Today's Sydney is no longer the backyard of the rich, and the scene of soldiers in the city seems to have transformed every building into a bunker. Even in such circumstances, life must go on.

Not only do poor people have to work 16 hours a day, but even if they go back, they can only huddle in their own small apartments, nibbling on cheap bread to get by, and the high electricity bills, rent, and taxes will not be reduced because of the war, so the war is not terrible at all, anyway, the place where they live is almost like hell.

It is at this time, and in this situation, people still need to have a pastime, the rich have their own Champs-Élysées, high-end wineries and yacht parties in the sea, and for the poor, there are also their own red light districts and bar streets.

In Sydney, this area is called the "Transit Station", there are no railroad tracks in the Transit Station, there is no means of transportation, it is just a transit point from the earth to hell, giving all the poor people a place to breathe and a chance.

The transfer station covers an area about the size of 3 football fields, and was formerly a slum, all of which were built with tin houses, and the outside is wrapped in thick walls to prevent the dirty scene from being seen by the rich outside and affecting the city's appearance.

There are a large number of low-level merchants and criminals living in the transit station for a long time, who sell contraband, engage in gambling, skin and meat trade, and even human trafficking.

The police and sheriffs will not manage this area, but just control the 4 gates in this area, and all goods entering and leaving the transit station will be forced to collect 30% of the tax, even if they sell themselves to others as slaves, they must pay 30% of the money to these checkpoints.

It is precisely this kind of heavy taxation that makes the management of people in and out less strict, and the officials who manage the transit station also make a lot of money, which is equivalent to squeezing the last drop of oil and water out of these poor people.

Even so, the transit station is also a place where everyone will definitely come when they have spare money for activities.

And through internal channels, Joan of Arc also brought Kunshen to this transit station unconsciously. In order to hide his eyes, Kun's long white hair is held high, and he wears ripped jeans, a loose sweatshirt, a hood, and a dirty dust on his face, like a standard tramp look.

Joan of Arc also wrapped her metal body in a loose hip-hop suit, and all the big weapons were the same as the ones she didn't bring.

Looking at the smoky transit station with people coming and going in front of him, Kun was eye-opening again.

Especially the women who stood in front of the glass window and waved to him charmingly, all dressed up so weirdly, and some even wore underwear made of LED tubes, feeling like they were afraid that others would not find them.

"There's so much primal desire here, what kind of place is this?" Kun walked to the window like a curious baby.

"Trust me, if you don't want to be killed by AIDS, stay away from that window. It's called a transit station, a place where poor humans find happiness. Joan of Arc acts as Kun's tour guide.

"What are they doing?" Kun saw a few junkies in the back alleys on the corner, happy to themselves.

"Suicide." Joan of Arc was straight to the point.

"Why buy this elixir that hurts yourself? What they need more should be food and water. "Kun has learned what it is.

"Because of food and water, you can't give them the illusion that they are happy, but medicine can, you have to know that man is an animal who likes to escape from reality, and when he knows that he can't change his environment, the way to get happiness is to change his thinking, to get short-term happiness through medicine, to escape from the reality that can't be changed, in a sense, the whole transit station is providing such consumer goods, and it is a paradise for the poor." Joan of Arc spoke eloquently.

"If evasion worked, the earth wouldn't be like this. They were self-defeating, but I seem to be able to understand it. Looking at the child shaking the broken bowl to himself, Kun understood the helplessness in it.

"Let's save the emotional catharsis of compassion, we need to solve an important problem now." Joan of Arc had already brought Kun to the door of the largest bar in the transit station, "How do I get on the big ship of the Ancient Super Divine Soldier?" ”

"Is it hard?" Kun doesn't understand, why do you need other people's help when you go to a place? Walk over with your feet, wouldn't it be fine?

"Because we need to be low-key, low-key, and quietly appear in front of the stars, scare him, and stop him from activating that damn deep-sea greedy wolf." Joan of Arc explained.

"Actually, my ability can cover a radius of up to 10 kilometers, and I can kill them on the shore." Kun disagreed.

"But you didn't take into account that they most likely used an anti-ability coating, and if you didn't kill them in the first place, it would make the stars aware of it, and then when he activated, it would still be over." Joan of Arc continued to argue.

"I think what you said makes sense, but I still think you're deliberately trying to pull my mind." Kun frowned.

"Don't worry, I won't fool you, please taste a little magic made by humans with water." Joan of Arc smiled and pulled Kun inside.

The bar is called "The Lounge", a 3-storey building with a decadent post-industrial façade made of tin sheets, but an overcrowded interior where all the vicious guys have a place to be.

A girl walked in with a man whose face he couldn't see clearly, and it was really a bit eye-catching, and everyone instinctively looked over.

"You don't have to look at anyone, your big eyes will make them addicted, I'll take you to taste the magic of water." Zhendra walked straight to the bar.

"Wine is not magic, it's just a liquid fermented by grains and plants, which can paralyze the nerves and produce hallucinations, but it has no effect on me." Kun is not a complete novice either.

"Try this, 'No Home Tonight.'" Joan of Arc orders a cocktail for Kun.

Kun took a sip of the wine glass, and couldn't help but light up in the eyes.

"How special is this? Sweet with bitterness, just like ......" Kun depicts the taste, and is short of words for a while.

"It's like the taste of love, it's said to be the magic of wine." Joan of Arc ordered a glass of milk, after all, she could only taste sweetness.

Before the two of them could see the bottom of their cups, a large man with half of his head already implanted with a mechanical prosthesis walked over.

"Friend, this is a members-only bar, you shouldn't come in." The big man said as he shook the muscles in his chest.

"Is there a discount for applying for a card now?" Joan of Arc didn't reply, and threw a bank crystal card on the bar, and the bartender felt bad and silently retreated.

"You're not locals, you're not welcome here, stay and leave now." Dahan said, already reaching for the crystal card on the table.

Suddenly, Joan of Arc took a knife from the dining table, and nailed through the big man's palm and the bar counter, and the big man screamed like a pig, and the whole bar stood up, and Joan of Arc smiled and slapped the big man's side face.

"Honesty in business, I give money, but you don't sell me things, is it reasonable? You accept the card, you leave the hand, and we will clear it twice. ”

"Who is so bold as to dare to make trouble in my land?" In the corner of the bar, in the only VIP seat, a man in a sequined suit spoke.

"Do you really want to know who I am?" Joan of Arc pulled down her hood.