Chapter 133: Human Arrogance

The drizzle persisted, cold raindrops striking the steel shell of the alchemical golem, producing crisp tapping sounds.

Dauntless stood silently before the tax officer Brent, its red eyes coldly scanning the surroundings, ready at any moment to respond to possible attacks.

The message stone of the lizardfolk leader lit up, emitting a low hiss before retreating to the side.

Not long after, steady footsteps echoed through the rain.

The werewolf sorcerer Frostfang walked forward slowly, her blue-gray fur soaked by the rain, clinging tightly to her slender curves.

Her eyes glowed with a faint green light in the dimness, claws lightly tapping on the bone staff at her waist, producing a subtle "click" sound.

“Humans.”

Frostfang said, “You shouldn’t be here.”

Brent forced himself to straighten his back, though a dull pain lingered in his chest.

He stared at Frostfang, a trace of contempt flashing in his eyes.

To him, sorcerers among the monster races were still just slightly smarter beasts.

“We represent Viscount Iron Thorn.” The tax officer said coldly, “The Serpentine Earth Rift belongs to the Viscount’s territory. If you trade and profit here, you must pay the taxes owed to the Viscount.”

Frostfang’s gaze swept over Dauntless before settling back on Brent.

“Taxes?”

She spoke with a hard tone: “There are no taxes in the wilderness, only trade.”

As she spoke, the werewolf sorcerer’s ears twitched slightly. If one looked closely, a small transmission stone could be seen in her ear.

At this moment, Frostfang was Garoth’s voice transmitter.

And Garoth had immediately taken a hard stance.

He was prepared to negotiate first, but he also knew that dealing with the other side, he must never let them sense any weakness; otherwise, harsher oppression would follow relentlessly.

Brent did not expect a werewolf to be so tough.

Because the transmission stone in Frostfang’s ear emitted a faint glow and showed no intention of concealment, Brent guessed that the werewolf sorcerer in front of him was merely a messenger, and the real person negotiating was someone else.

Brent himself was also a representative of Viscount Iron Thorn.

With the noble lord standing behind him, Brent showed no sign of fear and displayed a firm attitude, continuing, “This is the law of the Lothrian Federation! Any trade along the commercial route must pay fees to the lord!”

Frostfang spoke calmly, relaying the Dragon Lord’s will: “Your human laws do not apply to the wilderness.”

The tax officer’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 can try.”

Brent clenched his fist but did not lose control.

He knew now was not the time to tear the facade apart.

What the Viscount wanted was wealth, not destruction.

“Listen, beast.” The tax officer said sternly, “The Viscount can dispatch troops to wipe you out. This is the dignified choice—we didn’t bring an army but came to negotiate with you despite the rain, showing sincerity.”

He took out the tax order and displayed it in front of the monsters. The rain immediately blurred the Lothrian Federation’s wax seal.

“As the Serpentine Earth Rift is a branch of the Thousand Serpent Traces, you profiting here must pay taxes every month.”

He raised two fingers and said, “Five thousand gold coins per month! Or equivalent magical minerals.”

“Considering your illegal operations here for many years, the Viscount mercifully waived penalties and allows you to pay only one year’s back taxes, totaling sixty thousand gold coins or equivalent magical minerals.”

After a pause, he added, “If payment is made with magical minerals, our personnel will verify and assess their value.”

Without a doubt, this was an exorbitant demand.

With no further instructions received, the werewolf sorcerer fell silent, expressionless.

Opposite him, the tax officer smiled faintly and said, “If you cannot accept this condition, the generous Viscount gives you a second option.”

He said, “On the first day of every month, you submit one copper coin.”

“Then two on the second day, four on the third day... continuing like this for a month, it counts as paying a year’s taxes.”

The tax officer’s face showed the superiority of civilization as he said, “Two methods, the choice is yours.”

“Once you choose, we will provide a specific magical contract as a guarantee of cooperation.”

Hearing this, Frostfang’s eyes flickered.

Copper coins? That sounded easy to meet.

Compared to the initial demand of thousands of gold coins monthly, this seemed much simpler. As for the daily increasing number, Frostfang was not good at calculations, only sensing that the numbers were not large but also suspecting humans had no goodwill—there must be a trap.

Listening behind the scenes as the tax officer proposed two options,

Garoth subtly shook his head.

Were they treating him like a fool? Did they really think the wilderness monsters were all stupid creatures?

But since it was a negotiation, there was room to bargain.

The unrealistic initial demands were nothing more than a ploy to negotiate better terms.

This commercial route was originally opened by Viscount Iron Thorn’s family. If proper negotiation was possible, Garoth had a long-term vision and didn’t mind letting the other side gain some benefits.

Soon after, Frostfang received instructions and said, “One hundred gold coins per month is the lowest we can accept.”

The five thousand was directly cut to one hundred.

The tax officer’s eyes widened, ready to angrily scold these beasts for not understanding negotiation rules.

But considering his mission, he took a deep breath, suppressed his dissatisfaction, and continued negotiating with the werewolf.

The rain grew heavier, time passing bit by bit.

Both sides continued bargaining, testing each other’s true bottom lines.

After a while, the tax officer was parched and hoarse.

He insisted on three thousand gold coins per month without concession, and the full year’s back taxes must be paid at once. Frostfang proposed three hundred gold coins monthly afterward, without back taxes.

At this point, the tax officer refused to yield at all.

Because he represented Viscount Iron Thorn, and the Viscount had instructed him that the three thousand gold and one year’s back payment were the bottom line, especially the lump sum back payment, which must not be compromised.

The Viscount knew these terms were somewhat excessive.

But with the magic academy’s recruitment approaching, he needed quick cash, so he sacrificed long-term interests. Not only did he do this for the wild Serpentine Earth Rift, but he had already sold off many of his more legitimate assets.

The other side did not budge.

Frostfang also held firm.

After wasting another ten minutes or so,

The tax officer, anxious and irritated, shouted, “Beasts! Enough! Don’t be ungrateful! This is already your most dignified choice!”

Frostfang sneered, revealing sharp teeth.

“Humans! Ungrateful are you! We have shown enough sincerity, yet you are wearing down our patience.”

“The wilderness is not your territory; you have no privileges here.”

She stepped back. Around her, heavily armored, towering ogres stepped forward, surrounding them.

Dauntless silently raised its great sword inch by inch, the red glow in its eyes growing more piercing.

The atmosphere instantly became tense and hostile.

Standing in the rain, the tax officer gradually calmed as the cold raindrops chilled him.

He exhaled slowly and said, “It seems we cannot reach a consensus.”

“Since that is the case, let your lord come personally to negotiate.”

He said coldly, “I disdain negotiating with low-level monsters like you; I need an equal dialogue.”

How arrogant.

A mere tax officer thought himself equal in status to our Dragon Lord?

Frostfang was silent for a moment, then mocked, “Our lord has no interest in negotiating with a servant. If you truly have sincerity and want to resolve this peacefully, then bring someone with more weight.”

Brent wanted to say more, but Frostfang stepped back a few paces again.

Tall armored ogres stood like walls around them, giant wolf knights patrolled the perimeter, their fierce gazes focused on the tax officer and his party.

This first negotiation had broken down.

The tax officer snorted coldly and said, “We will come again; prepare your lord for our arrival.”

He no longer lingered and, escorted by Dauntless and several human warriors, retraced his steps along the Serpentine Earth Rift, moving away from the monsters.

Both sides gradually distanced themselves until out of sight.

“Damn monsters, they don’t listen.”

Brent cursed under his breath.

He disliked dealing with monsters.

These creatures lacked the respect due to bureaucracy and nobles, which made him uncomfortable.

“Sir, why don’t we launch a surprise attack and wipe out this monster group to show them our strength?”

A human soldier whispered.

Brent’s face darkened: “The Viscount’s order is to negotiate, not fight.”

“But these monsters clearly don’t take us seriously!”

“Hmph.” The tax officer sneered, “This negotiation is just a test. Let them gloat for a while; sooner or later, they will learn what ‘respect’ truly means.”

He looked into the depths of the rain, a trace of ruthlessness flashing in his eyes.

The group did not leave the wilderness but camped directly at the entrance of the Serpentine Earth Rift. Brent stood inside a makeshift tent, rainwater dripping from the canvas, pooling into small puddles on the ground.

He took several deep breaths, weighing his thoughts before taking out the message stone.

“Viscount, these monsters have a tough attitude and are ungrateful.”

“Their lord is willing to come out for further talks but insists on equal status.”

Brent contacted Viscount Iron Thorn, reporting the negotiation results.

Meanwhile, in Needleleaf Valley,

The red iron dragon rose, stretching his body. The hard dragon scales crushed the raindrops that fell on him, then he settled silently amid the wind and rain.

The iron dragon Sorog, the red dragon Samantha, and the faerie dragon Vira were also present.

“They are not sincere about negotiating.”

Sorog’s gaze was fierce, his pupils shrinking to dangerous slits as he said, “These humans are too greedy, too arrogant, and too full of themselves!”

Samantha growled softly, “A bunch of lowly reptiles dare to extort and rob us dragons!”