80: Chapter 80 Forget about justice, let's talk about everyone's year-end bonuses.

Levi's carriage arrived at the white stone plaza before the Council Chamber as the first rays of dawn pierced the capital's thin mist.

The sound of wheels rolling over the smooth flagstones echoed in the empty square, sounding exceptionally clear.

He was in no hurry to alight. Instead, he quietly observed the grand edifice symbolizing the Empire's highest authority through the carriage's crystal glass window.

The Skyward Council Chamber was constructed entirely from rare moonstone, glowing with a soft, holy, milky-white halo in the morning light.

Countless intricate reliefs climbed its walls, narrating the Empire's thousand-year epic of glory—from the founding monarch slaying the evil dragon to successive generations of sages codifying laws.

Every single stone seemed to exude an awe-inspiring majesty that pressed down on one's chest, making it hard to breathe.

The air was filled with a cold, damp scent, mingled with the faint fragrance of roses from the nearby gardens, reminiscent of the atmosphere before a grand funeral.

Princess Ella Radiant sat opposite him. Having stayed up all night, her emerald eyes were bloodshot.

She clutched the hem of her skirt tightly, her palms slick with cold sweat.

'Do we truly have to go in? It's not too late to turn back. If I present the royal token, I can at least buy you time for diplomatic mediation...' Her voice trembled uncontrollably.

Levi's gaze withdrew from the impossibly high dome of the Council Chamber and settled on Ella's tense face.

He even had the composure to smooth out the creases on his cuffs, his movements unhurried.

'Your Highness, have you ever seen a project manager flee right before a product launch event?'

'Product launch event?!' Ella's voice rose an octave, brimming with incredulity. 'This is a trial! A guillotine Victor has meticulously prepared for you!'

'A trial and a launch event are not fundamentally different,' Levi stated calmly, as if stating a fact. 'Both are about selling a kind of 'value' to a group with decision-making power. Victor wants to sell the value of 'order.' I want to sell the value of 'profit.' It all comes down to which product is more appealing to the clientele.'

With that, he pushed open the carriage door and stepped out directly.

The rising sun cast his long shadow onto the hundred steps leading to the Council Chamber, like a solitary, resolute stroke of ink.

Inside the Council Chamber, the space was so vast it made one feel insignificant.

A magical mural depicting the flow of stars was painted on the enormous dome, as if trapping the entire night sky within.

Light streamed in from the long, narrow high windows on either side, casting countless straight beams into the air. Dust drifted slowly within these beams, adding a touch of sanctity to the solemn, dignified hall.

The cold marble floor reflected rows of arcing councilor seats. Hundreds of nobles from across the Empire were already seated.

Dressed in various ornate family formal attire and wearing emblems symbolizing their status, they conversed in low tones, their eyes occasionally darting towards the empty defendant's stand in the center, as if admiring a sacrificial offering about to be placed on the altar.

On the high platform, the Empire's Grand Speaker, Victor Augustus, sat upon the Speaker's throne crafted from obsidian and gold.

He was over sixty, his hair already gray, but his back was ramrod straight. His face was as cold and hard as granite, his deeply set gray eyes holding an unfathomable, authoritative calm.

He represented the glory and order of the old nobility. Any existence that dared challenge this order was but dust he must crush.

When Levi, under the 'escort' of guards, walked unhurriedly to the defendant's stand and took his place, the hall fell silent in an instant.

All eyes focused on him—curiosity, disdain, schadenfreude—all were present.

He wore a well-tailored black formal suit, devoid of any superfluous ornaments. His expression was calm; he even nodded in acknowledgment to a few 'business partners' who recognized him, as if he were not here to stand trial, but to attend an ordinary social gathering.

Victor watched him coldly, offering him no chance to speak.

He picked up the small gavel on the table and struck the metal base heavily, producing a sharp 'clang' whose echo lingered in the hall.

'Silence!' His booming voice seemed to carry the force of law, suppressing all other sounds.

'Summon the Empire's Chief Tax Officer, Andre Fischer.'

A thin, middle-aged official wearing a monocle emerged from a side door. He carried a stack of accounting reports thicker than he was tall and walked with heavy steps to the witness stand.

He bowed deeply to Victor, cleared his throat, and began reading the report in a dry, precise tone.

'Honorable Speaker, esteemed councilors. Based on the Empire's Tax Bureau's cross-analysis of tax data from all provinces over the past six months, we have discovered a... troubling trend.' The tax officer adjusted his glasses and turned to the first page of the report. 'Taking the southern silk-producing province of Corien as an example, the quarterly tax contribution from its traditional silk industry has declined by twelve percent compared to the same period last year. Taking the western spice-producing region of Harlan County as an example, its high-end spice export tax revenue has declined by nine percent. Similar situations have occurred in twenty-seven other traditional dominant industries, including alchemical materials, luxury leather goods, and fine spirits, with declines ranging from five to fifteen percent.'

A faint stir rippled through the hall.

These numbers directly touched the interests of many nobles present.

Ignoring the reaction, the tax officer continued, 'After tracing the root cause, we found that all these tax shortfalls point to the same source—Blackstone Territory. Through an... unprecedented business model, Lord Byron has integrated and repackaged goods originally scattered across various fields. Utilizing his monopolized border trade routes, he has created an entirely new product called 'luxury sets,' directly impacting traditional sales channels everywhere. This has led to a massive loss of transaction taxes that should have been levied locally. More seriously,' he emphasized his tone, 'Lord Byron, through unclear contracts with abyssal creatures, obtains vast quantities of rare resources at extremely low costs. This constitutes unfair competition and is fundamentally shaking the foundations of the Empire's free tax system! The conclusion is that Blackstone Territory's actions are hollowing out the Empire's very foundations!'

The report concluded, and the tax officer presented the hefty evidence of guilt.

Discussions buzzed in the hall. A faint, almost imperceptible smile of satisfaction appeared on Victor's face.

The evidence was solid, the logic clear. Within the bounds of Imperial law, Levi was already a dead man.

'Levi Byron.' Victor's voice was like the final judgment. 'Regarding the tax officer's accusations, do you have anything to say in your defense?'

Levi smiled slightly. Without a word, he turned sideways and made a 'please' gesture towards the spectator gallery.

Just as everyone was puzzled, a figure rose from a corner of the spectator gallery.

He wore a faded scholar's robe, his hair meticulously combed. Though his face still bore traces of long-term inebriation, his eyes shone with startling intensity, like two quenched blades.

Hamilton.

He walked down the steps slowly, each footfall exceptionally steady.

First, he bowed deeply to the Speaker's platform, his posture impeccable. Then, he turned to the tax officer, his voice clear and resonant. 'Honorable Officer Fischer. I, Hamilton, as legal counsel for Lord Byron, may I ask you a question?'

Victor's brow furrowed, but he couldn't directly overrule it on procedural grounds. He nodded.

'Thank you, Speaker.' Hamilton's gaze locked onto the tax officer. 'Officer Fischer, all the data you just cited points to one fact—tax revenues from traditional industries are declining. We do not dispute this.'

These words caused an uproar in the hall.

Even Ella nearly jumped to her feet in shock.

No one expected Levi's defender to fully admit to the core accusation right from the start.

Ignoring the reactions, Hamilton pivoted sharply. 'But I would like to ask, in your report, did you account for the 'newly added' tax items generated by Blackstone Territory's trade? For example, how much tax revenue did our pioneering 'Commercial Security Service Tax' bring to the Empire? How much did the 'Special Labor Tax' generated by our employment of goblins for tunnel maintenance contribute? And what about the 'Emerging Agricultural Product Transaction Tax' from the 'inferior magical crops' that previously rotted in the fields but are now sold to the north through our channels? Did you account for those?'

The tax officer was stunned. He had never heard of these terms.

They simply didn't exist in the Imperial tax code.

'It seems you did not.' A hint of mockery curled at the corner of Hamilton's mouth. 'Then allow me to introduce two concepts. What you accounted for is called the 'existing tax base.' Yes, we admit that Blackstone Territory's business model has, to some extent, eroded the old, rigid existing tax base. But this is not destruction; it is... industrial upgrading!'

His voice suddenly rose, brimming with provocation. 'What we have truly done is create a brand new, vast market of 'incremental value' on a commercial wasteland the Empire has never touched—composed of border waste, abyssal specialties, and cross-species labor cooperation! Far from shaking the Empire's foundations, we are laying deeper, broader new foundations for the Empire's edifice! The reason you perceive destruction is simply because the Empire's antiquated tax code has not yet learned how to levy taxes from this brand new, vigorously developing market! The fault lies not with us, but with your laggardness!'

This shocking statement exploded like a thunderclap in the Council Chamber.

Everyone was bewildered by this unheard-of theory of 'existing' versus 'incremental.'

It sounded like nonsense, but upon closer thought, the tight logical chain left one with no rebuttal.

'Nonsense!' Victor finally couldn't endure it. He slammed the table and stood up, anger blazing in his gray eyes. 'This is the Imperial Council Chamber, not a debating ground for you to play with words! The fact is, tax revenue is decreasing! The foundations are shaking! I declare the debate concluded. Now—'

'Speaker, please calm yourself.'

A cool, female voice interrupted him.

Everyone looked towards the source. The stunningly beautiful maid who had been silently standing beside Levi—Sylvie—stepped forward, holding a stack of exquisitely bound booklets.

Levi nodded to her.

Sylvie then turned and, under the stunned gazes of the guards, walked with elegant steps, distributing those booklets to each councilor present.

Her movements were precise and efficient, as if rehearsed a thousand times.

The councilors took the booklets in confusion.

The covers were made of fine-tanned parchment, warm to the touch, with gilded edges. Emblazoned in the center was their respective family crests, as exquisite as a valuable invitation.

'What is this?' one councilor couldn't help but ask.

'The Blackstone Territory Annual Shareholder Return Prospectus Report,' Levi's voice, though not loud, carried clearly throughout the hall.

With skepticism, everyone opened the report.

After the title page, there wasn't a single word defending Levi.

In its place was a series of clear, direct, even coldly presented charts and numbers.

An old duke famous for silk trade stared in shock at the first chart in his report: the profit growth curve of his family's merchant caravan's cooperation with Blackstone Territory over the past six months.

The red line representing profits climbed upward at a steep, almost exaggerated angle.

A small note below read: 'If cooperation terminates, projected next-quarter profits will fall below original baseline by twenty percent.'

For another southern grand duke who had recently invested a fortune to secure the mining rights to a 'safe mining zone' from Levi, the inner pages of his report were even more direct.

It clearly listed his investment of three hundred thousand gold coins and the projected annualized return rate calculated based on Blackstone Territory's existing exploration data and market price models—a number that made his heart leap and his breath quicken: three hundred percent!

The last page of every report bore the same sentence written in elegant cursive: 'All interpretation rights of the Blackstone Territory commercial entity belong to its largest creditor and all equity holders.'

In an instant, the very air in the Council Chamber changed.

The solemn, dignified atmosphere of judging guilt vanished without a trace, replaced by a heated, almost stock-exchange-like atmosphere mixed with greed, anxiety, and calculation.

Councilors no longer whispered about Levi's crimes. They lowered their heads, staring intently at the reports in their hands, fingers quickly calculating in their minds, eyes gleaming with fervor.

Victor stared in astonishment at this subversive scene.

He felt his meticulously arranged Inquisition had, in a moment, turned into a frenzied marketplace.

He tried to regain control, but his voice was drowned out by the councilors' barely suppressed discussions.

Finally, the southern grand duke who had invested three hundred thousand gold coins, after repeatedly confirming that glaring return rate, snapped his report shut and was the first to stand up.

His face flushed, he completely ignored Victor's authority and directly demanded loudly:

'Speaker! I have a question! Does the Council have the right to forcibly seize or dissolve a commercial entity with such astounding returns without the consent of us 'shareholders,' the primary investors?! Does this not directly violate the highest principle of 'the inviolability of private property' in the Imperial Property Law?!'

His words were like a spark tossed into boiling oil, instantly igniting the entire hall.

'Exactly! The Duke speaks the truth!'

'My alchemy workshop just signed a three-year exclusive supply agreement with Blackstone Territory! If Blackstone Territory falls, who will compensate my losses?'

'What about our investments? Those are contracts notarized by the Imperial Merchant Guild!'

'This is an open trampling of the interests of all investors!'

Councilors stood up one after another, waving their reports, the crowd growing agitated.

They had completely forgotten their roles as 'judges' and fully embraced their 'investor' personas.

Everyone was fervently discussing the projected returns in the reports, the potential losses to their family industries, and the great issue of 'the inviolability of commercial entities.'

Victor stared dumbfounded at the scene of utter chaos before him.

He realized that those who had been staunch allies were now lowering their heads, using paper and pens they carried to calculate something rapidly. The looks they gave him had shifted from respect to wariness and distance.

No one in the entire Council Chamber cared anymore about 'the Empire's foundations' or the 'free tax system.'

They only cared about their own purses.

Levi stood at the defendant's stand. From beginning to end, he hadn't said another word.

He simply watched the chaos he had orchestrated, as if appreciating a masterpiece.

He turned his head and said softly to Princess Ella, who stood beside him, utterly stunned, her worldview seemingly reshaped:

'The hearing is over. Now, it's board meeting time.'