2: Chapter 2 Rules? Let's blast them first.

Inside the Space Elevator.

Brandon ended the communication, and a mocking inquiry came from beside him: "Do you think if we show our hand to Fu Haoran now, he'll get desperate and bite us?"

"Tch, how could he bite? Unless it's a bombardment, but does he dare?" Brandon's tone was certain.

"Even a fool knows the importance of a Starport. If he's gone mad, does he have the ability to fix it?"

"In which war has anyone ever dared to touch a Starport?"

Mikhail, the noble staff officer, nodded elegantly in agreement: "Exactly. If he dared to touch the Starport, his own subordinates would hang him from the gallows before the Imperial Fleet even had to lift a finger."

"So, he can only sit on his throne and watch us leave with his eyes wide open."

"And then, wait to be crushed alive by three hundred years of tax bills."

Brandon smiled; everything was within his calculations. He raised his glass and said loudly:

"A toast to that idiot!"

"Cheers!"

The moment the glasses were about to clink, an explosion sounded without warning.

It wasn't just one.

It was a series of them!

Immediately followed by a violent shaking!

"Everyone, look outside! What's falling down?"

Someone pointed at the porthole and shouted. Everyone looked toward the porthole, seeing nothing but countless fragments cascading down.

An idea so absurd they couldn't believe it surfaced in everyone's minds:

"Is that man insane? He actually dared to open fire?!"

...

Fu Haoran jumped onto a valkyrie transport aircraft and lunged toward the spaceport.

Looking down from the air, the Space Elevator that was once like a steel spine was now shattered and billowing thick smoke.

Although it hadn't collapsed, it was useless now.

This was a classic case of hurting the enemy at a heavy cost to oneself.

But Fu Haoran didn't care.

"If I'm having a hard time, no one else is going to have it easy either!"

When Fu Haoran stepped off the transport, Brandon was being pinned firmly to the metal floor by two soldiers, looking over with the eyes of someone watching a madman.

Beside him were Vasily, Mikhail, and seven other leaders.

Their families were huddled in a corner, the cries of children and the sobs of women mingling together.

Seeing Fu Haoran jump off the transport, Brandon struggled to lift his head and cursed loudly: "You're crazy... Fu Haoran, you're fucking insane! How could you dare blow up the Starport!"

Fu Haoran knelt down, using his scepter to tilt up Brandon's chin, his tone cold and dismissive:

"Brandon, who gave you the illusion that I'm a good-tempered man?"

"Since you wanted to screw me over to death, I don't mind killing you first. At least we can keep each other company in hell."

Fu Haoran stood up and stopped looking at him.

"Is the inventory finished?"

Wade nodded: "The storage area is intact. We seized seven shuttles and three large cargo barges."

"Additionally, there are about 100,000 tons of high-purity Promethium fuel, 1.2 million units of various Laser Gun batteries, 500 tons of adamantite ingots, and..."

He paused, "A batch of unregistered masterwork jewelry and artworks, with a very high valuation."

Fu Haoran glanced at the total column on the data slate, and the numbers there made him feel a bit uneasy.

He looked at the deathly pale Brandon and said with a cold sneer:

"Your appetite is quite large. The things you were taking away are enough for us to fight another large-scale campaign."

Fu Haoran's gaze fell on the group of family members, without the slightest mercy: "Take them as slaves and sell them all."

Those people breathed a sigh of relief when they heard they might still live.

However, Fu Haoran's next sentence chilled them to the bone.

"Sell them to the Adeptus Mechanicus. I heard they've been short on materials for Servitors lately."

Fu Haoran turned to walk toward the transport, and a system prompt appeared immediately.

[Achievement Upgraded: Game Changer (Intermediate)]

[Description: You have proven through practical action that within the range of a Macro Cannon, all economic principles and the rules of vested interests are nonsense.]

[Reward: Universal Points +666, Charisma +6]

[Main Quest 'Imperial Duty · Tithe Collection' Progress Updated]

[Current Progress: 8%]

Fu Haoran leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.

He calculated the chips in his hand, but no matter how he calculated, it wasn't enough.

It wasn't even enough for a fraction of the Tithe.

"Let's check the territory's situation first," Fu Haoran comforted himself.

Then, his whole body went numb.

[Tax Arrears Correlation Analysis: Planet Scylla IV Economic Assessment]

[Status: Systemic Collapse]

[Financial Status: Severe Deficit]

[Achievement Obtained: Shambles]

[Universal Points +555]

[System Note: Congratulations, you are starting on Hell Difficulty. But please remember, the Empire never keeps idle people, especially those who owe taxes.]

Fu Haoran's vision went dark, and he asked with a heavy heart: "System, when is the Empire coming to collect the taxes?"

[The Departmento Administratum tax ship is expected to arrive in 60...]

"Oh, so there are still 60 months left."

Fu Haoran breathed a sigh of relief. After all, in the Warhammer World, things were often calculated in decades or centuries.

It was normal for a tax ship to arrive in a few months.

[...Arriving in 60 minutes]

Fu Haoran's brain stalled, and he rubbed his eyes.

[Countdown: 59:47]

"Fuck!"

Fu Haoran gritted his teeth and clicked on the quest details. When he saw the amount of tax owed, he almost exploded on the spot.

900 million tons of military-grade metal ingots, 1.2 billion units of standard Laser Gun batteries, 4 billion tons of Corpse Starch, 15 million eligible troops...

Crucially, based on current productivity estimates to recover to pre-war levels, it would require 30 years of continuous full-scale production!

Fu Haoran's vision went dark again.

It would take 30 years just to pay it off?

"In other words, even if I'm given a chance, I'll have to stay in this shithole for 30 years?!"

"Wait, there are alternative tax offset schemes. There's hope!"

Fu Haoran hurriedly clicked it open.

[Option 1: Blood Tax]: Hand over the planet's adult population to offset most of the materials.

Risk: Population -60%, Labor Force -90%, Riot Probability +70%, Planetary Defense -60%

[Option 2: Resource Compensation]: Hand over rare minerals (Adamantite, Promethium, etc.) / Technology.

Restriction: Requires a reputation of 90+ with Great Nobles and the Adeptus Mechanicus. Current Reputation: 0

[Option 3: Armament Handover]: Deliver Imperial standard weapons/vehicles.

Restriction: Planetary factorums are paralyzed, only a small amount of old equipment remains, accounting for less than 1% of the tax offset.

[Option 4: Strategic Material Compensation]: Offset with strategic logistical supplies such as pure water, compressed food, canned goods, etc., subject to approval by the Tax Collector.

Current Reserves: 0

"Blood Tax? Before the taxes are even paid, the lower classes would probably riot and hang me from a lamppost first."

"Resources? The way those nobles look at me is no different from how they look at a dead man."

"Armaments are even worse; the antiques in the warehouse aren't enough to fill a tooth gap."

Fu Haoran's gaze was fixed firmly on Option 4.

In the warhammer universe, the population was exploding, and food was so scarce it was hair-raising.

The lower classes of Hive Cities relied entirely on Corpse Starch to survive.

This stuff was originally a byproduct of refining Promethium. Industrial waste was thrown into a machine, and the squeezed-out slimy energy paste was bitter, fishy, and radioactive.

Otherwise, why wouldn't it be called Promethium starch?

As for pure natural food?

That was a luxury item that only Upper Nest nobles could occasionally taste.

"Wait, if I have a large amount of canned goods in my hands, can they be used to offset the tax?"

Fu Haoran remembered that during the 2K era, someone had used canned goods to trade for planes from the Soviet Union. There was no reason it wouldn't work in Warhammer!

"System, pull up the Imperial Strategic Material Tax Offset Conversion Table! Focus on the conversion ratio for natural food categories!"

The interface refreshed, and rows of data scrolled by.

When he saw the exaggerated ratio of 1 case of standard canned meat equaling 100 tons of Corpse Starch, Fu Haoran suddenly felt a sense of relief.

A loophole.

A massive loophole!

"If I have enough canned goods, maybe I can solve the Tithe problem, but where am I going to get so many? And I must get the approval of the Administratum." A crazy plan instantly formed in his mind.

Use cross-dimensional travel to get canned goods, and rely on the Empire's material conversion loophole to offset the tax!

Fu Haoran wanted to plan a bit more, but his peripheral vision caught the countdown—47 minutes and 58 seconds.

"Fuck it! System, I want to travel!"