Tower of Overturn

It was merely morning time... Although it was a Saturday morning, the nightclub was already packed.

Russell saw countless masked men and women, each sitting on different sofas, drinking.

Above their heads were blue and red lights that could cause photosensitive epilepsy, and in the middle was a Cat Woman with a high ponytail, clearly a blue cat. On her right side was full of tattoos, and on the other side was a metal iron hand that was noticeably larger than her right hand.

— It was a Rocket Hand MK3 model, characterized by its ability to fire a hook, with a load capacity of up to two hundred kilograms. Apart from that, it had no advantages—it wasn't convenient and secure to grasp, nor could it finely control the fingers.

Russell's professional ethos made him unconsciously start analyzing the models of prosthetic bodies he saw.

That was an old model from more than a decade ago. Not the style of Chongguang Island but the rough and durable style of Mental Heavy Industry.

If it were a prosthetic body produced by Chongguang Island, it definitely wouldn't last ten years, probably just three before it needed replacing. Not because they couldn't make them more durable...mainly because if the prosthetic bodies broke too slowly, no one would buy new models, and people would get used to the old ones.

Prosthetic bodies breaking down and becoming less sensitive was also an excuse for people to buy the latest models to show off to colleagues and classmates. But if one didn't have money, they'd have to go to a repair shop to replace parts; with some patching up, it could still last a few more years.

So, how to subtly reduce the durability of their own designed prosthetic bodies and strive not to allow users to crack their lifespan by micro-modifications and flashing is also a very complex science.

Mental Heavy Industry wasn't primarily in the business of prosthetic bodies, so they didn't need to consider issues of renovation. All these things were leftovers from their engineering robots.

Based on the philosophy that "what works on robots should also work on humans," they emphasized a large quantity, foolproof, brute and rough design, with plenty of material given, but the design of anti-rejection reactions and convenience was much worse.

And this Cat Woman who used the "big and rough type" of prosthetic body was no bulkier than Russell, rather she seemed thinner. Her breast area clearly lacked material, revealing protruding ribs from her exposed lower chest and waist.

The band behind her was even more peculiar—the drummer's horn was broken, and there were brands on his shoulders; the bass player was a thin man with scales, his mouth sewn shut with black thread, and the guitar player was a pretty androgynous fox with bright golden long hair and a fluffy tail.

When Russell entered, the Cat Woman was belting out a loud, long sound in anger.

The lights above flashed violently because of this, and the entire nightclub's floor seemed to vibrate. Russell distinctly felt his heart buzzing.

Only when Russell could clearly see the band on stage did the Cat Woman finish her performance.

Her non-prosthetic right hand held up the microphone stand high, and the masked crowd below screamed enthusiastically.

It wasn't a microphone, but the entire microphone stand—only when she exerted her strength did Russell realize her slender right arm, from shoulder to forearm, was filled with muscles. There was a very strong sense of power.

The people raised their glasses high, trying to sprinkle their drinks on the stage toward the Cat Woman. She didn't dodge or flinch, becoming drenched instantly and emanating a strong scent of alcohol.

She revealed a proud laughter on her face, like holding up a sword, and slowly pointed the microphone stand toward the people.

The pointed-at crowd screamed and cheered as a result.

It was only then that Russell realized something.

...This place wasn't a nightclub; it was a completely underground bar!

And besides himself.

Russell judged from the loudness and tone of the scream that the customers present were mostly women of various ages.

— Was his initial concern somewhat redundant?

His expression suddenly became very subtle.

Come to think of it, it was indeed so.

Bee species follow a matriarchal society, and he should have thought of this when he first heard the name "Hive"...

"Yo."

At that moment, the two girls at the door came over.

The Bear-Ear Girl slapped Russell's shoulder broadly, "Why the hurry? I'm not a carnivorous animal like wolves or leopards."

Russell was stunned for a moment before quickly realizing the hidden meaning in her words:

Was she implying that Russell was intentionally running away from her, trying to provoke her predatory desire?

"Hm?"

The Bear-Ear Girl appeared quite clever.

Seeing Russell's hesitant look, she guessed something: "You didn't mistake the door, did you? Or are you... a newbie? Is this your first time at such a place?"

"... There aren't any paid services here."

Russell argued, "No one explained to me what these masks are for."

Hearing Russell's voice, the Bear-Ear Girl gave a light exclamation.

Though he couldn't see her gaze, Russell clearly felt her interest peaking.

"You're wearing a smile mask; of course, they shouldn't charge you... rather, they should be paying you."

She gripped Russell's shoulder harder, her voice becoming deeper and huskier: "Don't you understand? Let sister teach you...

"You see those staff around? Ask them for a hand tag, then find an empty room and swipe to open the door."

Wait a minute.

What kind of nightclub is this...

Russell sensed something was amiss.

He tried to break free from the grip and whispered, "What does this mask actually mean... Are there no staff here?"

"'Happy person lives for the unhappy,' huh, an old joke from over a decade ago. In this kind of place, those wearing a crying mask are the paying customers; those with a smile mask... aside from the fixed staff, the rest are in a good mood, here to earn some extra money."

The seemingly high-school aged girl, however, had a very seasoned air about her.

She looked at Russell and whispered, "Don't even think about going back to change masks. At 'Hive,' only female guests can wear a crying mask... you have to pay a membership fee to get in. Otherwise, Mr. Bongbong at the door would have kicked you out."

...So, he could only wear the smile mask? Otherwise, he couldn't even get in?

No wonder the Inferior hadn't mentioned these things...

Russell thought, his expression slightly complicated — was that why the Inferior didn't want to come in, but instead parked the car at the door?

"How about it, want to join us for a drink? Eight hundred yuan for an hour. We'll get a private room, have some drinks and sing quietly... much quieter than the main hall here."

"Hey... that doesn't seem quite right."

Hiding behind the Bear-Ear Girl, the Lizard Girl gently tugged at the Bear-Ear Girl's clothing hem.

She whispered, "Maybe he just took a wrong turn, he doesn't even know what the mask means. Let's find someone else..."

"Probably just a young brother who's just become an adult, never let out by his family before."

The hand that was pressing on Russell's shoulder still hadn't let go, the Bear-Ear Girl shrugged indifferently, "He looks green now, which is very rare. Once he gets used to it later, it will be a different experience... one person, two kinds of experience. Isn't that good?"

"I actually have plans!"

Russell saw the situation getting worse, and hurriedly explained, "A friend asked to meet me here, so—"

"Where's your friend then?"

"I don't know, maybe in a private room..."

When Russell had entered earlier, his gaze had swept around.

Glass's hair color was quite distinctive, but he hadn't seen her in the hall at all. So, she must have entered one of the private rooms.

She was always surrounded by bodyguards in black, so Russell's initial worries were probably unfounded since she was most likely here as a customer...

"Tsk."

The Bear-Ear Girl clicked her tongue regretfully and released the hand that had clamped Russell's shoulder.

Though her face couldn't be seen, her attitude clearly conveyed reluctance.

"You'll come again, won't you?"

She asked somewhat unwillingly, "Next time come and keep me company, I'll give you one thousand an hour."

"Definitely next time, definitely next time..."

Russell said softly, quickly making his way to a corner.

—Not necessarily next time!

He added firmly and fiercely in his mind.

He would never come here again, this place was too terrifying...

Russell walked somewhat bewilderedly into the corner.

This place resembled more of a bar's counter than the nightclub's front desk. Each of the four corners had a counter, each with a bartender shaking a shaker while wearing a smile mask.

The four bartenders ranged from a seasoned gentleman to a well-behaved boy, a curly-haired, fashionable young man, and a cute girl. One could say it was quite a diverse selection.

The closest to Russell was the seasoned gentleman.

He looked at Russell, his voice deep and rich, "What would you like to drink, boy? Or perhaps... a wristband?"

"I'm looking for someone, may I?"

Russell asked in a soft voice.

He was somewhat cautious because he wasn't sure if this question would break any rules.

But the seasoned bartender seemed accustomed to it.

"There are always young people disoriented, following girls with sad face masks in. But we can't reveal the guests' information."

Underneath the smiling mask, a smooth, reassuring voice flowed.

It felt like a warm coffee cocktail.

"But if you know her name and room number, there isn't a reason I can't let you in."

The bartender said in a soothing tone, "How about a drink? Now that you're here, you might as well have one. Make it worthwhile."

How could I possibly know that...

Russell grimaced, feeling like his investigation had hit a standstill right from the start.

But just then, he spotted a handwritten trace emerging on a corner of the giant touchscreen used for ordering drinks, visible only to him:

[Glass has registered under the pseudonym 'Blue Song Sparrow', room K128]

Russell's pupils slightly constricted, revealing vertical pupils.

Keeping his face unchanged, he looked up searching for cameras — sure enough, right above their heads, a camera was blinking a red light.

Less than a second after making eye contact with Russell, the camera moved up and down slightly, as if nodding.

—So, that's how it is!

This was the support Cui Que had mentioned!

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