"This is the transformed bar?"
Xia Leng looked at the massive building covered in various exaggerated graffiti, its style reminiscent of different themes, and compared it with the map in his hand. Indeed, this was the location of the gas station.
After the world collapsed, everyone's values and cultures became twisted and filled with violent elements.
The predominant color schemes of these bloody graffiti released the suppressed rage of the old era's people without reservation. They also declared that anyone causing trouble in this bar would have their liver, brain, and blood turned into the paint used for these graffiti.
Xia Leng licked his cracked lips and walked over.
At the entrance, several modified pickup trucks loaded with heavy weapons were parked. The black skull logos painted on the front of each vehicle proved they belonged to the Komodo Mercenary Company.
Besides these, the black motorcycles Xia Leng had seen on the highway were also parked here, indicating that the bikers were resupplying at the bar.
"Hey, wait a moment."
As Xia Leng approached the entrance, two burly Komodo security personnel stopped him. Their intention was clear: they needed to search him for any explosives.
After all, mercenary companies are often rivals, and it's not uncommon for them to send some vagabonds with explosives for suicide attacks.
Xia Leng allowed them to search him.
Fortunately, the security personnel were decent and didn't pocket any valuable items from his backpack. Mercenary companies with a military-style management usually have strict regulations; excessive bullying of vagabonds can provoke violent uprisings.
There have been instances where an emerging mercenary company, relying on exploiting nearby vagabonds for resources, was eventually destroyed by a massive mob. These vagabonds, having been pushed to desperation, united and turned against the company, reducing it to rubble. Despite the company's weapons and members, they couldn't withstand the determined mob.
Since then, other mercenary companies have learned from this lesson and established their own management rules.
After the security personnel found nothing unusual, they let Xia Leng inside. Firearms and similar weapons are treated like currency in this era, so they didn't obstruct him.
"Nice outfit you've got there. How about selling it to me? I'll give you a good price."
One of the security guards, sporting a terrifying scar on his face, smiled and asked Xia Leng about his rare, new sweatshirt.
"This is my only piece of clothing. If I give it to you, I'll be freezing by nightfall," Xia Leng replied with a smile. He actually wouldn't mind selling it for extra money if it were possible.
He had tried to remove this suit woven from tendrils before, but it immediately melted into a pool of black liquid and quickly seeped into his arm.
If he performed such a strange act in front of them, he'd probably be shot on the spot…
Xia Leng then pushed open the door and walked into the bar.
As soon as he entered, he was met with a bizarre scene.
Deafening old-era music filled the entire hall, with colorful spotlights spinning wildly on the ceiling!
In the dance floor, scantily clad women danced provocatively under the cheers of the surrounding men. The air was filled with the stench of filth and alcohol, which was inhaled deeply with each breath.
With the enhancement from the Blacklight Virus, Xia Leng's senses were also heightened, making the light and sound pollution in this frenzied environment seem magnified several times…
He already began to regret coming here…
At this moment, Xia Leng felt something crawling into his ears. He reached in and found that it was the fine black tendrils, which formed a thin black membrane in front of his eardrums, effectively isolating most of the noise pollution!
This made Xia Leng feel much better, but he was also worried. These black tendrils seemed to have a form of self-awareness, instantly knowing what their host needed and responding quickly.
After all, this sudden ability came from the Blacklight Virus—a term that wasn't very comforting. He feared that one day it might take over and control his body, turning him into one of those zombie-like creatures.
However, he didn't realize that he wasn't becoming the virus's host but was becoming the virus itself…
Xia Leng clutched his backpack and cautiously squeezed through the crowded dance floor. In such a place, there were many petty thieves.
After a long "journey," he finally reached the somewhat quieter bar counter and found a spot to sit.
Behind the bar, there were only a few types of bottled liquor, and they were sold by the small cup at a high price.
In this era when everyone is struggling for food, who has extra resources for brewing alcohol? Every drink is a precious commodity, especially since the land, soaked by black rain, can no longer grow new crops, making alcoholic beverages extremely expensive.
"Hello, sir. Can I get you something? I can recommend something from here…"
As soon as Xia Leng sat down, a bartender approached him, eager to recommend drinks. His shiny new black sweatshirt suggested he might be someone of importance, attracting the bartender's attention.
Xia Leng didn't want to stand out. It seemed he'd need to wear a tattered beggar's outfit in crowded places in the future to avoid drawing attention.
"No need. Just fill this water bottle for me."
Xia Leng took out his empty two-liter water bottle and a bag full of low-grade crystals, handing both to the bartender.
The bartender, seeing that he only wanted water, immediately showed disdain. After all, only by selling alcohol could he earn a commission.
He opened the bag, glanced at the crystals, and put them in the cash box. He said coldly, "These are low-grade crystals, not very valuable. Our water comes from the headquarters, a hundred kilometers away, and is completely pure. So, this amount of money only covers half a bottle."
Half a bottle…
One liter of water wouldn't be enough for Xia Leng to reach his destination. Although the crystals were low-grade, they should be enough to buy a full bottle.
Xia Leng knew he was being ripped off, but it was normal for people to exploit prices on their own turf. He could choose to buy or not.
He then reluctantly pulled out a worn, yellowing magazine from his backpack and threw it in front of the bartender, watching as the bartender's eyes widened and nearly drooled in a comical manner.