Milton Minns transmigrated into a bizarre little nation, stationed at a remote border checkpoint.

To the north lies Mexico.

To the south—civil war factions blowing each other’s brains out.

Luckily, Milton has a unique ability: he can see contraband hidden in passing vehicles. He can confiscate illicit goods, earn points, and redeem rewards.

Only with the strongest firepower can he make people pay their taxes obediently.

“At my checkpoint, even the President has to pay taxes.”

“Only death and taxes are eternal!”

…

“Godfather, per your orders, the Fankang Gang was completely eliminated yesterday. Don’t worry, we made sure they paid their taxes in full before execution.”

“The Sinaloa Cartel has surrendered. Joaquín Guzmán says he’s willing to pay all back taxes and late fees.”

“There’s public speculation about your intent to run for Congress. Current polling shows your support has passed 51%.”

“The ruling party urges you to exercise restraint—and not take power by force.”

“This month’s confiscated contraband…”

Milton raised his hand and cut off the report:

“Enough. How many times must I say it? These armored vehicles, this heavy firepower—it’s all just a tool to collect taxes. That’s it.”

“I’m a tax officer, not a Godfather.”

“Remember: Taxation only exists within bullet range.”

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