Chapter Thirty-Three: The Method of Settlement

“System, be honest with me. How many contribution points do I still owe you in total?” Lin Lei asked cautiously.

“The host still owes this system, principal plus interest, a total of 110 contribution points,” the system replied.

“I knew it—what was agreed upon was principal plus interest, not profit...” Lin Lei sighed in relief.

If it were like a war loan, where repayment included ten percent profit, he’d be at a terrible loss.

After all, this mission alone had earned him over 1,300 contribution points (including the unretrieved refined iron ore). Ten percent of that is more than 130 points—more than double the principal.

“Please rest assured, host, this system does not impose arbitrary fees. Would you like to proceed with the final settlement for this time-space traversal now?” the system inquired again.

“What’s the process for the final settlement? How does it work? Is there a time limit?” Lin Lei wanted to understand the details.

“Final settlement refers to the profit calculation after each space-time traversal. If, after deducting all debts, your remaining contribution points have increased by more than 105 compared to the last settlement, this counts as a profit: your credit rating rises, your war loan limit increases, and you must pay a five percent income tax on the profit. If it’s less than 105, it counts as a loss: your credit rating drops, your loan limit decreases, and if you accumulate five consecutive losses, 100 contribution points will be forcibly deducted as a penalty; with each further loss, the penalty increases tenfold…”

In other words, after each mission, Lin Lei must, after clearing his debts, earn enough to fund the next traversal through a primary time-space barrier (100 points), plus five percent personal income tax.

If not, his credit score drops, and if he racks up five or more losses, the system will forcibly deduct contribution points, each time harsher than the last, until he runs out. At that point, Lin Lei would have to pay with previously exchanged goods—or even his life.

For the system, a host who can’t earn contribution points is better replaced sooner than later.

Yet even if Lin Lei earned plenty, he couldn’t escape exploitation. Five percent profit tax may not sound like much, but for someone who agonizes over every point spent, it feels like being sliced with a butcher’s knife.

Fortunately, the timing of the final settlement was up to Lin Lei; as long as he did it before the end of the month or before the next traversal, it was fine.

Also, any materials exchanged count as expenses, not profits.

“So this is basically an incentive to spend and a way to legally avoid taxes?” Lin Lei finally understood why the system kept asking if he wanted to settle now.

If Lin Lei steeled himself and exchanged a ton of materials before settling, keeping only 105 contribution points, he’d still be making a profit and would only need to pay the minimum tax of five points.

Many real-world companies do the same—rushing to buy things before the fiscal year ends, upgrading the company fleet with luxury cars (which end up as personal vehicles), providing employees with lavish apartments (with deeds in private names), or investing early in future strategies, all to minimize their book profits and thus their taxes.

“So, host, do you plan to exchange for any materials?” The system returned to its merchant-like nature.

If Lin Lei wanted to avoid taxes, he’d have to spend with the system anyway, and the system’s profits from that would far outstrip the five percent tax.

“You’re trying to empty out my nest egg!” Lin Lei said, pained. “Fine, give me the strongest cultivation package.”

He had planned to start training before returning anyway, so exchanging now would save him quite a few points.

“What price range would you like for the cultivation package?” the system asked.

“Didn’t I just say the strongest package? Why are there different price ranges? How can it be the strongest then?” Lin Lei was puzzled.

“The more you spend, the higher your level of advancement. Did you really think you could become the universe’s strongest just by spending 288 points? The 288 package I recommended before was just to boost your power past a Level Three Evolver, close to Level Four,” the system replied, full of disdain.

Lin Lei’s previous aim had been to beat Yang Chunxi without high-tech gadgets, so the system had suggested the 288-point “strongest” package.

“So what options do I have?” Lin Lei inquired.

“The basic package is only 58 points. The Early Awakening package is 288 points. The Mid-Awakening package is 888 points. As for the advanced packages… it’s not worth mentioning since you don’t have enough points,” the system said, quashing his hopes before beginning its introduction.

The basic package included a cultivation manual and an Awakening Pill. Lin Lei would have to train step by step, pushing his limits until, with the pill, he could awaken his innate abilities and embark on the cultivation path.

The price was low, but successful awakening would take about a month.

Transforming from an ordinary person to a powerhouse nearly at the Fourth Evolutionary Level in a month was already astonishing by most standards. Yang Chunxi, after all, had taken four years to reach Level Three.

But Lin Lei wasn’t tempted. For just 230 more points, he could awaken in half an hour.

If you can pay for instant results, why bother sweating it out?

The only question now was whether the 288 or 888 package offered better value.

According to the system, the difference between Early and Mid-Awakening was the amount of source energy and mastery over innate abilities.

Of course, if your ability was rare enough, even at Early Awakening you could one-shot a Mid-Awakening powerhouse.

Thus, the 288-point package was more than enough for Lin Lei’s needs.

“I’ll take the 288-point strongest package,” Lin Lei decided at last.

Even though he was spending to avoid taxes, he couldn’t be reckless. He needed to prepare for his next traversal.

He also had to make arrangements in the real world—exchange some high-value goods and earn his first real fortune.

“By the way, do I have to pay income tax on the contribution points I make in the real world? I’ll have to pay corporate taxes to the local government anyway,” Lin Lei suddenly remembered.

“Since the real world doesn’t count as a mission, there’s no final settlement and thus no tax. But the real world has its own protection mechanism: you only get one chance to reclaim your materials. Once used, you must wait at least 100,000 years before you can reclaim again,” the system explained.