title!

After all, when you look at it this way, his tax collection official was nothing more than someone who mingled with the lowly.

Aside from someone like him who barely crossed the line, who would be willing to do this?

"What? A noble person with 30% genetic purity? No, how could he be there?"

The cold sweat started to run down my back as the tax season drew to a close.

Things seemed to be going beyond his expectations.

He also considered many possibilities, such as the fact that he was essentially just a gofer in this matter.

So, could it be that I've accidentally gotten caught up in a power struggle between these big shots?

The clerk shook his head repeatedly and said:

"Sir, I...I don't know either!"

I was so scared I was paralyzed. How would I know all this?

I almost slapped him when he was collecting taxes.

"You don't even know that? Then who is this distinguished person? What is their family background?"

Knowing one's family lineage allows for a preliminary assessment of whether the encounter was accidental or a genuine entanglement in upper-class power struggles.

But how can a dilapidated village of third-class citizens be linked to higher levels?

"My lord, I asked, but the nobleman didn't say, he just told me to guess!"

This time, the tax collector couldn't hold back any longer and slapped him across the face.

"You don't know this, you don't know that, what use are you to me?"

He slapped the tax collector, who had been in charge of collecting taxes, to the ground, where he saw wine spilled and broken glasses scattered about.

I felt increasingly angry that my nose was crooked.

He kicked over the sofa, strode over, and kicked the clerk, who was curled up on the ground, several times. The force wasn't great, but each kick landed precisely on the clerk's ribs.

The clerk naturally dared not retaliate, but merely shouted:

"My lord, please calm down. That distinguished person asked me to summon you to see him!"

"What?! You want me to come over?"

The cold sweat from the tax collection deadline soaked his back.

What does this mean?!

After swallowing hard a few times,

The tax collector pointed to the incessantly lamenting documents and said:

"Tell me everything you know!"

After carefully and meticulously inquiring about every single detail, I finally got to the bottom of it.

As the tax collection concluded, he suddenly shouted outside:

"Drag this bastard who dared to lie to me even now down this path away and behead him! Feed his body to the dogs!"

The guards at the door rushed in immediately, grabbed the clerk, and were about to drag him away to be beheaded.

This startled the clerk, who shouted in a panic:

"My lord, I'm innocent! I really didn't lie to you! How could I dare to lie to you? Please spare my life, my lord!"

The tax collection efforts remained unmoved.

He simply stared coldly at the other person.

They waited until the other person was dragged out and heard the sound of something hitting the ground.

The cries of injustice abruptly ceased.

Seeing this, the tax collector nodded and said:

"It seems they weren't lying to me; it's all true."

This was just a verification, but he certainly didn't want a dog that had ruined his life to live.

But what about settlement number 386?

After a moment of hesitation, the tax collector pulled out paper and pen, intending to write a letter and send it out.

But before he could put pen to paper, he stopped.

Just like how Wen Shu couldn't understand why a nobleman would care about a third-class village.

He didn't really understand why the higher-ups cared about this.

His clerk is his lackey, someone he can kick to the ground and replace at any time, just like he did just now! But isn't he the same in the end?

He wanted to write a letter to report the matter, but the pen hovered over the paper and just wouldn't move.

If we report this, what will the higher-ups think of him? A useless piece of trash who can't even handle such a small matter?

Or... is this thing simply not supposed to be reported?

He wasn't sure.

But he knew that before figuring out the true identity of that "benefactor," the best option was to keep quiet and go see for himself.

Chapter 23 Back to Basics

After seeing off the clerk and having his first decent meal, Yu Le finally had a moment to catch his breath.

A person who is cold, hungry, thirsty, and tired cannot get anything done. To be honest, he himself is surprised that he has been able to endure that state until now.

He sat on a broken chair, looking at the hazy light outside the window, forcing himself to think clearly about the path ahead.

Leave?

He had actually denied this last night, but now, thanks to the power and influence of the document, he has come to realize just how malicious this world truly is.

There's no need to even think about it.

Because it was a desert outside, with no water or food, he wouldn't be able to survive for more than a few days.

Even if he survives by chance, he will still have to deal with people sooner or later. And if he were to switch to another group of people, could he still fool them as easily as he did at the gate?

This place is so ruthless in its exploitation of people; if a different group of people came, they might tear him apart on their very first meeting.

We can't leave!

So, should we continue to pretend?

This is what he is doing.

Even though things weren't going well for him, he still managed to pave a few steps forward for himself:

By sending a message to Truman Buckley through a scribe, he signaled "I can be used to curry favor" without revealing his own family background, leaving the other party to guess and then frighten himself.

But this is just a delaying tactic.

He couldn't stay at Settlement 386 forever. After a while, even the gatekeepers themselves would become suspicious.

Is it reasonable for a nobleman to stay in a dilapidated village inhabited by third-class people?

And even if they dare not speak at the gate, would Nor keep watching their slaves even after they know?

So he would have to go to Numenor sooner or later.

But what if he goes to the slave city of Nor? How long can a fake nobleman who knows nothing, mixed in with a group of real nobles, hold out?