Chapter 104 – Tax Rules and Comparisons

  Yu Han’s Deep Sleep had activated after he had been knocked out by Gong Muhua. He was able to enter his dreamscape with no issues.

  But this time, his sleep was normal. No Deep Sleep.

  How the hell am I supposed to test this?

  It was a worrying development. He had no plans to intentionally deprive himself of sleep. He needed it. His muscles needed it.

  “Forget it.”

  He would do what he could.

  He washed up, flushed out, then walked to Huang Niuniu’s hut.

  They had a delicious meal of stinky spite and fasting brew. It was the Thrice Monk’s recipe, the spicier variant. The spice came from a strange leaf that would dissolve fully in water once boiled, fibres and all. She added stuff that looked like mustard and cumin too.

  He burped. He would feel full for the next ten hours. Sleeping extended this fast.

  After doing their night soil collecting, the group sat down in the Night Alchemists’ Yard.

  “Saw that Sima dog today,” Li Yao said. He was sharpening his sword against a black whetstone. He splashed oil on it, then alternated the sides with a back-and-forth motion.

  “Did he say anything?” Huang Niuniu leaned forward.

  “Glared, snorted, and then walked off.” Li Yao burst out laughing. “He made sure I saw his mug. Might’ve been offended if I didn’t appreciate how angry he was.”

  Huang Niuniu played with her hair. “Most young masters are like that. Vain hypocrites, crying when daddy doesn’t give them money.”

  “Xiao Zhuzi said Sima Yan owns a courtyard now.” After sharpening, Li Yao used a leather strop to polish the edges. The way he looked at the mirror-like surface with the gaze of a lover caused Huang Niuniu to lean back with a disgusted face. “They joined one. Then replaced the leader—What?” Li Yao glared at the girl.

  “Girls don’t like you, do they?” Huang Niuniu pinched her nose.

  Li Yao grinned. “Wanna fight?”

  “I’ll distract her.” Fang Zhao cracked his knuckles. “Brother Li, you can cut off her hair.”

  “Han’er, they’re bullying me!” Huang Niuniu had the gall to look offended.

  Weapon maintenance was an integral part of their week. Yu Han used the whetstone next.

  Huang Niuniu’s whips would last years with only basic maintenance. Once she reached Qi Gathering, she could refine them to bind them to herself through a ritual similar to accords. While the bond on the coveralls was placed only on the object, certain artifacts required a reciprocal connection. She would have to temper them with her own qi and blood, and nourish them with spirit stones, monster cores, and other treasures.

  They weren’t earth-grade weapons for nothing.

  Yu Han was not jealous.

  “A courtyard…” Yu Han whistled. “You need at least five people for one, right?”

  Fang Zhao nodded. He was the only person here who had been part of one.

  “We have six here,” Yu Han said. “Should we go for it? Elder Chang recommended it too.”

  Fang Zhao shook his head. “Fei Rui and the cat won’t count. We need five Stormy Reef disciples.”

  “Fei Rui and the cat won’t count. We need five Stormy Reef disciples,” Mistress Miao mimicked.

  “What are you doing?” Fang Zhao asked.

  “What are you doing?” Mistress Miao scooped up dirt with her paws and threw it at him. Fang Zhao dodged with Feather Scale Step, but the dirt followed him like it had a will of its own and hit him square on the face. When he recovered, the cat was long gone.

  Fei Rui looked at Fang Zhao, then at the donkey shed. 「I think it’s unfair that I don’t count. Grandpa said I count, you count, and everyone counts. This is too much! I will not scuttle for it.」 He scuttled away.

  Yu Han didn’t know how to respond to that.

  Huang Niuniu was on her back, laughing. Her natural laughter had died a while ago. But she pointed at Fang Zhao’s dirt-covered face and forced out fake laughter for longer just to spite him. She ended up hyperventilating.

  Yu Han went through the Night Alchemists’ Yard archive. Although they called it an archive, it was barely a few cabinets and shelves. The majority of the information was records about past night soil gathering, disciple information, promotions, elder changes, and other administrative matters.

  There were lists and recommendations, too, like a guide on collecting and drying ghoul skin. Most commonly, they were used to make curse repelling coveralls, and then automatically repair them with the magic cabinets. The flesh and bones had fewer uses. Often they were left to compost. The cores were made into a general-purpose antidote and a kind of spiritual antibiotic potion.

  No techniques, only a list. Night soil collectors could exchange them at a discount with contribution points. Unlike the free arts rookies could get from the scripture hall, it was strictly forbidden to share these.

  There were recipes for mortal-grade brews, too low level to be elixirs. They had many effects from detoxification to anti-venom, effective mostly in the body tempering stage and below. For non-cultivators, they were nothing short of a panacea. A note was scribbled along the edges. It said, in harsh strokes, that the author was a buffoon and that the panacea would turn into poison if the brew was too potent.

  Yu Han took out a notepad and flipped to his notes from “Blue Strategies Part 3: Groupings.”

  Halls were the permanent wings of the sect, like the executive body. They handled matters ranging from administration to war. Under the halls were the various minor organisations like the Night Alchemists’ Yard. These could be considered departments of a company. The book didn’t explain them too much.

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  If he recalled Tan Ruoxuan’s words correctly, the formation hall had long been dissolved. It seemed that after the new sect master came to power, he had also mandated the Unending Drizzle Palace be repurposed as the transportation hall. The Dawn Mist Crane tribe and the Wen clan were supposedly set to share management duties, though how that joint arrangement would actually function was a matter no drunkard in the marketplace had yet claimed to know, to the best of Yu Han’s knowledge.

  Speaking of clans though, in the Stormy Reef sect, ‘clan’ almost always referred to the five core clans of Shu, Tan, Wen, Liang, and Dong. The proper way to call them was with a prefix of Stormy Reef. Such as the Stormy Reef Dong clan. Previously, they were more like the board of directors. Over the years, more stakeholders joined the board. Now, the new, commoner-origin CEO had taken most of the shares and kicked the core clans to the side.

  Other than the five core clans, family organisations were simply called ‘family’ for human Cultivators, and ‘tribe’ for spirit beasts. This was the official jargon. Whether people followed it was another matter.

  Crucially, one didn’t need to be born into an organisation to be part of one.

  Disciples could register private organisations under the sect. Courtyards were the smallest form. Higher than that were the pavilions. Highest still were the palaces, like the Heavenly Friendship palace and the former Unending Drizzle palace. According to Senior Brother Wen, the previous palace Master was an elder of the Shu clan, and had stood in opposition to the current sect master.

  It was a merger and execution to use modern language.

  The sect master himself was the palace master of the Healing Mist palace. But it was merged with the Medical hall.

  Like how it's customary for US presidential candidates to relinquish positions of leadership in private businesses when they run for office?

  Yu Han didn’t remember the details of the federal law. Was there an actual law about it, or was it voluntary? Or was it something he’d read on reddit?

  He shook his head. Even if there were laws regarding it back in his old world, there probably weren’t any here.

  The previous sect master was the Shu clan’s previous patriarch. He was the sect master and the patriarch at the same time. So the current sect Master could have retained the Healing Mist palace. Why didn’t he, then?

  Was it a concession?

  Yu Han didn’t want to start an organisation if he had to give it up one day. Even Johan was bullheaded in that regard. He’d had many chances to sell his shares of Nexus Assurance Auditing for billions. He didn’t. He liked having the prestige. His middling skills in finance and IT consulting aside, he had the money.

  Being part of a courtyard had many advantages. A steady supply of external missions, for one. Tax breaks for another.

  Right now, if a disciple wanted to use a stall in the outer sect marketplace, they would have to rent one for a high price. Almost twenty mortal-grade spirit stones a month. They also had to pay a ridiculous sales tax, at fifty per cent.

  But courtyards automatically got a stall there for free, and the sales tax was at thirty per cent. This was regardless of who was selling through the courtyard, as long as they were a registered member.

  The usual practice of courtyards was to increase the product price by thirty per cent, basically making the customer pay the tax for them. In that sense, an individual not part of a courtyard would have to raise the price by fifty per cent. But if they did so, who would buy from them? They could probably get a lower-priced product from a courtyard that was just as good, if not better.

  Pavilions got an even lower tax at twenty-five per cent. They would get two free stalls. One in the outer sect centrum, the second in the Great Barrier City. They could rent additional stalls with lower fees. Even a storefront in Great Barrier City if desired.

  In theory, a pavilion could price their product even lower, only increasing the price by 25%. But the unspoken rule was that all products had to be sold as if there was a 30% sales tax. Otherwise, this would offend too many people.

  Palaces only had to pay a 20% sales tax. They didn’t get additional storefronts or stalls, though, since their member count ranged in the thousands. They could rent as many as they wanted, even buy up vast swathes of land and open their own marketplace. Yet, from what Yu Han could recall, it seemed none of the current palaces had actually done so. A lot of their business was conducted directly with big buyers, or with individuals at their own palace establishments.

  Other than tax breaks, they had many other benefits that differed from palace to palace. The Heavenly Friendship palace for example had access to many arts and resources related to cultivating alongside spirit beasts and taming primal beasts. Not to mention the rapport they had with most if not all know spirit beasts and tribes in the area.

  In conclusion, even though an individual seller not part of a courtyard had to pay a 50% sales tax, he could only increase the price of his products by 30%, thus eating into his profits.

  Yu Han flipped through his notes and circled other benefits of being part of a courtyard.

  If a courtyard could operate a stall continuously for six months in the outer sect Centrum, they would get rights to purchase an actual, physical courtyard in the Great Barrier City. It was right only. They had to pay for it.

  The Mad Bloodhounds had a house. Presumably from wisp-smuggling money.

  Yu Han felt a fire simmering in his stomach. Stingy sect master, hope your hair falls out. Why did they only give us the courtyard rights and not their real estate? I’ll sue them!

  Great Barrier City had a population of more than a million and a constant stream of foreign traders. These merchants hailed primarily from the kingdoms of the southwest and northwest, alongside those from the southern island nations of the archipelago. The city frequently hosts visitors from nearby sects and the immortal clans of the Great Xia Dynasty.

  The Stormy Reef sect was, after all, the unchallenged tital of the Sunken Mountains Peninsula, even before they integrated themselves into the Great Xia Dynasty.

  The Great Barrier City opened up a whole new market for any prospecting entrepreneur.

  A courtyard could also get a token to establish a pioneering village in the wilderness of the Sunken Mountains Peninsula if they wanted. It had to be purchased with another 100,000 contribution points, though. The sect allowed the members to pool their resources in this case. The token to establish a pioneering village came with a function to stabilise an unstable access point to the Inverted Mountains Hidden Realm. Most pioneering villages and towns were based around such small access points.

  It would give the new village a stable source of resources, but also a sudden source of danger if their luck was bad.

  Courtyards had financial obligations. Every year, they had to pay a fee to the sect, similar to renewing a business licence. For each member, the courtyard had to pay one spirit stone of the same grade as their realm, plus additional spirit stones equal to their level but of the next lower Grade.

  For example, Yu Han, at Level 2, would need to pay one mortal-grade spirit stone and two gold coins each year. Meanwhile, if there were a Level 24 foundation building Cultivator, he would have to pay one earth-grade spirit stone and four elite-grade ones.

  It’s easy at lower levels, but more expensive the stronger you are? Yu Han flipped through the archives but could find no information about whether the fee changed for pavilions. Is this what they call the sliding-scale taxing scheme?

  There was mention that for a courtyard, one could start it at body tempering. One member had to be a foundation building cultivator for a pavilion. And nascent soul for palaces.

  Did they come up with this concept to tackle the stranglehold of the five core clans? Yu Han went through the documents again, noting down any point of interest. Small sects hidden in mysterious locations of the Lower Bound Province might only have a single foundation building Cultivator as their highest powerhouse. Throughout the Great Xia Dynasty, a sect with a core formation Cultivator was considered a second-class sect. For first-class, a sect needed nascent soul.

  In that sense, just a palace, hall, or clan of the Stormy Reef sect would be considered first-class in the outside world.

  Yet even as a whole, the Stormy Reef sect was still only considered a first-class sect.

  Fang Zhao’s Trueforge Fang clan was stronger.

  Did they have Cultivators with realms higher than Nascent Soul? Then how powerful was the Bloodless Hand Temple? The August Light Immortal Sword sect? The Great Xia Dynasty and the Orthodox Alliance as a whole?

  Yu Han laughed, remembering what Fang Zhao had said in the Hidden Realm. He knew of geniuses that had broken through to core formation in two years.

  He closed the door to the archive and went out for some fresh air. Comparison really was the most insidious poison.

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