Chapter Four: The Genetic Tax and the Tax Collector

On the day the Lord arrived to collect the genetic tax, the entire town of Scrapyard made the most elaborate preparations. The mayor hung up banners made of plastic sheeting; these brightly colored decorations could last for hundreds of years without degrading or fading, making them one of the few "cultural and recreational items" in this world. All the townspeople temporarily set aside their work and gathered in the plaza on the western side of the town.

All the heavy engineering machinery was lined up in a single row. In front of the machinery were the high-level workers with extensive cybernetic modifications. Further forward were the ordinary residents. Some of the high-level workers had already knelt on the ground; their steel bodies ensured they felt no discomfort while doing so. Not knowing when the "Lord" would arrive, they simply stayed kneeling.

The man stood in the middle of the crowd with Yuji.

He noticed that the people in the front row, including the mayor, were all holding infants. The level of modification on these infants was generally very low. The most heavily modified among them simply had nutrient delivery tubes connected to their throats. This allowed their parents to be freed for labor, earning the family a higher income.

The man always felt a sense of unease. He had learned two months ago that these infants were the "tax." To enrich the diversity of the "human gene bank," the lords collected infants as tax payments. If a settlement could not provide high-quality newborns, the lord could deem the settlement to have no value, and he would no longer provide it with protection.

This was stipulated by the so-called "Dyson Principle." The lord could not impose further punishment for "tax evasion"—no punishment of any kind was permitted.

However, if the lord did not protect the residents, then the "Knight-Errants"—the unruly, uncivilized thugs—could ravage the settlement at will.

The man still found it hard to accept the reality of using human beings as tax. But there was nothing he could change now. His prosthetic limbs were made of scrap, far too weak. Even without mentioning the heavy engineering machines, he could be crushed by even the most moderately modified laborers.

He could not bring trouble to the town.

"How much longer do we have to wait..." Yuji closed his eyes. The grayish-white ground reflected the sun, which was a trial for his unenhanced, natural eyes. His natural skin could not withstand such prolonged exposure either.

Just then, a stir went through the crowd.

"They're here!"

A thunderous sound approached from afar. Three ground-effect vehicles were rapidly closing in.

Ground-effect vehicles are transportation tools that use ground-effect to provide support for flight. Equipped with fixed wings, they can fly close to the ground (or water surface). The underside of the wings is very close to the ground, creating an air cushion that provides lift, keeping the vehicle fixed near the surface.

The three vehicles were in a triangular formation. The lead vehicle had a white base with golden patterns—very opulent and possessing a sense of classical beauty. The two trailing vehicles were painted pure black.

The three vehicles stopped at the edge of the plaza. The thrusters engaged, blowing air downward and kicking up dust several meters high.

All the giant machines honked in unison. The massive sound made the man feel his skull vibrating faintly.

The infants wailed. Their fragile eardrums could not withstand such stimulation. It was likely that after this day, these infants would be deaf. But no one cared. Artificial auditory organs were worthless in this era. Furthermore, when it came to sensory organs, natural ones could not compare to enhanced prosthetics. Even for the sake of work, one should try their best to replace natural sensory organs.

No one cared about such trivial matters.

Once the dust settled, the engineering machines slowly stopped honking.

Afterward, the hatches of the three ground-effect vehicles opened. Fifteen modified soldiers stepped out from each of the two black vehicles. Their modifications were quite thorough; their heads were entirely square cameras, and their limbs were long and slender, presenting a sense of industrial, streamlined beauty.

From the lead vehicle, however, stepped out someone...

Someone who looked very much like a natural human.

Calling him that was somewhat impolite. No one liked the look of a pure natural human. Natural evolution had retained too many irrational designs, devoid of any aesthetic appeal. But he really did look like a natural human. He wore a yellow-green military uniform with a high, standing collar, wore high-topped military boots, and was even leading a dog on a leash.

If he had a steel body beneath that uniform, his face could perhaps be described as a matter of "personal aesthetic."

The mayor had already moved forward when the Lord stepped out, but upon seeing the man's appearance, his bright, beaming smile gradually froze.

Half a second later, he replaced it with an even more fawning expression.

"Honored Lord, this is our first meeting, may I ask..."

"My name is Apennines." The officer smiled and took two steps forward, then frowned.

Behind him, a cyborg dressed as a secretary snapped, "How dare you be so rude? You dare to stand to welcome the arrival of Lord Apennines?"

The mayor scrambled to his knees. Behind him, the residents of Scrapyard town also hurriedly knelt.

The man hadn't reacted at first, but fortunately, Yuji pulled on him, preventing him from standing out too much.

—In this era, has everything regarding society and humanity regressed to a pre-modern state...

The man felt the distortion again. But following it was an emotion known as "fear."

Who am I? How long have I been asleep? What happened during the time I was asleep?

Why...

Seeing everyone kneeling on the ground, the officer Apennines finally revealed a gentle smile. "Don't worry, I won't blame you. This is all the fault of my predecessor, Lord Bernini. He was too lenient with you and did not shoulder the duties of a tax collector, which is why things are like this."

"Two months ago, a group of Knight-Errants broke into Bernini's mansion, killed him, and completely destroyed his biological brain. Subsequently, as the youngest son of the Lord, I took over this job. From now on, I will be your tax collector. I hope you can properly obey my affairs. I believe that during my tenure, we will get along very well."

The mayor set the infant aside and kowtowed, "We shall obey your every command, my Lord."

"Very good." Apennines nodded. "According to the data, your town is quite good. The birth rate has risen for ten consecutive years. This is truly excellent."

"It is all thanks to the Lord's blessing." The mayor dared not take the credit.

"No, in my opinion, this is mostly the fault of Lord Bernini, isn't it?" Apennines furrowed his brows. "According to the data, you should have handed over nineteen infants as tax this year, but... the mortality rate in your town is a bit high."

"This... this is, after all, an ancient battlefield from the Sublimation War. There are dangerous metals underground, so it is indeed easy to get sick..." the mayor said in a low voice.

"No, no, no, no." Apennines shook his head, walked up to the mayor, and nudged the wailing infant with his boot. "Is the quality of the population in your town actually any good?"

"It is truly excellent!" the mayor shouted. "We transport recycled materials to the city every day, which shows that our workers are strong lads! Every single one of them!"

He absolutely could not fail to pay the tax!

Everything these officers did could be seen by the Lord or even greater figures. They were not the ones providing direct protection; they were merely responsible for collecting taxes. If they collected the tax, then the town could not deny their value.

However, tax collectors could decide how many infants to take based on the quality of the population.

Although the human gene bank needed to ensure diversity, it still prioritized the intake of individuals with excellent genes.

"That is not for you to decide." Apennines crouched down, patted the mayor's face, then walked over to a soldier, took a loaded firearm, and fired toward the mayor.

Countless bullets fell, kicking up dust from the ground. The mayor screamed. After a long while, the dust slowly settled.

The mayor was unscathed, but a perfect circle with a radius of three meters had been drawn on the ground by the bullets.

"That circle is the arena." Apennines tugged on the leash in his hand. "Choose a representative to compete with my dog. As long as you can hold on for... let's say five minutes!"

He took out a thumb-sized projector and threw it on the ground. The projector automatically cast a 3D hologram into the air.

It was a countdown of "05:00:00."

"After one person is defeated, you can send another one up. No matter how many of you come up, as long as you hold out for five minutes, I will acknowledge the quality of your town's population and allow the tax to be collected—can you do it?"

The mayor stared blankly at the dog. The dog was wagging its tail, looking harmless. But the mayor knew that things that looked like creatures from the old era were mostly artificial creations. This dog was likely some kind of weapon. He really did not want to do this.

However, if they couldn't pay the tax...

Apennines shook his head and pulled a short baton from his waist. "Tsk, a high-energy stun baton. I'll lend you a weapon as an extra favor, how about that?"

The old mayor gritted his teeth and kowtowed, "Please, my Lord, allow me to consult with the townspeople."

"Go ahead." Apennines waved his hand with a smile.

While the mayor and a few other elders were deliberating, Apennines' secretary walked over, crouched down, and unclipped the dog's leash. During this process, the infrared signal transmitter in his palm flickered toward the dog's pupil-shaped camera: [Don't kill too many. The young master was just kicked out by the Lord to do some work and wants to blow off some steam. If all the people really die, the Lord won't benefit either. Just make sure they drag it out for five minutes so these guys can pay the tax.]

The dog snorted.

A few minutes later, a worker four meters tall walked out. Although his body was a large humanoid form designed for heavy lifting and rough processing, his head was the size of an ordinary person's, and his face was filled with fear. Despite the huge difference in size, the mayor had already explained the stakes. Not daring to be overconfident, he retracted his fists and aimed them at the dog as he entered the circle.

He did not go to pick up the weapon. His hands were simply too large to grip the stun baton.

"Start!" the secretary ordered, and the countdown began.

The worker's fists shot out violently under the force of hydraulic actuators. A single blow like this could hammer scrap steel into a shape easy for transport.

However, the dog jumped up leisurely, stretching its limbs. The steel fist slid beneath its belly. The dog ran effortlessly along the worker's half-meter-wide arm.

At the same time, the man blurted out: "Bionic Fist Technique?"