Wizard: I Have a Cultivation System

Chapter 563: Chapter 20: Power

The deeper reason power vacuums form lies in the cost of governance.

Consider the costs of direct administration: surveillance, law enforcement, maintaining basic public services, resolving conflicts, and more.

When these costs exceed the potential gains from an area—like taxes, resources, and stable output—the authorities will naturally choose another method.

Decentralization, or rather, tacitly allowing a certain degree of autonomy.

Take, for instance, that omnipresent net in the New Realm, woven from imperceptible matter.

’Hmm, I’ll call it the Magic Net for now. After all, Carlos did explicitly mention the Magic Net Administration Bureau.’

’It did indeed record the data from my previous Casting, and it might have even tracked all my Energy Fluctuations on the flight to this city.’

’In theory, my "illegal Casting," as Carlos called it, should have been flagged long ago, and the authorities should have taken action.’

But in reality, they hadn’t.

’Why is that?’

It was precisely because of the cost of governance.

The resources required, risks incurred, and potential subsequent trouble involved in pursuing, identifying, judging, and imprisoning or otherwise dealing with a Third-Level Wizard would likely be astonishingly high.

Compared to any potential gains, the cost would be completely disproportionate, perhaps even a net loss.

And so, a more economical approach emerged.

Delegate the authority, allowing Carlos and Cheris, the one behind him, to handle such troubles by default.

They use relatively flexible methods to handle high-cost or special cases in place of the massive, bloated Imperial bureaucracy.

This neighborhood before him was the same. The Imperial government had abandoned direct rule because the gains were too low and the costs too high.

As a result, local gangs filled the vacuum, established their own effective order, and generated revenue by extorting protection fees and controlling resources.

Then, they remit this revenue upward through various legitimate and legal channels.

This allows the higher-ups to reap the greatest benefits at a relatively low cost of governance.

As for the people abandoned due to this cost-benefit analysis...

"Martha, this month’s cleaning fee is due."

Not far ahead of Murphy, in the doorway of a wooden shack, a thin woman was desperately shielding a sallow, emaciated little girl of about five or six behind her.

Two brutish-looking thugs stood before her.

The leader of the two had his arms crossed, his voice vicious. "You’re three days late. What, you trying to break the rules?"

The woman, Martha, was pale, her lips trembling. "Hans... j-just two more days... My husband didn’t come back last month, I... I really can’t scrape it together..."

"Can’t scrape it together?" The other thug sneered, stepping forward. He shoved the woman aside, his rough hand reaching for the trembling little girl behind her. "Simple then. You know the rules. If you can’t pay with money, you pay with something else! This little brat’s a bit scrawny, but send her over to Old Weasel to get cleaned up, and she can still earn some coin!"

"No! Don’t touch my child!" Martha shrieked, lunging forward recklessly and clinging to the thug’s arm. "The money... I’ll find a way! I’ll go to Old Weasel’s place. Tomorrow! I’ll definitely have it by tomorrow! I’m begging you! Don’t touch my Lina!"

"Get off!" The thug impatiently threw her off. Martha stumbled and fell, her forehead striking a nearby wooden stump. Blood immediately started to flow.

The little girl was so frightened she burst into tears and wailed.

Hans frowned, seemingly annoyed by the noise, but he didn’t stop his companion.

He looked down at the woman on the ground—forehead bleeding, eyes filled with despair—and spoke coldly, "Martha, rules are rules. If you were capable of earning enough, you wouldn’t be in debt now. Besides, if your daughter helps pay off the interest, won’t your life be much easier?"

He glanced at the crying little girl. "We’re taking her. Boss Iron Anvil’s rules can’t be broken."

A few neighbors peeked out from behind cracks in their doors or from their windows, but no one dared to make a sound, let alone step forward.

This was the order of this community.

Uncle Scar and Ron saw the scene as well, their faces etched with complicated expressions.

This was nothing new to them; they had likely even experienced many similar situations themselves.

A flash of pity crossed Ron’s eyes. He instinctively glanced at Murphy, his lips moving, but he didn’t dare to speak.

’We have no right to interfere with the master’s decision.’

’The master has his own reasons and purposes for his actions.’

’We are just guides, insignificant beings clinging to his shadow.’

’Speaking out of turn might anger him, or cause him unnecessary trouble.’

’Although deep down, we have a nagging feeling that this probably isn’t trouble for him at all.’

’But it’s not our place to overstep.’

Just as Hans impatiently motioned for his companion to grab the little girl, and Martha let out a heart-wrenching, desperate sob...

"Stop."

A calm voice rang out.

The two thugs, who were just about to make their move, froze and turned toward the sound.

When they saw who had spoken, the viciousness and impatience on their faces instantly froze, then quickly transformed into reverence.

The speaker was, of course, Murphy.

He had, at some point, walked closer. He wore all black, his dark eyes were like deep pools, and his face was devoid of expression.

Hans and his companion immediately took an instinctive half-step back.

In this world, one’s clothing often directly indicated status and position.

The residents here, even those with a little something to their name, inevitably had stained clothes.

But someone like Murphy—whose clothes were of obviously superior fabric, with a classic and unique style, and most importantly, were spotlessly clean, as if untouched by the mortal world—was definitely not someone who would normally appear in this kind of neighborhood.

That meant there were only two possibilities.

Either he was a big shot from the more respectable districts who happened to be passing through.

Or he was the kind of existence they least wanted to encounter.

An Extraordinary Being of unfathomable power.

The former was manageable. If pressed, they could knock him out from behind and probably get away with it.

The latter was an existence they could not afford to provoke under any circumstances.

"This... this lord," Hans forced his voice to sound respectful, squeezing out an ingratiating smile as he bowed slightly. "How may I be of service, my lord? I am Hans, one of Boss Iron Anvil’s men. If there’s anything you need..."

The other thug chimed in, his tone even more cautious than Hans’s. "Yes, yes, my lord, we work for Boss Iron Anvil. Are... are you here to see the boss?"

As they spoke, they carefully watched Murphy’s expression, trying to figure out the intentions of this suddenly-appeared great personage.

However, Murphy’s gaze didn’t linger on Hans’s face for even a second. Instead, it fell upon Martha, who was on the ground with a bleeding forehead and vacant eyes, and the little girl who had stopped crying in fright and was staring at him with wide, tear-filled eyes.

When the little girl, Lina, saw Murphy looking at her, her small body trembled violently. She instinctively shrank back into her mother’s arms, fresh tears welling up, but she didn’t dare to cry out loud, only letting out soft, stifled sobs.

It was as if this strangely dressed man who had appeared out of nowhere was far more frightening to her than the two vicious "uncles."

Martha saw Murphy, too.

Blood was still trickling from the wound on her forehead, running down her pale cheek, but she paid it no mind, simply using all her strength to hold her daughter tighter.

Her eyes didn’t light up with hope because Murphy had intervened; instead, they filled with an even deeper fear and wariness.

In this place, any sudden act of kindness could conceal a greater trap and a higher price.

’Why would a great personage who looks so clean be here?’

’And why would he meddle in the affairs of people like us?’

’She didn’t know, but based on everything she had seen and heard, it was unlikely to be anything good.’

’It might be something even more terrifying and hopeless than the two of them going to Old Weasel’s place together.’

Murphy took in the fear and despair in the mother and daughter’s eyes, his own expression remaining as placid as ever.

He turned his gaze back to the two uneasy thugs.

"Yes, I’m here to see your boss. Take me to him."

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