Wasteland Bar

"This is the converted bar?"

Xia Leng looked at the enormous building by the roadside, its walls covered in exaggerated graffiti styles, then compared it with the map in his hand. The gas station was definitely in the right place.

After the world collapsed, everyone's values, culture, and everything else had been twisted into something saturated with violence.

The blood-soaked colors of the graffiti unleashed the brutal urges people in the old world had kept suppressed, without holding anything back. They also served as a warning: anyone who caused trouble in this bar would have their blood and guts turned into paint for the walls.

Xia Leng licked his cracked lips and walked over.

Several modified pickup trucks were parked at the entrance, their rear beds loaded with heavy weapons. The black skulls painted on their hoods proved that they belonged to the Komodo Mercenary Company.

The black motorcycles he'd seen on the highway earlier were parked there too. It seemed the bikers were inside the bar restocking as well.

"Hey, hold on."

When Xia Leng reached the entrance, two burly Komodo security guards stopped him from going in. Their intention was obvious: they wanted to search him for explosives.

After all, almost every mercenary company was at odds with the others. It was common for them to send refugees strapped with explosives to carry out occasional suicide attacks.

So Xia Leng let them search him.

Fortunately, the two guards were reasonably professional. While searching his backpack, they didn't deliberately pocket any valuable items for themselves.

Mercenary companies with military-style management generally enforced their rules strictly. If they bullied the refugees too blatantly, they would face attacks from mobs of desperate people with nowhere left to turn.

There had been a case like that before. An up-and-coming mercenary company had relied on exploiting the refugees in the surrounding area to build up its resources.

Over time, those refugees had been driven to become a mob. They had no way out anyway, so they might as well take everyone down with them.

Then, one night, tens of thousands of people armed with crude weapons gathered together and reduced the mercenary company, which should have had a bright future, to ruins.

The company had plenty of weapons and even members who were Baptized Ones, but it still couldn't hold off the enormous mob, whose members were prepared to die.

After that, the other mercenary companies learned from its mistakes and began establishing rules of their own.

The two guards finished checking him and found nothing suspicious, so they let Xia Leng in. Weapons like handguns were a form of currency in this age, so they didn't stop him for carrying one.

"That's a pretty nice shirt. How about selling it to me? I'll give you a good price."

One of the guards, a man with a terrifying knife scar at the corner of his eye, smiled at Xia Leng and gestured toward his unusually new sweatshirt.

"It's the only one I've got. If I give it to you, I'll be freezing at night."

Xia Leng smiled too. If he could've taken it off and sold it, why wouldn't he have made a little extra money?

He had tried to remove the clothes woven from his own tendrils, but the moment they left his body, they melted into a pool of black liquid and quickly seeped into his arm.

If he'd done something that bizarre in front of them, they probably would've shot him dead on the spot...

Then Xia Leng pushed open the door and entered the bar.

The moment he stepped inside, a surreal scene unfolded before his eyes.

Deafening old-world songs filled the entire hall, while spotlights in every color spun wildly across the ceiling!

In the dance area, scantily clad women performed seductive dances as the men around them whooped and egged them on.

The air reeked of sweat and alcohol, the stench flooding his lungs with every breath.

The Blacklight Virus had enhanced Xia Leng, sharpening all his senses as well. In this frenzied environment, the light and noise pollution felt several times more intense to him...

He was already starting to regret coming in...

Just then, Xia Leng felt something slip into his ear. He probed with a finger and found tiny black tendrils forming a thin membrane in front of his eardrum, effectively blocking most of the noise!

That made him feel a lot better, but it also left him concerned. The black tendrils on his body seemed almost self-aware. They could instantly sense what their host needed and respond accordingly.

After all, this sudden ability had come from the Blacklight Virus. Virus... It wasn't exactly a comforting word. He was afraid that one day it might take over and control his body, turning him into a mindless walking corpse like the living dead.

What he didn't know was that he hadn't become a host to the virus. He had become the virus itself...

Xia Leng gripped his backpack tightly and warily squeezed through the packed dance floor. There were plenty of people here who liked to pick pockets.

After a long trek through the crowd, he finally reached the quieter bar counter and found a seat.

On the shelves behind the counter, he saw a few bottles of different kinds of liquor. They were sold by the glass, and none came cheap.

After all, in an age when no one had enough to eat, who had grain to spare for brewing? Every drink was one less, and the soil, soaked by the Black Rain, could no longer grow new crops. That was why alcoholic drinks were so expensive.

"Hello, sir. What can I get you? I'd recommend this one..."

As soon as Xia Leng sat down, a bartender came over eagerly to recommend a drink. Perhaps the bright, brand-new black sweatshirt he wore made him look like someone with a bit of status, which had caught the bartender's attention.

Xia Leng hadn't meant to draw attention to himself. It looked like next time he went somewhere crowded, he'd have to get the tendrils to make him a ragged beggar's outfit in advance. That way, people wouldn't be so quick to notice him.

"No need. Just fill this canteen for me."

Xia Leng took out his empty two-liter canteen and handed it to the bartender along with a bag full of low-grade crystals.

When the bartender saw that he only wanted water, his expression turned disdainful. After all, he only got a commission when he sold liquor.

He opened the bag and rummaged through it casually, then put it in the cash box behind him. "These are all low-grade crystals. They aren't worth much. The water here is pure and uncontaminated, shipped from our headquarters a hundred kilometers away. This will only cover half a canteen."

Half a canteen...

A liter wasn't enough to get Xia Leng through the rest of his journey. And although the crystals in the bag were all low-grade, they were more than enough to buy a full canteen of water.

Xia Leng knew he was being ripped off, but the bartender was entitled to charge whatever he wanted on his own turf. Take it or leave it.

Then he reluctantly pulled the yellowed, dog-eared magazine from his backpack and tossed it in front of the bartender, watching as the man's eyes widened and he nearly drooled.