Zheng's Winery, which claimed: "A wine meant for Heaven, seldom heard of on Earth."
Heaven on Earth, which pioneered a "membership tier system" with Basic, Premium, and VIP levels, had the city's wealthiest men scrambling to top up their accounts, unable to tear themselves away. Their slogan was: "Seek not immortals in the heavens, but bliss on Earth. Then turn around, and you'll find yourself in Heaven on Earth."
Zheng's Logistics, which brought together the best Wandering couriers from all over the land, ushering in an "age of errands" in the Imperial City. Their motto: "Safe and secure, delivered by the next day."
There were also smaller businesses, such as Zheng's Cloth Shop, Zheng's Bank, the Flower Boat fleet, and the Zheng-Zheng Punching Game.
If Zheng Xiu hadn't been thrown in jail today, a lowly man like Scarface Liu would never have crossed paths with a wealthy tycoon from the Imperial City like him in his entire life.
Scarface Liu marveled at how the Richest Person just operated on a different level. Not long after being imprisoned, Master Zheng had learned that Liu enjoyed a bit of gambling—rolling the Dice now and then—and had smilingly told him to go to a gambling den called the Treasure Basin and find an old man.
After mentioning Zheng Xiu's name, Scarface Liu, whose luck had always been abysmal, had an unprecedented winning streak, walking away with a full two hundred silver. That was why he was walking with such a swagger now.
'No wonder the scar over my right eye was itching and twitching this morning. It must have meant I was going to meet a benefactor!'
Right, how did Zheng Xiu end up in prison anyway?
Scarface Liu finally remembered to ask. Seeing that Zheng Xiu was about done with his chicken leg, he plopped down in front of A Cell, licked the rim of his wine bottle to get a taste, and brought up the matter.
Master Zheng answered casually, "They say it's for tax evasion."
"Tax evasion?" Scarface Liu froze. He took another swig of wine, unable to resist its aroma, and thought to himself, 'That's no big deal. What wealthy Merchant in the city doesn't evade taxes?' But as he mulled it over, something seemed off. He pressed, "How much did you evade?"
"Five thousand."
"Oh, a mere five thousand." Scarface Liu nonchalantly cleaned out his ear, then froze. The shock cut right through his drunken haze. "Wait, *only* five thousand?"
Zheng Xiu had already lain down, looking ready to sleep now that he was full. He added a single word, "Myriad."
Scarface Liu was so frightened he stumbled back a few steps, not daring to ask anything more.
Fifty million taels of silver!
According to the laws of Daqian, evading five thousand in taxes resulted in a ten-thousand fine. Evading ten thousand meant a fifty-thousand fine. Evading fifty thousand got you thirty strokes of the staff and imprisonment pending trial. Evading one hundred thousand meant execution after the autumn harvest. And for anything over one hundred thousand, your entire clan was to be executed.
Fifty million in tax evasion... Scarface Liu couldn't even imagine how high a stack of fifty million silver taels would be. But according to Daqian law, a crime of this magnitude meant Zheng Xiu would do more than just rot in jail for life. Even if they executed him, dug up his corpse, and beheaded it ten more times, it wouldn't be enough.
Suddenly, the two hundred silver in his pouch didn't seem so wonderful anymore.
Muttering "fifty million" over and over, Scarface Liu wandered away from the cell in a stupor.
The cell fell quiet once more.
From the pitch-black darkness of the cell opposite Zheng Xiu's, a cold sneer echoed.
He didn't know who his fellow prisoner was and paid the sound no mind.
Zheng Xiu was a native of Daqian, born and raised.
Before the age of seven, he was just an ordinary, oblivious child. But as his mind and body developed, Zheng Xiu gradually began to recall memories from a past life. He believed it to be a supernatural phenomenon known as "soul transmigration," and after turning seven, he quickly accepted this new reality.
In his past life, he'd been born on a certain azure planet, a casualty of an era of hyper-competition. He hadn't tested into a top-tier university, had muddled his way through four years at a second-rate college, and was about to graduate.
Though his academic record was mediocre, Zheng Xiu considered himself a man of excellent character: kind, eager to learn, and with a sworn enmity toward gambling and drugs.
One day, after being rejected for the 13th time, returning empty-handed from yet another job fair, and agonizing over whether to go to grad school or take the civil service exam—the fabled last resort—he was invited out by friends to play a board game. A sudden wave of dizziness washed over him, and he banged his head on one of the Dice.
And then,
that was it.
To be honest, Zheng Xiu had no interest in money.
He had always found this world strange. There were no Mystical Techniques, no Hermit Immortals. After becoming rich, he had mobilized his entire network, hoping to find some secret "Cultivation Technique," or at the very least something like "Body Tempering and Blood Exchange" or "Dao Fruit Life Change." Even if it wasn't true Cultivation, he would have settled for some generic fantasy powers. But to his great disappointment, nothing of the sort existed in this world.
'So this is just an unremarkable, parallel ancient world after all.'
After turning twelve, Zheng Xiu matured quickly. He took over the family business and focused on making money, reluctantly abandoning his dreams of cleaving rivers with a single slash of a sword or shattering mountains with a couple of punches, and became a simple, unassuming Merchant.
His final fate would be to live a life of drunken luxury, peacefully and tediously walking to its end.
Until this morning, when a squad of the Imperial Guard stormed the Zheng Family residence, declared with an air of divine justice that he had evaded fifty million in taxes, and threw him on Death Row.
And it was because of his imprisonment that Zheng Xiu suddenly opened the door to a new world.
Once he was sure Scarface Liu was far away and he could hear snoring from the prisoner in the opposite cell, Zheng Xiu quietly got up, sat down in a dark corner, and closed his eyes.
"GURGLE GURGLE..."
「A few minutes later.」
The strange whispering returned to Zheng Xiu's ears. The first time he'd heard it, a chill had run down his spine and goosebumps had broken out all over his skin. It sounded like a drowning man, struggling and gargling bubbles underwater.
This time, mentally prepared, Zheng Xiu remained calm.
When he opened his eyes again, he was in another space.
He was surrounded on all sides by a boundless, gray mist.
He stood within a solitary prison cell, floating in the mist.
"CRACK... CRACK... CRACK..."
Zheng Xiu stood in the center of the cage. The thin mist at his feet stirred without any wind, forming small whirlpools.
The strange cracking sound was as sharp and clear as bones being snapped. With each crack, skeletal, severed arms twisted and writhed up from the whirlpools, as if trying to grab something.
Before Scarface Liu had interrupted his thoughts, Zheng Xiu hadn't yet reached this horrifying scene. Now, he couldn't help but take a few steps back, bumping with a CLANG against the straight bars of the cage behind him.