The peace of the "Final Settlement" lasted exactly one thousand and ninety-five days. To the citizens of Earth, it was known as the Gilded Sabbath—three years where the sky remained stubbornly blue, the crops grew without mana-fertilizer, and the only "Levels" anyone worried about were the ones on a carpenter's transit.
Han Jue sat on the porch of his home in the hills above District 7, his silver-tipped fountain pen hovering over a blank page. He was sixty now, the white in his hair no longer a mark of Sovereign stress but a simple tax of time. He had grown fond of the silence.
But the silence was changing. It was becoming heavy.
"Jue," Han Ling said, stepping onto the porch. She was no longer the Chancellor, but she still carried herself with the precision of a woman who knew the exact value of a second. She held a glass of water, but the water wasn't still. It was vibrating in a perfect, rhythmic geometric pattern. "It's happening again. The Dividend is peaking."
Han Jue looked down at his own hands. They were translucent. For a brief second, he could see the wooden grain of the porch chair through his palms. It didn't hurt. It felt like being a high-resolution image that was slowly losing its bit-rate.
"I gave them the Source, Ling-er," Han Jue said, his voice a low rasp. "I made them all shareholders. I thought if everyone owned a piece of existence, no one would be greedy enough to break it."
"That's the problem with a 100% Public Offering, Brother," Ling-er said, sitting beside him. "When everyone owns the Source, everyone starts spending it."
The Hyper-Inflation of Reality
When Han Jue shattered the Auditor's Gavel and redistributed the Source, he had effectively given every human an "Unlimited Credit Line" of reality. In the beginning, it was a miracle. A farmer in Africa wanted rain? He spent a micro-fraction of his "Share," and the clouds gathered. A scientist in Tokyo needed a breakthrough? He leveraged his "Potential," and the neurons fired in a perfect sequence.
But the math of the universe was a jealous god. By making everyone a Sovereign of their own life, Han Jue had triggered the ultimate economic catastrophe: Universal Hyper-Inflation.
If everyone could manifest their desires, the value of "Reality" began to drop. The more people "spent" their shares of the Source, the thinner the fabric of the world became.
Han Jue pulled out his old, leather-bound notebook. It wasn't a magical artifact anymore, but his mind still worked in the language of the Ledger. He began to calculate the Dilution Rate.
$$R_{dilution} = \frac{\sum_{i=1}^{n} (Desire_i \cdot Source\_Spend_i)}{Total\_Stability\_Constant}$$
"The rate is exponential," Han Jue muttered, his pen scratching frantically. "At the current spend-rate, the 'Total Stability' of the planet will hit zero in less than six months. We aren't being harvested by the Void Emperors anymore, Ling-er. We're spending ourselves into extinction."
The Ghost in the Market
The front gate of the garden creaked open. It wasn't the mailman.
A man in a suit of pure, unreflective grey walked up the path. He didn't have a face, only a single, vertical line of glowing white text where his features should be. He carried a briefcase made of "Non-Existent Matter."
Han Jue stood up, his hand instinctively reaching for a gavel that was no longer there.
"The Void Emperors are dead," Han Jue said, his voice hardening. "The Boardroom is closed. Who are you?"
"I AM THE REGULATOR," the man said. His voice wasn't a sound; it was a line of text that appeared in Han Jue's mind, perfectly formatted in a legal font. "YOU REDISTRIBUTED THE PRIMARY EQUITY WITHOUT FILING A LIQUIDITY PLAN. YOU HAVE CREATED A BUBBLE IN THE TOTALITY. I AM HERE TO COMMENCE THE DELISTING OF THE HUMAN RACE."
"Delisting?" Elena Sol stepped out from the house, her hand on a kinetic pistol. "Earth is an Independent Sovereign Entity. We've already cleared our debt!"
"INDEPENDENCE REQUIRES SOLVENCY," the Regulator replied. The text in Han Jue's mind turned a sharp, warning red. "YOUR SPECIES IS CURRENTLY OPERATING AT A 400% REALITY-DEFICIT. YOU ARE SPENDING MORE EXISTENCE THAN THE SECTOR GENERATES. IN THREE CYCLES, YOUR PLANET WILL BECOME A 'NULL-ZONE'—A HOLE IN THE LEDGER THAT THREATENS TO SUCK IN THE NEIGHBORING GALAXIES."
Han Jue stepped off the porch, his eyes narrowing. "You're not with the Exchange. You're from the Central Bank of the Multiverse, aren't you?"
"WE PREFER THE TERM: THE BUREAU OF CONSTANTS," the Regulator said. "WE ENSURE THAT THE SUM OF THE UNIVERSE ALWAYS EQUALS ONE. YOUR 'CO-OP' EXPERIMENT HAS TURNED THE SUM INTO AN IMAGINARY NUMBER."
The Audit of the Shareholders
The Regulator opened his briefcase. A holographic display of Earth appeared, but it didn't show geography. It showed a Heat Map of Greed.
Certain cities—New York, London, Paris—were glowing with a violent, pulsating purple. These were the places where people were spending their Source-Shares the fastest. They were manifestating luxuries, ego-boosts, and petty revenges. Every time a "Shareholder" used their power to make their life easier, a "Glitch" appeared in the surrounding air.
"Look at the 'Market' you've created, Auditor," the Regulator's text scrolled. "A housewife in Ohio just 'spent' her retirement to make herself ten years younger. A teenager in Berlin just 'spent' his future to manifest a virtual girlfriend. They are eating the foundations of the house to warm the rooms."
"They didn't know the cost," Han Ling said, her voice filled with a Chancellor's fury. "The System never taught them about inflation!"
"IGNORANCE IS NOT A DEFENSE AGAINST BANKRUPTCY," the Regulator replied. "I AM INITIATING THE 'RECALL'. EVERY SOUL ON THIS PLANET WILL BE RESET TO A ZERO-BALANCE. THEIR MEMORIES, THEIR ACHIEVEMENTS, AND THEIR INDIVIDUALITY WILL BE RECLAIMED TO COVER THE DEFICIT."
"A reset?" Han Jue's blood ran cold. "You're going to turn them into the 'Grey Husks' again."
"NO," the Regulator corrected. "HUSKS HAVE MASS. I AM GOING TO TURN THEM INTO 'DATA-SCRAP'. THEY WILL NEVER HAVE EXISTED."
The Return to the Desk
Han Jue looked at his silver pen. He looked at his translucent hands. He realized the "Quiet Life" was the greatest debt he had ever accrued. By walking away from the Ledger, he had left the vault door open, and his own people had looted it until the walls were thin.
"Wait," Han Jue said, his voice regaining the sharp, metallic authority of the Sovereign. "There's a clause in the 'Universal Common Law'. If a Sovereign Entity can prove a Restructuring Plan that restores the Constant, the Regulator must grant a stay of execution."
The Regulator's text-line flickered. "A RESTRUCTURING? YOU HAVE BILLIONS OF INDEPENDENT SOVEREIGNS. YOU CANNOT CONTROL THEIR SPENDING WITHOUT A SYSTEM. AND YOU DELETED THE SYSTEM."
"I didn't delete the logic," Han Jue said. "I only deleted the Banker. I can build a De-Centralized Ledger—a 'Blockchain of Existence' where every 'Spend' must be validated by the collective. If the people want to use the Source, they have to prove the 'Value-Add' to the rest of the species."
"THAT REQUIRES A CENTRAL REGULATOR," the Bureau man countered. "SOMEONE TO HOLD THE KEYS. SOMEONE TO BE THE FINAL ARBITRATOR OF VALUE. AND YOU SWORE YOU WOULD NEVER BE THAT MAN AGAIN."
Han Jue looked at Han Ling. He looked at Elena. He looked at the boy in the alleyway from Chapter 35, who was likely at this very moment "spending" his soul to play a better game.
"I'm not going to be the Banker," Han Jue said, his eyes flashing with a dark, witty fire. "I'm going to be the IRS of the Universe. I'm not going to manage their money. I'm just going to Tax it."
The Formation of the Audit Squad
The Regulator closed his briefcase. "YOU HAVE 72 HOURS TO IMPLEMENT THE 'TOTAL REVENUE SERVICE'. IF THE DEFICIT DOES NOT DECREASE BY 15% IN THAT TIME, THE RECALL COMMENCES."
The grey man vanished, leaving behind a faint smell of ozone and a world that was still vibrating toward its own deletion.
"Garrick! Selas!" Han Jue yelled into the house.
The two former Sovereigns came running out. Garrick was covered in engine grease, and Selas was holding a half-eaten sandwich.
"The vacation's over, boys," Han Jue said, pulling his old charcoal suit out of a closet he hadn't opened in three years. "The world is suffering from hyper-inflation, and we're the only ones with the 'Audit' to fix the currency."
"I knew it," Garrick grinned, his mechanical eye whirring back to life for the first time in years. "I knew the peace was too cheap to be real. What's the plan, Boss?"
"We're going to every 'High-Spend' zone on the planet," Han Jue said, strapping the shattered-then-restored Auditor's Gavel—now more of a small, discreet Audit Stamp—to his waist. "We're going to find the people who are spending the Source on vanities, and we're going to issue Audit Penalties."
"And if they refuse to pay?" Selas asked, her silver hair sparking with the return of her storm-affinity.
"Then we'll Garnish their Reality," Han Jue said.
The First Tax Collection: Neo-New York
They didn't use a ship. Han Jue used a "Sovereign-Tax Transfer"—a method of travel that cost exactly zero Source because it was categorized as a "Business Expense."
They materialized in the center of Times Square. It was a nightmare of manifest desire. A man was walking a dinosaur made of liquid gold. A building was growing ivory wings. The air was thick with the scent of "Manifested Perfume," and the sky was a different color every ten seconds as people fought over the "Atmospheric Mood."
[Warning: Local Reality-Density at 14%]
[Warning: Collapse Imminent]
"Look at that idiot," Garrick pointed to a man sitting on a throne of solid diamonds in the middle of the street. The man was glowing with a deep purple light—he was a "High-Spender," using his share of the Source to create a kingdom in the middle of traffic.
Han Jue walked up to the throne. He didn't look like a god. He looked like an insurance adjuster who had seen too many accidents.
"Excuse me," Han Jue said, tapping his silver pen against the diamond throne. "I'm with the Universal Revenue Service. You're currently in violation of the 'Total Stability Act' of 2026."
The man on the throne looked down, his eyes glazed with the "Source-High." "Get lost, old man! I own this street! I bought it with my soul!"
"Actually," Han Jue said, his voice dropping to a terrifyingly calm whisper. "You only own a Fractional Interest in this street. And by manifesting this throne, you've increased the 'Environmental Entropy' of this block by 400%."
Han Jue pulled out his Audit Stamp.
"I'm issuing a Capital Gains Tax on your ego."
"You can't do that!" the man screamed, reaching out to manifest a sword.
"I just did," Han Jue said.
He struck the diamond throne with the Audit Stamp.
"AUDIT: RECOVERY!"
The diamonds didn't shatter; they turned back into Potential. The purple glow was sucked out of the man's body and returned to the ground beneath his feet. The liquid gold dinosaur vanished. The ivory wings on the building dissolved.
The man fell to the pavement, his clothes returning to rags, his face aging ten years in a second as the "Source-High" vanished.
"What did you do?!" he wailed.
"I returned your principal to the market," Han Jue said, looking at the boy. "You were over-leveraged. I just saved you from a total liquidation."
The Global Audit
For the next forty-eight hours, the "Audit Squad" moved across the planet like a cleaning crew in a trashed mansion.
Garrick "reclaimed" manifest machinery that was clogging the mana-veins of the industrial sectors. Selas "redacted" the chaotic weather systems people had created for their garden parties. Han Ling sat at the center of the Lunar Sanctum, coordinating the De-Centralized Ledger, ensuring that every time Han Jue "taxed" a spender, the stability of the surrounding area increased.
[Global Stability: 14% \rightarrow 32% \rightarrow 51%]
"It's working, Jue," Han Ling's voice echoed in his mind. "The 'Bubble' is shrinking. People are starting to realize that if they spend too much, 'The Auditor' will come and take it back."
"Fear is a great stabilizer," Han Jue muttered, wiping sweat from his brow in the middle of a "reclaimed" jungle in Paris. "But it's not enough. We're just treating the symptoms. The 'Regulator' is still coming for the whole planet."
The CEO's Final Trick
On the final hour of the 72-hour deadline, Han Jue stood in the Source—the "Boardroom" that was now just a quiet, white space in his own mind.
He wasn't alone.
The little girl—the CEO—was sitting there, but she was flickering. She wasn't a girl anymore; she was a Memory-Trace.
"You're very stubborn, Jue," the memory-trace said, her voice sounding like static. "I gave you the world, and you've spent the whole time trying to put it back in the box."
"The box is the only thing keeping the world from spilling into the Void, CEO," Han Jue said. "Why didn't you tell me about the Inflation? Why did you let them have the shares if you knew it would kill them?"
"Because," the CEO smiled, her eyes turning into black holes. "I wanted to see if you were really a Sovereign... or if you were just a Janitor with a Gavel."
The trace began to expand, turning into a massive, golden pillar of light.
"THE FINAL AUDIT IS NOT ABOUT THE SPENDING, HAN JUE. IT'S ABOUT THE 'OWNER'. TO SAVE THE WORLD FROM INFLATION, YOU HAVE TO DO THE ONE THING YOU'VE BEEN AVOIDING FOR THIRTY-SIX CHAPTERS."
"And what's that?"
"YOU HAVE TO GO PUBLIC WITH THE SOURCE... BEYOND EARTH."
Han Jue's eyes widened. The "Galactic Exchange" wasn't just a group of villains. It was a Secondary Market. By isolating Earth, Han Jue had created a "Closed Economy" that was bound to overheat. To stabilize the soul-currency of humanity, he had to connect them to the Rest of the Universe.
"You want me to open the Rifts again," Han Jue whispered.
"NOT RIFTS FOR MONSTERS, AUDITOR. RIFTS FOR 'TRADE'. THE GALAXY IS FULL OF DEBT-STRICKEN WORLDS THAT NEED YOUR 'AUDIT' LOGIC. IF YOU EXPORT YOUR STABILITY, YOU CAN OFFSET YOUR DOMESTIC INFLATION."
The Universal IPO
Han Jue stood in the center of District 7. The Regulator was there, his text-line glowing with a final, terminal white.
"TIME IS UP, AUDITOR. THE DEFICIT IS STILL ABOVE THE THRESHOLD. INITIATING RECALL."
"Wait," Han Jue said, holding up the Auditor's Stamp. "I'm filing an International Expansion Plan."
"EXPLAIN."
"Earth is no longer an Independent Entity," Han Jue declared, his voice carrying to every "Shareholder" on the planet. "We are officially a Multinational Conglomerate. I am opening the 'Galactic Gates'. We are going to offer 'Audit Services' to the thousands of defaulted worlds the Exchange left behind. We will take their 'Trash' and convert it into 'Stability' for our own world."
The Regulator's text froze. "YOU ARE... ATTEMPTING TO EXPORT YOUR BANKRUPTCY?"
"I'm attempting to Market the Void," Han Jue corrected.
The Auditor's Gavel, now integrated into Han Jue's soul, flared with a brilliance that outshone the sun.
"I AM HAN JUE. SOVEREIGN OF THE LEDGER. AND AS OF TODAY, THE UNIVERSE IS UNDER A NEW MANAGEMENT. AND OUR FIRST ORDER OF BUSINESS... IS AN ACQUISITION."
High above the Earth, a massive, obsidian gate began to form. It didn't lead to a dungeon. It led to the Citadel of the Galactic Exchange—which was currently sitting empty, waiting for someone with the "Audit" to claim the keys.
"Garrick, get the ship," Han Jue said, a dark, witty smile returning to his face. "We're going into the Interstellar M&A business."