Immortality Starts From Making Money.

Inside the Red Stone Town Chief's mansion, a fat middle-aged man was surrounded by many beautiful young women dressed in revealing clothes.

Some fed the fat man food while acting seductively, while others pressed their big breasts against his back.

The man grinned with contentment, enjoying his debauchery.

The Red Stone Town was located at the boundary of the Central Region. Some even did not regard it as part of the Central Region since it was close to the terrifying Desert of Fallen.

For many years, the Red Stone Town was undeveloped. Apart from the few inns used by the traveling merchants, they had no source of revenue to improve the town.

But everything changed when the town came under the control of a powerful ancient clan from the capital.

Instead of relying on natural resources, the Red Stone Town's pot of gold lay with the frequent visits of the merchants.

To enter the Central Region, every other region needed to pass through the Desert of Fallen and through the Red Stone Town.

On that, the ancient clan used their overwhelming might to demand every merchant to pay tax to them.

At first, the taxes were minuscule, and the merchants did not care about them. But with each passing year, the Town Chief began to develop many ways to generate income from the merchants.

Most especially from those unknown and weaker merchants.

To them, they were fat prey that needed to be slaughtered.

They would hang them, drain them slowly.

The concept of paying tax per cart was developed by the Town Chief. With the backing of the ancient clan, no one dared touch the Town Chief.

Although many frowned and complained about injustice and blatant exploitation,

there was nothing anyone could do.

The Red Stone Town's location gave them the privilege to throw their weight around anyhow.

Slowly, people accepted the inevitable and began to pay tax for their carriages. As for those from powerful merchants or clans, they were exempted from it.

When the town guards discovered the Thousand Wealth Chamber's long caravan, their eyes shone with greed.

Another fat sheep had arrived.

Quickly, they sent the news to the Town Chief, and without hesitating, the Chief sent his henchmen to demand his tax.

While the Chief was enjoying a pleasurable life with his women, a light knock came from the door.

A frown appeared on his face. During this period, he hated to be disturbed.

"Come in…" he commanded coldly.

Creak!

The sturdy wooden door was pushed open, and a tall man clad in metal armor walked in.

Before he could give the report, the Chief demanded coldly,

"What is it? You know I don't like to be disturbed?"

"My Lord, the fat sheep is not willing to pay. They request a presence from you," he responded.

Request a presence?

The Chief creased his brow and thought for a moment.

"Are you sure they are not from any powerful clans?" he asked to be certain.

"Yes, My Lord. I had my men check three times. They are not from any powerful clans."

"Good. Let's see what they have to say." He sneered and left the room.

Inside the main hall, Mo Jian sat calmly with the Old Withered Man standing straight at his back.

The hall was quiet, and Mo Jian was not served anything. This was treatment given to a commoner, but he did not care.

He had come to have a heart-to-heart discussion with the Town Chief. If they could come to a reasonable agreement, he would not mind paying the tax.

Creak!

The door to the main hall was pushed open, and the Town Chief sauntered inside with an air of pride and arrogance.

When he saw how young Mo Jian was, he creased his brow and shifted his gaze to the man behind him.

'A Peak Core Refining Realm. Tsk!' he sneered.

Although he was also a Peak Core Refining warrior, his standing was different.

Now that he saw them, he changed his mind from what he previously planned.

With both hands clasped at his back, he walked to the main seat. Taking his seat, he turned to Mo Jian and demanded sharply,

"My time is precious. Speak—what do you want from this seat?" His voice reeked of disgust.

When Mo Jian and the Old Withered Man heard this, they couldn't help but frown.

The Old Withered Man exchanged a subtle glance with Mo Jian, and he shook his head.

"Town Chief, thank you for giving us your precious—"

"Enough of this nonsense! Just say what you want!" the Town Chief interrupted with a sneer.

'You're at my mercy; what can you do?'

Mo Jian was furious, his rage boiling, but in order not to cause chaos when they had just arrived at the Central Region, he tried to control his emotion, forcing out a smile.

"Town Chief, the tax imposed on our caravan is too much. We have a lot of carts, and paying that much will not be good for our business," Mo Jian explained.

"Why don't you allow us to pay five hundred middle-grade spirit stones for each of our carts?"

When the Town Chief heard this, he sneered.

"I thought you had something important to discuss. The tax has been decided, and nothing will change it." He rose to his feet.

"Now that you mention it, with each day you spend in my town, the tax will increase by ten percent," he added, staring at Mo Jian.

"Don't think of ever escaping my town. Since you entered, you must pay your tax."

Mo Jian rose to his feet. His previous smile had vanished into thin air.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked.

"Hahahaha! Are you threatening me?" the Town Chief laughed. His laughter was full of disdain.

"Boy, you're not the first to say this, but they've all disappeared—buried in the Desert of Fallen."

"Oh? We will see about that." Mo Jian left the hall, and when he reached the exit, he stopped and looked at the Town Chief.

"Remember this... Your days are numbered."

With that, he left the hall.