HLM -Chapter 820 Old Wang Buys a Pumpkin

Indeed, Wang Bo was in high spirits, though it had little to do with the bar’s interior design or decor. He knew the feeling came from the “Heart of the Bar.”

The Heart of the Bar owned by the Flaming Mountain Bar was Level 2 — already quite powerful.

Of course, that wasn’t something he could say out loud. He merely nodded lightly and praised, “Good job.”

It wasn’t long after lunch, yet the bar was still fairly crowded. Most of the patrons were tourists, chatting, drinking, and soaking up the lively atmosphere. When they saw Reddy and the other three enter, a few people clapped and whistled. A girl with heavy makeup shouted, “Hey handsome, sing something wild! Let’s go crazy!”

Reddy grinned, high-fived a few people nearby, and replied with a laugh, “According to the rules — when night falls, blood burns! But right now? Let’s all take a break!”

“Cool!”

With Wang Bo in tow, they pushed open the massive, metallic-looking vault door. It had an assisted mechanism, yet still took effort to move. Without that system, pushing a door weighing several tons would’ve been impossible.

The Mad Stone Cavern on the basement floor was the bar’s signature feature. It had excellent soundproofing and a primitive, raw decor — perfect for the wild nights that started after 8 PM. Right now, it was closed. The only movement came from slowly rotating strobe lights, their flickering glow making faces appear eerily distorted.

Ryan smiled, “It’s so quiet down here… feels strange.”

Wang Bo had only come down once before — during the opening night. The noise back then had been deafening, unbearable to him. Since then, he’d never returned. Now that he was here again, the quiet atmosphere felt surprisingly nice.

The four climbed onto the central stage — an octagonal iron cage. To Wang Bo, it didn’t look like a bar stage at all, more like a mixed martial arts cage. Of course, the cage was for safety — it protected Reddy’s band. Under the influence of the Heart of the Bar, the audience could get a little too wild, sometimes even violent.

Among the four, Reddy was the lead singer and rhythm guitarist, Ryan was the leader and lead guitarist, Tutu, the Māori man covered in tattoos, played drums, and the handsome German, Bardman Fields, was on bass. Everyone had their role.

“Ready?” Reddy turned to Wang Bo.

Wang Bo smiled, “Shouldn’t I be the one asking that? Alright, let’s hear it!”

A bright, piercing guitar note rang out, instantly electrifying. Wang Bo couldn’t help but perk up. Then came the pounding, deep drumbeats — fast and varied. The bassist and the two guitarists carried the prelude with powerful rhythm.

The intro wasn’t long, but the rhythm was infectious. Wang Bo found himself tapping along to the beat.

Soon, Reddy’s voice came in:

“Prometheus stole the flame of the gods,
The emperor of heaven’s wrath followed his name…”

Even from the prelude, Wang Bo had sensed something good. Once the vocals began, he was hooked. Reddy was right — their songs really were impressive.

When the song ended, Wang Bo stood up, clapping enthusiastically. “I have to make a record for you guys! Are we about to see the best pop band in all of New Zealand born in Sunset Town?”

Reddy laughed, “Our ambitions aren’t that small, mate! Why not dream bigger — best in the Southern Hemisphere, maybe?”

Tutu and Bardman bumped fists. Tutu’s tattooed face lit up with joy. “The only thing that matters is having fun, my brothers! Who cares how famous we are — happy, that’s what counts!”

They went on to perform five more songs — six in total. Wang Bo still thought the first one was the best, though the rest were good too.

After the performance, as they stepped off the stage, Wang Bo asked eagerly, “What’s the name of that first song? I’m setting up a recording studio and pressing room right away. When you finish your first album, I expect the very first copy!”

Ryan chuckled, “You planning to put it in the town’s museum?”

Wang Bo thought for a moment, then said seriously, “Why not? We should have a town museum. We already have a promising boxer, and one of New Zealand’s best contemporary mystery writers. If we also give rise to a pop band — that’d be amazing!”

“Yeah! I’ll be waiting for that day,” said Reddy.

That evening over dinner, Wang Bo excitedly told Eva all about it. She, with her sharper musical sense, said that when they recorded the album, she had to be there to listen.

Dale, however, was focused on something else entirely. “Teacher, teacher! Halloween is coming! What kind of pumpkin should we carve this year?”

Last Halloween, Wang Bo had offered up his castle for the celebration. This year, he didn’t plan to — there were plenty of families in town now. Let everyone organize their own fun.

Of course, he’d still have to accompany Dale for her activities.

The most common Halloween decoration was the jack-o’-lantern. The supermarkets sold them, but in the countryside, no one bought them — they made their own. It was a perfect DIY project to spark kids’ creativity.

But to carve a pumpkin, you first needed one. So Wang Bo went to New World Supermarket.

In other parts of New Zealand, New World was known as an upscale chain with a wide variety of goods and a pleasant environment. But in Sunset Town, it had become more of a produce and grocery market.

The department store also sold fruits and vegetables, but that wasn’t its main focus. Wang Bo wanted to give New World a chance to stay in business, so it specialized in goods the department store didn’t stock.

Thanks to Highway 8 bringing steady traffic and the town’s growing population, the supermarket was doing decently — enough to stay afloat.

Wang Bo took Dale to pick out a pumpkin. The bearded store manager was arranging the shelves when he spotted them. Smirking, he said teasingly, “Well, if it isn’t our all-powerful Mayor Wang! Here to inspect the supermarket?”

Seeing his mocking grin, Wang Bo replied with a smile, “You probably guessed it — I’m here to buy a pumpkin. But if you’re not happy to see me, I can always have the department store start selling vegetables too.”

At that, the manager’s confidence faltered. He quickly said, “No, no, my friend! We’re glad to have you. You’re here for a pumpkin? Come with me — I’ve got a big one waiting for you!”

He wasn’t exaggerating. There really was a huge pumpkin in the store — about a meter and a half in diameter and over half a meter tall. Wang Bo stared at it, dumbfounded. “Did you feed it urea or something? How’d it get so huge?”

This type of pumpkin was a special variety bred for decoration — it could grow massive but tasted awful.

Dale, who knew more about such things, corrected him, “Teacher, that’s not a big pumpkin. A real giant pumpkin can weigh almost a ton!”