The drizzle continued, and cold raindrops struck the iron shell of the Alchemy Golem, making a crisp tapping sound.
The Fearless One stood silently in front of Tax Collector Brent, its red eyes coldly scanning the surroundings, ready to respond to any potential attack at any moment.
The Lizardfolk leader's Communication Stone lit up; it hissed a few words in a low voice and then stepped aside.
Before long, a steady sound of footsteps came from behind the curtain of rain.
The Werewolf Warlock Frostfang walked over slowly, her blue-gray fur soaked by the rain and clinging to her curvaceous body.
Her eyes glowed with a faint green light in the dimness, and her claws lightly tapped the bone staff at her waist, making a faint "click" sound.
"Humans."
Frostfang said, "You shouldn't have come here."
Brent forced himself to stand straight, even though his chest was still throbbing with a dull pain.
He stared at Frostfang, a hint of contempt flashing in his eyes.
In his view, a warlock from a monster race was still nothing more than a slightly smarter beast.
"We have come on behalf of Viscount Ironthorn," the Tax Collector said coldly. "The Scale-Earth Rift Road is a territory belonging to the Viscount. Since you are trading and profiting here, you must pay the taxes due to him."
Frostfang's gaze swept over The Fearless One before falling back on Brent.
"Taxes?"
She said in a firm tone, "There are no taxes in the wilderness, only trade."
As she spoke, the Werewolf Warlock's ears twitched slightly; if one looked closely, a small Sound-transmission Stone could be seen in her ear.
At this moment, Frostfang was Garros's mouthpiece.
And Garros had adopted a firm stance right from the start.
He intended to negotiate first, but he also knew that when dealing with the other side, he must never let them sense weakness, or else even more intense oppression would follow in an endless stream.
Brent hadn't expected a werewolf to be so firm.
Since the Sound-transmission Stone in Frostfang's ear emitted a faint light and she made no attempt to hide it, Brent could guess that the Werewolf Warlock before him was merely a mouthpiece, and the person truly speaking to him was someone else.
And Brent himself was actually the spokesperson for Viscount Ironthorn.
With a noble lord backing him, Brent did not show any fear and also adopted a firm attitude, continuing, "This is the law of the Lothern Federation! Any trade conducted on the merchant roads must pay fees to the lord!"
Frostfang spoke calmly, relaying the Dragon Lord's will: "Your human laws do not reach the wilderness."
The Tax Collector's face darkened.
"You are challenging the Viscount's authority," he lowered his voice and threatened. "If you refuse to cooperate, the consequences will be severe."
"Is that so?" Frostfang tilted her head slightly. "Then you are welcome to try."
Brent clenched his fists, but ultimately did not lash out.
He knew that now was not the time to burn bridges.
The Viscount wanted was wealth, not destruction.
"Listen, beast," the Tax Collector said deeply. "The Viscount could send his garrison to wipe you out. We are giving you a dignified choice now; we didn't bring an army, but instead negotiated with you in the rain, which already shows our sincerity."
He took out a Taxation Order and displayed it before the monsters; the rain immediately began to blur the wax seal of the Lothern Federation.
"As the Scale-Earth Rift Road is a branch of the Thousand Snake Scars, since you are profiting here, you must pay taxes every month."
He held up two fingers and said, "Five thousand gold coins per month! Or the equivalent in Magic Minerals."
"Considering you have been operating illegally here for many years, the Viscount has graciously overlooked the small profits and waived the late fees, allowing you to only pay back one year's worth of taxes, totaling sixty thousand gold coins or equivalent Magic Minerals."
After a pause, he added, "If you pay with Magic Minerals, the specific value will be verified and judged by our people."
Without a doubt, this was an extortionate demand.
Having received no further instructions, the Werewolf Warlock fell silent, her face expressionless.
Opposite her, the Tax Collector wore a half-smile and said, "If you cannot accept this condition, the generous Viscount has given you a second option."
He said, "On the first day of each month, you only need to hand over one copper coin."
"Then two coins on the second day, four on the third, and so on for a full month. This can be counted directly as a year's worth of taxes."
A sense of superiority belonging to a civilized person appeared on the Tax Collector's face as he said, "Two methods; the choice is yours."
"Once you have made your choice, we will provide a specific Magic Contract as a guarantee for the cooperation between both parties."
Hearing this, Frostfang's eyes flickered.
Copper coins? This sounded like a very easy condition to satisfy.
Compared to the previous monthly demand of thousands of gold coins, it seemed much simpler. As for the daily increasing amount, Frostfang was not good at arithmetic; she only felt the number wasn't large, but also believed humans certainly had no good intentions and that there was a trap here.
Listening to the two methods proposed by the Tax Collector from behind the scenes,
Garros shook his head imperceptibly.
Did they take him for a fool? Did they really think wilderness monsters were all stupid and mindless creatures?
However, since it was a negotiation, there was room for discussion.
The unrealistic demands made at the beginning were nothing more than a tactic for better bargaining.
This merchant road was originally opened by Viscount Ironthorn's Family; if they could negotiate properly, Garros, with his long-term vision, wouldn't mind letting the other party gain some benefits.
Immediately, Frostfang received instructions and said, "One hundred gold coins per month. This is the bottom line we can accept."
Five thousand cut straight down to one hundred.
The Tax Collector's eyes widened, wanting to berate these beasts for not knowing the rules of negotiation.
But considering his mission, he took a deep breath, suppressed his dissatisfaction, and continued to negotiate with the werewolf.
The rain grew heavier, and time slipped away bit by bit.
Both sides continued their tug-of-war negotiation, testing each other's true bottom lines.
After some time, the Tax Collector's mouth was dry.
He stubbornly held onto three thousand gold coins a month without budging and insisted that one year's taxes must be paid back in a lump sum. Frostfang, on the other hand, proposed three hundred gold coins a month from now on and no back taxes.
Once they reached this point,
the Tax Collector refused to budge at all.
Because he represented Viscount Ironthorn, and the Viscount had told him that these three thousand in taxes and the one-year back payment were the bottom line—especially the lump-sum back payment, which he absolutely could not compromise on.
Viscount Ironthorn knew that such conditions were already a bit like draining the pond to catch the fish.
But with the Magic Academy's recruitment approaching, what he needed now was quick cash. Therefore, he did not hesitate to sacrifice longer-term interests; let alone this wilderness area of the Scale-Earth Rift Road, he had even directly sold off many of his more legitimate properties.
The other side wouldn't budge.
Frostfang also remained stubbornly unchanged.
After another ten minutes were wasted,
the Tax Collector, full of impatience, shouted, "Beasts! Enough! Don't be ungrateful! This is already your most dignified choice!"
Frostfang sneered, revealing her sharp teeth.
"Humans! You are the ones being ungrateful! We have already shown enough sincerity, and you are wearing out our patience."
"The wilderness is not your territory; you have no privileges here."
She took a step back, and the fully armed, tall, and sturdy Ogres around her stepped forward, surrounding them.
The Fearless One silently raised its greatsword inch by inch, the red light in its eyes becoming increasingly piercing.
The atmosphere instantly became tense and hostile.
Standing in the rain, the cold water gradually calmed the Tax Collector down.
He slowly exhaled and said, "It seems we cannot reach a unified opinion."
"Since that's the case, let your lord come and talk in person."
He said coldly, "I disdain to negotiate with low-level monsters like you. I need a dialogue between equals."
Truly self-righteous.
A Tax Collector thinks he is equal in status to our Dragon Lord?
Frostfang was silent for a second and then said mockingly, "Our lord has no interest in discussing things with a servant. If you are truly sincere and want to resolve this matter peacefully, then send someone with more weight."
Brent wanted to say more, but Frostfang stepped back a few more paces.
Tall Ogres in heavy armor stood like a wall, and Giant Wolf Knights circled around, their fierce gazes focused on the Tax Collector's group.
This first negotiation had broken down.
The Tax Collector snorted coldly and said, "We will be back. Have your lord prepared to receive us."
He didn't linger any further, and under the escort of The Fearless One and several Human Warriors, he stepped back onto the Scale-Earth Rift Road, moving away from the monsters.
Both sides moved further apart until they were no longer visible.
"Damned monsters, they don't listen to reason."
Brent cursed under his breath.
He didn't like dealing with monsters.
These fellows lacked the proper awe for bureaucrats and respect for nobles, which displeased him.
"My lord, why don't we turn back and wipe out these monsters to show them what we're made of?"
A Human Warrior said in a low voice.
Brent said with a dark expression, "The Viscount's order was to negotiate, not to start a war."
"But these monsters clearly don't respect us!"
"Hmph." The Tax Collector sneered. "This negotiation was just a probe. Let them be smug for a while; sooner or later, they will learn what true 'respect' means."
He looked deep into the curtain of rain, a flash of ruthlessness in his eyes.
The group did not leave the wilderness but instead set up camp right at the entrance of the Scale-Earth Rift Road. Brent stood in a temporary tent, rain dripping off the canvas and pooling on the ground.
He took a few deep breaths, deliberated in his mind, and then took out his Communication Stone.
"Viscount, these monsters have a very firm attitude and are being ungrateful."
"Their lord is willing to come forward to talk again, but only on the condition of equal status."
Brent contacted Viscount Ironthorn to report the results of the negotiation.
Meanwhile, in Coniferous Valley.
The Red-Iron Dragon stood up and stretched his body; his hard dragon scales crushed the raindrops falling on him, and then he directly coiled up in the wind and rain, remaining silent.
Iron Dragon Sorog, Red Dragon Samantha, and Fairy Dragon Vera were also here.
"They are not negotiating in good faith."
Sorog's gaze was fierce, his pupils contracting into dangerous thin lines as he said, "These humans are too greedy, too self-righteous, and too arrogant!"
Samantha also growled, "A group of lowly reptiles, daring to blackmail and rob us Dragonkin!"