As soon as he entered the nightclub, the noisy and vulgar music flooded his ears, stimulating Chen Ke's eardrums with a brainwashing melody that looped incessantly, causing him to frown involuntarily.
Chen Ke didn't like places like this.
The modest nightclub had two dance floors, and in the DJ booth next to them, a Black DJ was scratching records—that was the source of the noise.
A bunch of men and women, dressed in counterfeit trendy clothes bought from second-hand shops, writhed on the dance floors.
In the pitch-black environment, colorful beams of blue, purple, yellow, and red weaved through each other like swords ripping through the black abyss, ceaselessly sweeping across the crowd.
The scene reminded Chen Ke of a country outhouse at night, where the toilet pit teemed with a pulsing mass of shit-yellow maggots.
"Chen?! Where the hell did you go??" Pihom suddenly looked around.
Chen Ke glanced at the corner of his eye at the "Dark Concealment 90%" prompt and laughed.
