The Evil Tavern was quiet, with no one else inside. There were no barriers in this tavern, incapable of blocking the intense destructive cosmic rays. Anyone who dared linger here long-term had to have hide as tough as old leather.
"Right away, honored guest."
A gaunt man with a head of tangled, matted hair shuffled over tremblingly, carrying a jug of wine in his hands.
He wore tattered clothing—a damaged Eonic artifact. Much of his skin was exposed, visibly pale and rotten from cosmic-ray exposure, covered in blisters and looking utterly hideous, with several savage blood-red marks running across it.
The black-and-white pair of burly men jumped at the sight of the proprietor. The white-clad man glared and said, "Your Eonic God body is ruined to this extent, and you're still doing business? Aren't you afraid of scaring your customers to death?"
The proprietor's voice trembled as he said miserably, "I have no choice. I have to scrape out a living and earn some money. Without Ink Starcloud Sacrifices, my cultivation will regress. Outside this destruction district, I have no way to survive."
The white-clad man sneered. "Looks like you used to commit plenty of crimes, kid!"
"Cut the crap. Bring the wine." The black-clad man was colder, his voice icy.
"Yes, honored guests. Please."
The proprietor hurriedly set the wine on their table. His back was bent and his movements slow, but he did his best.
"Get lost. You stink!" The white-clad man was growing impatient too.
Frowning, the black-clad man picked up the jug on the table and took a sip. His expression changed abruptly. He swung the jug and smashed it straight into the proprietor's forehead, cursing at the same time, "What kind of garbage wine is this? It tastes awful!"
Clang!
The proprietor was smashed straight