At the dining table.
Ian Song, Sylvia Cai, Cindy Li, and Lily were having a meal together. As for Uncle Gen, Ian had invited him to join them many times, but his sense of servitude was far too strong. No matter what Ian said, Uncle Gen would never sit at the table with them.
Lily, on the other hand, was young and didn’t have strong notions about master and servant. Plus, Sylvia always treated her like a younger sister, so she was happy to eat with the young master and the ladies.
As for Cindy Li, although she was temporarily acting as Ian’s maid, she was the dignified Saintess of the Black Heaven Cult—there was no way she’d see herself as lowly.
The meal soon ended.
Cindy Li was about to help Lily clear the dishes, but Ian called her over and said, "You can go now."
"Why?" Cindy asked instinctively.
"What, you’ve gotten addicted to being a maid?" Ian teased, amused.
"Is my master here?" Cindy suddenly realized, curiosity rising—did Ian fight her master, and if so, who won?
"Yes, he’s here." Ian nodded.
"Thank you, Lord Song."
Cindy Li bowed to Ian as she spoke.
"Go on."
Ian waved her away.
Cindy then went to say goodbye to Sylvia and Lily before leaving the inn.
Not far from the inn, Cindy saw her master, Gavin Stone, the Black Heaven Cult Leader.
"You’ve had a tough time, child."
Gavin Stone gently patted Cindy’s head.
"Master, that ‘dog official’ didn’t bully me at all!" Cindy said.
"Good. Come on, let’s return to the cult." Gavin nodded, but his eyes were full of concern.
"Mm."
Then, the two of them turned into shadows and vanished into the night.
Ian also withdrew his divine sense.
Night fell.
After a round of exercise, Ian held the completely limp Sylvia Cai in his arms. Her face flashed through his mind—along with Yoyo Chen’s. That silly girl was probably still waiting for him at home.
And there was his other senior sister back in Panyang Prefecture, who was probably waiting for him too.
Looks like he’d need to find a time to bring them here.
With his Daoist Golden Core speed, he could make a round trip in just one day.
The next day.
Ian led a group of officials and constables to inspect the city’s shops and reclassify their grades.
As it turned out, there were even more shops in Frostmarch City than he’d expected.
There were over 280 lower-grade shops—fifty or sixty more than five years ago.
There were more than 130 mid-grade shops.
And over 150 top-grade shops.
After the grades were reassessed, Ian ordered the officials to collect taxes.
The lower-grade shops were easier to tax—after all, not everyone dared to defy the government.
But collecting taxes from the mid-grade shops was much trickier.
By the end of the day, out of more than 130 mid-grade shops, only about thirty paid taxes. The rest all hung up the garrison’s banner, claiming protection from General Hugh Harris.
General Hugh Harris commanded five thousand troops, so none of the officials dared offend him. One by one, they all returned empty-handed.
As for the top-grade shops, 109 of them belonged to Hugh Harris, and the rest were under his protection too. The officials didn’t even dare set foot inside, let alone collect taxes.
Ian didn’t blame the officials. Fearing the strong and bullying the weak is human nature, and it was understandable that they didn’t dare cross Hugh Harris.
So, on the following day—
Ian personally led the officials and constables to collect taxes.
“Sir, our shop is under General Hugh Harris’s protection, so we can’t pay taxes to you!”
The middle-aged manager spoke arrogantly—he was the owner of a mid-grade inn.
“How dare you speak to the Prefect like that!”
Leonard Lewis, one of the officials, barked sternly.
Ian waved his hand, looked at the manager, and said slowly, “According to imperial law, anyone who evades taxes can be thrown in jail. I could lock you up for six months, and when you get out—do you really think this inn will still be yours?”
“You wouldn’t dare! I’ve already paid silver to General Harris!”
The manager shouted, trying to sound tough but clearly nervous.
Ian gave a helpless smile. “Foolish. I’m the official, Hugh Harris is the general. Unless he has direct orders, he can’t bring troops into the city. If he does, it’s considered rebellion. Do you really think he’d risk that for you?”
“Forgive me, sir! I’ll pay the taxes!” The manager dropped to his knees.
“Since it’s your first offense, I won’t punish you. Just pay up.”
For most of the day, Ian visited every mid-grade shop himself. Over ninety percent of the owners paid up as soon as they saw the Prefect in person. A few still refused—so Ian had the constables throw them straight into jail.
Finally—
He arrived at a top-grade shop.
This shop belonged to Hugh Harris, so the manager was openly defiant, not caring about Ian at all.
Ian didn’t bother arguing.
He simply ordered his men to arrest the manager and seal the shop.
Outside, a crowd had gathered to watch—including plenty of other top-grade shop owners.
Since Ian dared to seal the first shop, he’d seal the second too. So, the rest of the shops cooperated and obediently paid their taxes.
Inside the military camp.
Smash!
Hugh Harris flung his wine cup to the ground, cursing: "Ian Song, you’ve gone too far!"
He’d just received news that Ian had forcibly taxed his shops. How dare a mere Prefect challenge him? The more Hugh thought about it, the angrier he got. He decided to take his troops to Frostmarch and intimidate Ian Song, so he wouldn’t dare oppose him again.
Men, gather five hundred soldiers—we’re going to Frostmarch City!
A quarter of an hour later.
With a thunderous rumble, five hundred cavalry, led by Hugh Harris, charged straight for Frostmarch City.
Thanks to the speed of the cavalry, they reached the city walls in less than half an hour.
Listen up, people on the wall! I am General Hugh Harris—open the city gates!
General Hugh, why have you brought so many troops? Are you planning to attack Frostmarch, or do you mean to rebel and crown yourself king?
Ian’s voice rang out, and he appeared atop the city wall.
"Ian Song, it’s you!"
Hearing Ian’s words, Hugh’s face changed sharply, but then his gaze turned fierce.
Ian said sternly, "Hugh Harris, withdraw your men at once. I can pretend nothing happened. Otherwise, don’t blame me for reporting you to Lord Su!"
"Ian Song, you’ve gone too far!" Hugh roared in fury, grabbed his bow from his warhorse, and shot an arrow at Ian atop the wall.
Whoosh!
A steel arrow shot toward Ian like a bolt of black lightning.
But Ian showed no sign of panic, didn’t even dodge. As the arrow neared, he flicked his hand, and the arrow spun around, flying back several times faster.
Thud!
The arrow struck Hugh’s abdomen, pierced his dantian, and exited through his back. He screamed, fell from his horse, and fainted.