Chapter 10: The Tribute

  A week later.

  The Park Sect was no longer a curiosity; it was an institution.

  At 6:00 AM sharp, fifty people gathered in the clearing. The yellow bucket was replaced by a digital card reader that Sarah managed with an iPad.

  Wei's "Stamina Potions" at the coffee shop were sold out by 10 AM daily.

  The "Cave" now had a rug.

  Wei sat on his mattress, counting his digital wealth on his iPhone.

  "Five thousand Spirit Dollars," Wei murmured. "In one week. At this rate, I will be able to buy a small island within the year."

  Sarah sat at the small folding table she had bought for "Administrative Duties."

  She looked stressed.

  "Yeah, about that wealth," she said, tapping her pen. "We need to talk about the IRS."

  Wei looked up.

  "The... IRS?"

  "The Internal Revenue Service. The Tax Man."

  Sarah spun her laptop around. It showed a spreadsheet.

  "You're making money, Wei. A lot of money. And in this realm, uncle Sam wants his cut."

  "Uncle Sam?"

  "The Government. The King. The Emperor."

  Wei nodded. "Ah. The Imperial Tribute. I am familiar. What is the rate?"

  "Well," Sarah winced. "Self-employment tax... City tax... State tax... Federal tax... You're looking at about thirty percent."

  Wei froze.

  "Thirty percent?"

  The air in the room dropped ten degrees. The water pipe stopped dripping.

  "That is... steep. The Azure Cloud Sect only demanded ten percent of our harvest."

  "Welcome to New York," Sarah shrugged. "Death and Taxes, Wei. You can't avoid them."

  Wei narrowed his eyes.

  "And if I refuse? If I defend my treasury?"

  Sarah looked him in the eye.

  "don't. Just don't. The NYPD is one thing. They have batons and rules. The IRS? They have infinite time, infinite resources, and they will freeze your assets so fast your head will spin. They took down Al Capone."

  "Al Capone?"

  "A great Warlord. Undefeated in battle. Defeated by an accountant."

  Wei considered this.

  A "Warlord" defeated by math.

  The *IRS Sect* must be powerful indeed. Perhaps they practiced the Dao of Absolute Void, erasing one's existence from the ledger of reality.

  "I see," Wei said solemnly. "The IRS Sect is not to be trifled with."

  He tapped his phone.

  "Very well. Pay the tribute. Appease the Emperor."

  "Smart choice," Sarah sighed. "I'll set up estimated quarterly payments. We don't want an audit."

  "Audit?"

  "That's when they send the Inquisitors to check your soul."

  Wei shuddered.

  "Pay them forty percent," Wei decided. "Just to be safe."

  Chapter 11: The Future

  One month later.

  The air in the Cave was no longer damp; it was conditioned.

  Wei had purchased a dehumidifier (a "Water Essence Trap") and a high-quality rug.

  He sat on his mattress, his posture perfect, seemingly levitating above the memory foam.

  Sarah sat at her desk—a real desk now, not a card table.

  She tapped her laptop.

  "Okay, Q1 review," she announced.

  "Treasury update," Wei intoned.

  "After taxes, expenses, and my cut... we are sitting on twenty-five thousand dollars liquid. Plus another two thousand in the 'Petty Cash' jar."

  Wei nodded.

  "Twenty-five thousand."

  It was an abstract number. In the Azure Cloud Sect, twenty-five thousand Spirit Stones would buy a small mountain peak or a mid-grade flying sword.

  Here, it settled in a digital cloud.

  "It is a strong foundation," Wei agreed.

  Sarah stopped typing. She spun her chair around.

  She looked at Wei. The man was still wearing robes (though they were now high-quality silk, custom-ordered from a theatrical supply store). He still lived in a basement. He still caught pigeons for fun (and released them).

  "Wei," she said softly. "We need to talk about the future."

  Wei opened one eye. "The future is the result of the present. Cultivate today, ascend tomorrow."

  "No, I mean *your* future. What's the endgame here?"

  She gestured to the room.

  "You have enough money to rent a real apartment. You could buy a car. You could go to college. You could... date."

  Wei blinked. "Date?"

  "You know, find a Dao Companion."

  Wei shuddered. "Dao Companions require immense resource upkeep. I am not ready for that level of tribulation."

  Sarah laughed. "Okay, scratch dating. But seriously, Wei. What do you *want* out of life? You're not just 'Average' anymore. Here, you're elite. You're the Master."

  Wei went silent.

  *What do I want?*

  In the Azure Cloud Sect, nobody asked an Outer Disciple what they wanted.

  You wanted to survive the next beast hunt. You wanted to pass the monthly assessment so you didn't get kicked out. You wanted to eat meat once a week.

  Desire was a luxury for the Inner Disciples. For the Chosen Ones.

  Han Wei was just... filler.

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  But here?

  Here, he had followers. He had gold. He had respect.

  He looked at the concrete walls of his Cave.

  "In my world," Wei said slowly. "The weak do not have 'wants'. They have 'assignments'."

  Sarah listened.

  "But here..." Wei stood up. He walked to the dripping pipe.

  "I want safety," Wei decided. "Not just for me. For the Sect."

  He turned to Sarah.

  "The Park is exposed. The wind, the rain, the Blue Clad Enforcers. It is a temporary camp."

  He clenched his fist.

  "I want a Fortress."

  "A Fortress?" Sarah raised an eyebrow.

  "A Dojo. A Hall. A building with thick walls and a roof that does not leak. A place where the Park Sect can cultivate without fear of frisbees or subpoenas."

  Sarah grinned.

  "So, you want to buy real estate in New York City."

  "Yes. A permanent Foundation."

  Sarah turned back to her laptop. She opened a new tab.

  "Zillow," she announced. "The most terrifying scroll in the Human Realm."

  She typed in some filters.

  "Okay, Wei. You want a building? In this market? With twenty-five grand?"

  She turned the screen to him.

  It showed a list of numbers. Large numbers. Ideally, phone-number sized numbers.

  "We're gonna need to sell a *lot* more coffee," Sarah said.

  Wei looked at the prices.

  $1,500,000. $2,200,000.

  He didn't flinch.

  "Then we expand," Wei stated. "The Han Solo Special is merely the First Tier."

  He looked at Sarah.

  "It is time to introduce the 'Double Shot'."

  Chapter 12: The Algorithm

  "No," Sarah said, shutting her laptop.

  Wei paused mid-stretch.

  "No? The Double Shot is a sound strategy. Twice the Qi, twice the price."

  "It's math, Wei. Even if you sell 200 cups a day at $30, that's $6,000. After taxes and expenses, you net maybe $3,000. To buy a $2 million building, you'd need to work every single day for two years without spending a dime."

  She looked at him.

  "And that's assuming your liver doesn't explode from Qi exhaustion."

  Wei frowned.

  "Two years of labor for a foundation? That is... actually quite fast compared to the Sect."

  "It's too slow for New York," Sarah corrected. "Interest rates are rising. The market is volatile."

  She pulled out her phone.

  "If you want 'F-U Money', Wei, you can't work for it. you have to be *viral*."

  Wei leaned in. "Viral? Like a plague?"

  "Like an infection," Sarah agreed. "But a profitable one. Let me tell you about TikTok."

  She opened the app.

  Wei watched the screen.

  A girl dancing. *Swipe.*

  A man screaming at a sandwich. *Swipe.*

  A cat falling off a table. *Swipe.*

  "This is chaos," Wei observed. "The attention span is nonexistent. It is the Sect of the Goldenfish."

  "It's the Sect of the Algorithm," Sarah corrected. "And it has a billion disciples."

  She pointed the camera at him.

  "We need to monetize you, Wei. Not just your coffee. *You*."

  "Me?"

  "Your look. Your vibe. Your insane ability to do things that physics says shouldn't happen."

  Wei smoothed his robes.

  "I am a cultivator. I do not 'dance'."

  "You don't have to dance. Just... exist. But cooler."

  She walked to the kitchenette in the corner of the Cave.

  She grabbed a bagel. She grabbed a cheap, dull kitchen knife from Target.

  "Cut this bagel," Sarah commanded.

  Wei looked at the bagel. It was stale. Rock hard.

  He looked at the knife. It was pathetic.

  "This blade has no edge," Wei noted.

  "Just cut it."

  Wei sighed.

  He didn't saw at the bread. That was for mortals.

  He infused a sliver of Qi into his wrist. He visualized the *Intent* of the cut. The separation of matter.

  *Sword Art: Severing the Mountain.*

  He flicked his wrist.

  *Shing.*

  A sound like a bell ringing.

  The bagel fell into two perfectly smooth halves. The cut was so clean the surface looked polished.

  Behind the bagel, the cheap plastic cutting board was also split in two.

  And the table underneath it.

  Sarah lowered the phone. Her mouth was open.

  "Okay," she whispered. "That's the one."

  "I destroyed the table," Wei apologized. "I used too much intent."

  "Wei," Sarah looked at him with terrifying intensity. "We are going to be so rich."

  She typed a caption: *POV: When the bagel is stale but your knife skills are legit. #bagel #chef #swordmaster #fyp*

  She hit 'Post'.

  "Now," Sarah said, setting a timer. "We wait for the Algorithm to notice."

  Wei looked at the broken table.

  "Does the Algorithm pay for furniture?"

  "If this works," Sarah grinned. "The Algorithm pays for *everything*."