I'm in a good mood today, so I won't argue with you.

This street wasn’t long—only about three miles—but it housed the thirteen biggest gambling houses under heaven. Each one had backing from a major power: eleven of them were branches of the sixteen holy lands of the Central Continent, and the remaining two belonged to the Dark City. On ordinary days, this street was the liveliest place in all of Reception City. Lanterns blazed day and night, and the clinking of spirit stones mixed with the clamor of gamblers could be heard ten miles away.

But today, all thirteen gambling houses were shut down.

Not just closed—they were boarded up tight. On their front doors were pasted notices reading “The Proprietor Has a Joyous Occasion—Closed for Three Days,” the ink still wet, clearly put up overnight.

“Closed?” Wang Hao looked at the notice and laughed. “Old Wei, it looks like our debtors aren’t exactly rolling out the welcome mat for His Imperial Majesty.”

Wei Zhongxian flipped open the account ledger with a blank expression. “Your Majesty, according to the commercial regulations of Reception City, during the period of an active debt relationship, creditors have the right to demand that debtors conduct face-to-face reconciliation of accounts. If a debtor refuses to meet under the pretext of closing shop, the creditor may apply for compulsory account verification.”

“Apply?” Wang Hao raised an eyebrow. “To whom?”

“The city lord’s office of Reception City.”

“That’s too slow.” Wang Hao dismounted from his horse, walked up to the front door of the Gold Ten Thousand Gambling House, and knocked on the wooden panel. “Proprietor, open up. His Imperial Majesty is here to collect a debt. I won’t break anything.”

There was a flurry of movement behind the door, followed by a trembling voice: “Your… Your Majesty, our humble shop is closed today. Could you come another day…”

“Closing shop doesn’t affect debt collection.” Wang Hao’s tone remained gentle. “Proprietor, I am a reasonable man. Open the door, let’s reconcile the accounts properly—exactly what’s owed, not a single coin more, not a single coin less. If you still won’t open up, I’ll have no choice but to let my honor guard help things along.”

Silence hung in the air for a few breaths behind the door, then came the sound of hurried footsteps, followed by the muffled thud of a back door being smashed open.

“Thinking of running?” Wang Hao shook his head and sighed. “Lu Chenzhou, the back door.”

Lu Chenzhou had been waiting for that order. His figure vanished from the street for an instant, and the next moment he was in the back alley of the Gold Ten Thousand Gambling House, carrying two fat-cheeked proprietors by the scruff of their necks, like a man hauling a pair of chickens. He marched them back.

“Your Majesty, they tried to slip out the back.” Lu Chenzhou threw the two proprietors down at Wang Hao’s feet and grinned. “They also had storage rings with them—loaded with spirit stones.”

The two men lay prostrate on the ground, shivering. One of them, slightly bolder, lifted his head and forced a smile uglier than a crying face. “Your… Your Majesty Wang, our humble shop truly can’t afford to pay back… Seven hundred million spirit stones? Even if we sold everything down to the pots and pans, we couldn’t scrape that together…”

“Sell everything down to the pots and pans and still can’t do it?” Wang Hao crouched down to meet his eyes. “The Gold Ten Thousand Gambling House is a property of the Gold Ten Thousand Merchant Association. Last year, the association’s net profit was ninety million spirit stones. Your branch has been open in Reception City for sixty years, netting twenty million a year. That’s one point two billion in sixty years. And you’re telling me you can’t come up with seven hundred million?”

The proprietor’s face went white as paper. He never imagined that Wang Hao would have the financial data of the Gold Ten Thousand Merchant Association in his hands. That information was strictly internal, unknown even to many mid-level executives. How had this Eastern Wilderness emperor gotten his hands on it?

What he didn’t know was that Wang Hao had done his homework before coming here.

The system might be unreliable when it came to daily check-ins, but when it came to intelligence, it never let him down. Among the information he had obtained from signing in at Heavenly Void Peak was a detailed financial report on all thirteen gambling houses in Reception City, complete with daily revenue figures for the past decade.

“I’ll say it one more time.”

Wang Hao straightened up. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried clearly down the entire gambling street.

“Thirteen gambling houses. The spirit stones you owe me—they must be paid in full today. If you don’t have enough spirit stones, use assets to cover it. Not enough with assets, use cultivation techniques. Not enough with techniques, use mines and spirit veins. If you have nothing at all left to offer—”

He paused, letting his gaze sweep across the entire street.

“Then don’t blame me for being unkind.”

The moment he finished speaking, the auras of twenty Domain Masters simultaneously erupted. The oppressive energy of twenty Domain Masters converged above Gambling House Street into a visible shockwave that rattled the wooden panels of every building, making them buzz and hum.

Then, the front doors of all thirteen gambling houses swung open at once.

Not voluntarily—blasted open by the shockwave.

The sound of splintering wood came from every direction. The proprietors, clerks, and security guards of all thirteen houses were suddenly exposed in broad daylight.

Some crouched behind their counters clutching coin chests. Others lay sprawled under gambling tables, trembling. A few were mid-motion, stuffing spirit stones into storage pouches, their hands frozen in ridiculous postures.

“Excellent.” Wang Hao nodded in satisfaction. “Now that you’ve all opened up, let’s start reconciling accounts. Old Wei, read them out.”

Wei Zhongxian flipped open the account ledger, cleared his throat, and began reading in his flat, monotonous voice:

“Gold Ten Thousand Gambling House: debt of fifty million, compensation owed one hundred million. Current liquid assets valued at thirty-two million shortfall of sixty-eight million.”

“Crimson Sky Gambling House: debt of twenty million, compensation owed three billion. Current liquid assets valued at five hundred million—shortfall of two hundred ninety-nine billion, five hundred million.”

When he read the figure for Crimson Sky Gambling House, everyone present drew in a sharp breath. A shortfall of nearly three hundred billion? Even if they sold off the entire Crimson Sky Holy Land, they couldn’t fill that hole.

The proprietor of Crimson Sky Gambling House was a gaunt, middle-aged man in a blood-red brocade robe, his face paler than paper. His lips trembled for a long time before he managed to stammer out, “Your… Your Majesty Wang, this amount really is… is…”

“Too big?” Wang Hao finished the sentence for him. “I know it’s too big. So I’ve prepared a payment plan for all of you—one and a half percent annual interest, settled over thirty years. How’s that? Thoughtful enough, isn’t it?”

One and a half percent annual interest? A thirty-year term? Anyone in the crowd who understood finance did the math in their heads and, at the same moment, sucked in another sharp breath. At that rate, three hundred million in debt after thirty years would balloon into… astronomical numbers. With compound interest, even several generations of descendants couldn’t pay it off. This wasn’t a payment plan—it was a debt trap designed to last through eternity.

And the man behind it all stood in the middle of Gambling House Street with his hands on his hips, his smile forcing everyone present to mentally redefine the word “thoughtful.”

“I know you can’t scrape together this many spirit stones on short notice,” Wang Hao said.

His eyes swept over the thirteen pale-faced proprietors, his tone warm, like he was working through a problem with old friends.

“So I’m not going to make things difficult for you. Bring out everything of value—spirit stones, assets, cultivation techniques, weapons, pills… every single valuable item you own. Carry it all into the street. My men will appraise each item at market value and deduct it from your debt. Whatever’s left will be covered by a payment plan: one and a half percent annual interest, thirty years.”

“Of course—” He raised one finger, a trace of sharpness creeping into his smile. “If any proprietor thinks my plan is unreasonable, you’re free to refuse. But once you refuse, I will follow Reception City’s commercial regulations and apply to the city lord’s office for compulsory enforcement. And if the city lord’s office can’t handle it… I’ll handle it myself.”

“Handle it yourself.” He said these four words softly, yet cold sweat broke out on the backs of all thirteen shopkeepers simultaneously.

A Martial God’s “handle it yourself”—what would the outcome be? The Heavenly Void Peak had been carved down by a thousand zhang; under his “handling,” how many bricks of a mere thirteen gambling dens could remain?

“I... I’ll sign!” The owner of the Ten Thousand Gold Gambling Den was the first to crack. He fell to his knees with a thud, pulling out a string of storage rings from his bosom, offering them with both hands. “All the assets of my humble shop are here. For anything insufficient, this humble one will sign an installment agreement. I only beg Your Majesty to show mercy and leave me a way to survive.”

Once there was a first, a second followed. One after another, the shopkeepers knelt down, piling storage rings, land deeds, cultivation manuals, and bottles of elixirs in the middle of the street. Within the time it takes to burn a single incense stick, the green stone pavement of Gambling Den Street was covered with a small mountain of treasures.

Wei Zhongxian led a group of scribes, beginning to itemize, appraise, and register everything. With every number he read aloud, another shopkeeper’s face grew a shade paler. For Wei Zhongxian’s appraisals were brutally precise—neither overestimating nor underestimating, hitting exactly the lowest market price, leaving them with no grounds to argue.

Meanwhile, Lu Chenzhou led the Imperial Guard, ransacking every gambling den, prying open every hidden compartment, secret chamber, and wall cavity—not even sparing the spirit stones stuffed between the cracks. The corpse-looting skills he had honed in the secret realm were now given full play in this confiscation operation.

Wanyan Gu stood outside directing the Imperial Guard in hauling supplies, while Su Lie set up a surveillance formation at the entrance of every gambling den. In his words: “To prevent anyone from sneaking off with assets while things are chaotic.”

Xiao Chen and Ye Guyun took their positions to Wang Hao’s left and right. One held his heavy ruler in silence; the other clutched his Cold Abyss Sword, his face as cold as frost. The fighting intent radiating from the two men cooled every hot head who might have been tempted to act.

Everything was proceeding in perfect order—until the owner of the Red Firmament Gambling Den suddenly snapped.

This shopkeeper surnamed Li was the direct nephew of Li Tianxing from the Red Firmament Sacred Land. He had run his business in Reception City for fifty years and had always been the one others kowtowed to. He had never suffered such humiliation. As he knelt there, watching his lifetime of accumulated wealth being carried away piece by piece, his reason finally snapped.

“Wang Hao!”

He leaped to his feet, eyes bloodshot, jabbing a finger at Wang Hao’s face as he cursed.

“Don’t push too far! My Red Firmament Sacred Land is, at the very least, one of the Sixteen Sacred Lands of the Central Continent, passed down for ten thousand years. How dare you, a mere emperor of the Barbaric Wastelands, humiliate me? You confiscate my gambling den today, and tomorrow my uncle will lead the Sacred Land’s disciples to trample your Eastern Wastelands flat! Just you wait—”

He didn’t finish.

Xiao Chen’s hand was already on his heavy ruler; Ye Guyun’s Cold Abyss Sword had been drawn half an inch. But Wang Hao raised his hand, signaling them to stand down.

“Your uncle?” Wang Hao walked up to Shopkeeper Li, looking down at the frenzied middle-aged man. “Your uncle is Li Tianxing, right? The one who was struck by my heavenly tribulation on Heavenly Void Peak and fled with his head in his hands—that Red Firmament Sacred Land Patriarch. Ask him if he dares utter a single ‘no’ to me now.”

Shopkeeper Li opened his mouth to retort, only to find his throat constricted as if by an invisible hand.

Because Wang Hao was stating the truth. Though Li hadn’t witnessed the events on Heavenly Void Peak with his own eyes, the news had already spread across the Central Continent—three Martial Gods and five Demon Gods had joined forces to ambush Wang Hao, only to be blasted apart by his heavenly tribulation, barely saving themselves by signing humiliating treaties. Even his uncle, Li Tianxing himself, was cowed into silence. What was he—barely even at the Flight Realm—to threaten a Martial God with?

“Today, I’m in a good mood, so I won’t trouble you.” Wang Hao turned and made a gesture to Wei Zhongxian. “Continue the inventory. All assets of the Red Firmament Gambling Den are forfeited in full. If that’s not enough—Li Tianxing owes me anyway. Tell him to come find me and haggle.”

Then he stood amid the mountain of confiscated goods, cleared his throat, and flashed a brilliant smile at the onlookers lining the entire street.

“Dear friends of Reception City, since I’m in a fine mood today, let me announce some good news. Starting immediately, the Eastern Wastelands will establish an ‘Imperial Bank,’ specializing in deposit and loan services. Annual deposit interest rate: three percent. Annual loan rate: five percent. That’s higher than the rates offered by the existing money houses here, with a lower entry barrier. Everyone is welcome to enthusiastically deposit money and support the development of the Eastern Wastelands.”

The entire street fell silent.