America: The Cremator

A powerful white spotlight enveloped Suron and Hannah.

The scantily clad, tattooed men and women around them stopped their frantic writhing and focused their attention on Surong and Hannah, erupting in shrill whistles and shrill screams.

The deafening heavy metal music mingled with the cheers of the crowd, creating a suffocating sonic wave that pressed down on the two of them.

Surong turned his head and looked at Hannah with feigned affection, while reaching out and pulling her forcefully towards him, his palm directly against Hannah's smooth waist exposed to the air.

Hannah took the opportunity to stand on tiptoe, wrapped her arms around the back of Suron's neck, and pressed her lips, adorned with black lip gloss, directly onto Suron's lips.

The surrounding crowd erupted in even more enthusiastic cheers, and many people took the opportunity to kiss, or even start fighting on the spot. For a moment, the chaotic noise even drowned out the restless music playing in the arena.

Ten seconds later, the blinding spotlight finally moved to another corner of the dance floor, and the two immediately separated.

Hannah quickly lowered her head, breathing in the stale air, the blush on her cheeks barely concealed by the heavy foundation.

Surong wiped the lip gloss from the corner of his mouth, his gaze quickly sweeping over the crowd who had returned to the revelry. Making sure no one was paying attention to their corner, he patted Hannah on the shoulder: "Let's go, don't stop here."

The two of them turned sideways, forcefully pushing aside the men and women immersed in drugs and alcohol, and struggled through the crowded dance floor to reach a relatively dimly lit bar on one side.

Behind the bar, a bartender in a black vest was skillfully wiping glasses. Seeing new customers arrive, he draped a cloth over his shoulder, leaned forward, and raised his voice to ask, "What would you two like to drink?"

Sulong slammed fifty dollars on the table and shouted back, "Two Pimm's Cups."

The bartender took the money and started mixing drinks.

While he was mixing drinks, the two turned and leaned against the edge of the bar, their eyes quickly scanning the wildly twisting bodies on the dance floor, trying to find potential targets for drug trafficking.

However, apart from a few people selling spare enhancement items, I didn't see anyone who seemed to be trading "Dream".

Surong lowered his head slightly, bringing his voice close to Hannah's ear, and asked in a low voice amidst the booming bass, "Did you find anything?"

"I saw a group of addicts who were high, and a few who were obviously overdosed." Hannah shook her head, her tone somewhat helpless.

"Please enjoy your drinks, both of you."

Su Long reached out and grasped the glass the bartender pushed towards him, about to take a sip, when he suddenly remembered that the United States, under the influence of free will, had rampant use of enhancers.

In this bizarre and rampant America, where toxins are even more widespread, he put down his glass and looked at the bartender: "Is there... anything added to this drink?"

The bartender stopped wiping the bar and gave a professional smile. "Sir, if you need any extra toppings, there will be an additional charge."

As he spoke, he pulled out a worn-out plastic-sealed menu from under the bar and pushed it in front of Su Long.

In addition to the regular drinks, the menu also prominently displays the names and prices of various common fortifiers in bold.

Su Long's gaze swept quickly across the densely packed words, but he did not find the word "dream" or any words that matched its characteristics.

He frowned, pushed the menu back, and said with a hint of annoyance, "Damn it, I came all this way because I heard you had some exciting new stuff here."

The bartender put away the menu, his smile fading slightly. "If you're here for that new stuff, these two drinks you've ordered aren't enough. To experience that, you'll need to spend at least five hundred dollars here."

Without any hesitation, Su Long pulled a wad of crumpled twenty-dollar bills from the pocket of his ripped jeans and threw them on the bar: "Give me two good drinks."

The bartender looked at the stack of cash and a warm smile spread across his face. He deftly mixed the various colored liquors in the shaker and began to show off his skills.

A moment later, he pushed two brightly colored drinks in front of them and said in a low voice, "It's booth A12 at the very end of the corridor on the second floor. If you need 'Dream,' go to the people there and you can buy it."

Suron picked up his glass, gave Hannah a wink, and the two of them went up the narrow staircase next to the bar, which was covered with a dark red carpet.

The second floor was much quieter and dimmer than the first floor. A corridor covered with a dark red carpet extended to both sides, with semi-open booths arranged on both sides.

As the two walked down the corridor to the end and arrived near booth A12, they saw a disheveled man and woman get up and leave in a hurry.

Suron and Hannah walked to the booth and sat down on the dark leather sofa. Sitting opposite them was a slightly overweight Mexican man.

He was wearing a floral shirt with an exaggerated tropical plant pattern, the collar open, revealing thick hair on his chest, and a half-burnt cigarette dangling from his mouth.

Seeing Surong and Hannah sit down, the man raised an eyebrow, exhaled a puff of smoke, and asked with a smile, "New faces?"

"I heard from a friend that you can buy the coolest stuff in Seattle right now, so I came here specifically to find you." Su Long put his glass on the table and got straight to the point.

The Mexican-American man let out a short, snickering laugh: "Why should I sell to you new faces?"

"You two don't look like you've used any enhancement drugs. You haven't even tried those traditional stuff, and you want to go straight for 'Dream'?"

He put his legs off the coffee table, leaned forward, and his eyes became wary.

"What if you're FBI agents?"

Su Long chuckled, reached into the pocket of his hoodie, and pulled out a metal badge engraved with a wolf's head.

He placed the badge on the table and pushed it across the smooth glass surface towards the Mexican man: "This should be enough to prove my identity, right?"

The Mexican man's gaze fell on the wolf head badge, and his previously casual expression instantly froze.

He looked up in surprise and re-examined the blond-haired Asian youth in front of him.

He never imagined that these two guys dressed like street thugs were actually members of the Yurievich family.

He pushed the badge back to Sulong, nodding in acknowledgment, "I never expected you to be from the Yurievich family. That's enough; the Yurievich family is also an important partner of ours."

Upon hearing this, Suron immediately recalled Vladimir's mention of the family strife at the dinner party and quickly made a judgment:

The person most likely to represent the Yurievich family in establishing a cooperative relationship with these drug traffickers is Igor Yurievich, who went to Chicago to set up his own operation.

Unexpectedly, his influence had already deeply penetrated Seattle's underground drug network.

The Mexican man pulled a small black plastic box from the pocket of his floral shirt, took out two pills individually wrapped in clear plastic, placed them on the coffee table, and quoted an exorbitant price.

"One hundred and ten US dollars for two pills."

Su Long frowned, symbolically said "That's expensive," then took out the cash he had prepared beforehand and handed it over, before reaching out to take the enhancer from the table.

However, the Mexican man suddenly reached out and pressed his hand on the two pills.

"etc."