Chapter 15: The Fearless Tax Collector
The three tower keepers promised to investigate the matter and mobilize their forces to find Amu’s location, asking Su Xiao to wait for one hour.
In less than half an hour, one of the tower keepers hurried over and whispered something to another keeper wearing a bulky white hood.
“Mr. White Night, your friend is in the Desolate Swamp. We are tracking his trail and will give you an answer before dawn tomorrow.”
The tower keepers were reliable. Despite the Desolate Swamp being over a hundred kilometers from the royal capital, they had confirmed Amu’s whereabouts in just half an hour.
Stepping out of the teleportation tower, the clamor of noise washed over him. The scene before him was a street packed with pedestrians, occasionally crossed by a carriage bearing different colored family crests on its sides.
Both sides of the street were lined with various stalls, the cries of vendors incessant, and the aroma of food wafted through the air. They had arrived at the royal capital of Tarin.
Qifu was most familiar with the royal capital. After a moment’s recollection, he headed toward the eastern side of the city. Over ten minutes later, he stopped before the gate of a three-story residential building. The area was quiet, with two rows of trees lining the cobblestone path.
“This is the clan leader’s property, Lord Liu. Do you have the key...”
Bang.
Before Qifu could finish, Su Xiao kicked open the two-meter-tall iron gate. The rusty door had long since seized up.
“Looks like keys aren’t needed anymore.”
Liu tightened the robe draped over her shoulders—a gift from the tower keepers. All she needed was a bulky hood to pass as one of them.
Using the old method to open the door, Su Xiao entered the first floor of the residence. A pungent, dusty smell wafted up. The place was spacious, with no other houses nearby—ideal for setting up warning devices or laying mines.
Having just arrived in the royal capital only to be ambushed by an unknown enemy, Su Xiao had a rough grasp of the situation. He now needed a well-informed local to understand the specifics of the capital.
“Qifu, do you have any friends in the capital? Preferably an official, not too high-ranking, who knows how to avoid trouble and is greedy enough.”
“I... might know one. His name is Dijia. A very greedy fellow.”
“Good. Take this and bring him here.”
Su Xiao placed a small piece of gold on the table.
“What’s the reason? Dijia is greedy, but he’s also cautious.”
“Tell him plainly: we want to bribe him. After the job is done, three pieces of gold.”
Su Xiao lit a cigarette, already prepared for a sustained campaign of assassinations. This power struggle was unlike any before—no need for complex schemes, just one assassination after another. That meant a hefty amount of World Source, a benefit worth the risk.
“Impossible. Dijia may be greedy, but he’s also cunning.”
“Just do it.”
Hearing this, Qifu shook his head and walked out of the room. In his view, no one would willingly get involved in such a matter.
Two hours later, in the now spotlessly clean room, a short, stout man whose noble attire seemed ready to burst at the seams sat opposite Su Xiao. The man was under forty, with an oily face and eyes squeezed into slits by his perpetual smile.
“Mr. White Night, I roughly understand your request. If this were a month ago, I’d be happy to help. But now... the situation has changed.”
The stout man, Dijia, spoke with a grin. He was a minor official of the kingdom—a humble tax statistics officer. In nicer terms, he handled tax affairs; in reality, he collected monthly taxes from various shops in the capital. It was a lucrative but powerless position.
Su Xiao had commissioned Dijia to help purchase a shop for 5,200 gold pounds—50% above market price.
Flipping through a shop approval document from the kingdom, Su Xiao casually asked, “The situation has changed? What’s happened in the capital?”
“His Majesty announced to the nation a month ago that in August of this year, during the Blooming Season, the crown will be passed down. That’s just a week away. At a time like this, who dares to step out of line?”
Dijia shook his head with a smile, pulling a small piece of gold from his pocket and placing it reluctantly on the table. It seemed like a refusal, but in reality, he wanted Su Xiao to offer more.
“Dijia.”
Su Xiao spoke with a smile. Hearing his name called directly, Dijia’s face showed displeasure—after all, he was a kingdom official.
“This has been a pointless meeting. No need to see me out.”
Just as Dijia was about to leave, Qifu grabbed his shoulder.
“Dijia, do you know who that is?”
Su Xiao’s gaze shifted to Liu.
“A clean-faced young man. So, what are you getting at?”
“He—she is Aide Li·Beifu. You should address her as Your Highness.”
“!”
The fat on Dijia’s face trembled. He turned to look at Qifu, who shrugged.
“From the moment you entered this room, 10 minutes and 24 seconds have passed. You’ve drunk three cups of black tea, eaten two plates of pastries, and stepped on the 50 gold pounds I dropped on the floor. You haven’t left because you haven’t figured out how to pick them up, have you?”
“Ha, haha, I’m here to collect taxes. Right, isn’t that so?”
Dijia’s smile revealed despair as he began to deceive himself.
“Guess how many people want her dead? As the first official to welcome the royal family’s return, you’re very loyal. How do you think the other heirs will treat you? Invite you for a chat and listen to your explanation? Or have you die in a ditch tonight? I’d guess the latter—it’s quicker.”
After hearing Su Xiao’s words, Dijia went limp, his face ashen. If not for Qifu holding him up, he would have slid from his chair under the table.
“You bastards!!”
With a despairing wail, Dijia shed ‘happy’ tears. He felt he was finished. Getting involved in the struggle for the throne meant certain death. Just yesterday, the Left Chancellor of the kingdom had died—a man wielding immense power, one of the two most influential figures in Tarin besides the king. As a mere tax officer, participating in such matters would leave him with no outcome other than immediate demise.
“Don’t be too moved. This is a chance to rise.”
Baha chimed in to comfort Dijia, who sat there like a rusted statue, occasionally letting out a laugh.
“Boss, this guy seems to be in shock. Should we find someone else?”
“No,” Su Xiao said, smiling at Dijia. “Dijia, you’re not someone content with mediocrity.”
“I am not. Mediocrity is fine.”
“Since you’re not content, seize the opportunity.”
“I’m not. I’m fine as I am. What are you even talking about? Are you really talking to me?”
“Mm, I can feel your determination. Pleasure doing business.”
Su Xiao extended his hand. Dijia was about to flare up when he suddenly recalled a crucial point: this guy had brought a royal to seize power. Could he really afford to offend someone like that?
“You have to guarantee my safety!”
Dijia shook Su Xiao’s hand firmly, putting on an expression that was uglier than crying.
“Since we’re all on the same side now, tell me—how many power contenders are left?”
“Sigh~”
Dijia let out a long sigh, sniffled, and then said:
“Originally, there were 86 heirs to the throne... now, only six remain.”
“Cough, cough—what did you say?”
Liu, who had been choking on her black tea, finally calmed down and stared at Dijia. She was beginning to understand how Dijia had felt earlier.
“Please don’t be surprised. His Majesty’s direct descendants number over 300. He has 725 queens. The actual royal blood born into the world totals 267. Those who survived past the age of five number 137. Those who reached adulthood are 118. A month ago, out of these 118 princes and princesses, only 86 made it to the capital. Now, there are six.”
After saying this, Dijia felt like crying. He had only heard rumors, yet they terrified him to the point of trembling. What kind of horrifying scene must exist at the very center of this power vortex?
This was no longer a normal succession struggle—it was a slaughterhouse for the royal family. No pretense or diplomacy, only hostility and assassination. Only the one who survived to the end would kneel before the old king, who would place the crown upon their head and proclaim them ruler.