America: Starting from collecting corpses, leveling up to godhood

Half an hour later, the massive Ford E-450 roared into the Vernon industrial area.

Huge neon signs flashed cheap red light in the twilight, accompanied by deafening hip-hop music and the hissing of pneumatic wrenches.

Chen Ming slammed on the brakes and stopped the car in front of the toll booth at the entrance.

Through the car window, the entire repair shop looked like a giant mechanical arena.

At the workstation on the left, several large Latino men with full-back tattoos were surrounding a Chevrolet that had been dismantled down to its frame. With the sound of the hydraulic pump being tested, the front of the car bounced wildly up and down.

On the right is a young black man with dreadlocks, who is hoisting his Honda onto a lift and sweating profusely as he disassembles the exhaust pipe.

In the United States, especially in California where car culture runs deep, these self-service auto repair shops are as common as convenience stores.

Californians treat cars like their lives depend on them, and from the bouncy cars of East Los Angeles to the supercars of Malibu, they all undergo extensive modifications.

On the other hand, the staggering labor costs in the United States have also contributed to the prosperity of these shops—the hourly labor fees of over $150 at regular auto repair shops are enough to make most working-class people faint...

"Is this your first time here?"

Inside the toll booth, a plump middle-aged woman chewing gum asked without looking up.

"Yeah, I'm going to build this big thing myself."

Chen Ming handed over a hundred-yuan bill.

"It's $30 per hour, including the venue and basic equipment rental. The lift is an extra $10... The waste oil has to be poured into the purple bucket. If I find you pouring it down the drain, I'll smash your head with a wrench."

The older woman skillfully gave Chen Ming change and casually tossed him a magnetic card.

"Workstation number 4 has a high-pressure water gun and industrial degreaser, but I bet you'll need to buy two extra cans—judging by the condition of this truck, were you just pulled out of a swamp?"

"More or less." Chen Ming smiled and took the card.

The vehicle slowly drove in and stopped at workstation number 4, which has a drainage grille.

Sofia got out of the car and was choked by the strong smell of burning gasoline, causing her to cough repeatedly.

"I just don't understand, Chen."

"You're not short of money right now, so why not find a reputable repair shop? Spend a few hundred dollars, have coffee in the lounge, and they'll take care of everything for you."

"Several hundred dollars? Are you dreaming?"

As Chen Ming carried two buckets of powerful degreaser out of the carriage, he put on a heavy rubber apron and goggles.

"Labor costs in California are higher than gold. A mechanic at a reputable auto shop can earn $150 an hour just to tighten a single screw... It would take at least two skilled workers a whole day to thoroughly clean the oil stains off this car."

"It would cost at least two thousand dollars, but here I only need to pay a $60 venue fee, and the rest is just physical labor—which is exactly what I have in abundance."

"If those guys who went bankrupt because they couldn't afford to repair their cars knew you could do this kind of math, they'd definitely elect you as their finance minister."

Sofia shrugged.

"Do you need my help?"

"This kind of dirty work is not suitable for women." Chen Ming pulled down his goggles.

It wasn't that Chen Ming was particularly gentlemanly; he simply didn't like women touching his car—in his past life, a good friend of his lent his new car to his girlfriend for three days before it had to be sent back to the repair shop for engine repairs because she added tap water to the radiator…

"Alright, you money-saving expert, start your show."

"Sizzle—!!"

The jet of water, mixed with white foam, instantly engulfed the rear door of the carriage.

For the average person, cleaning out stubborn, years-old oil that has accumulated in their car for over a decade is an absolute nightmare.

The oil stains had long since oxidized and hardened, adhering tightly to the stainless steel surface like asphalt. Even scrubbing with a steel wool for a whole day might not remove a single layer.

But Chen Ming has 25 strength.

The asphalt-like, aged oil peeled off layer by layer in his hands like flaky pastry.

In less than ten minutes, the original metallic color of the cutting board and wall had been revealed.

However, Chen Ming encountered some trouble when dealing with the high-powered stove.

This thing is made of cast iron, connected to a stainless steel base. The corners are filled with thick sludge, which can't be reached by just using a high-pressure water gun.

For an ordinary person, they would need to find a jack or crowbar to lift this big thing up.

But Chen Ming glanced at the time—if it dragged on any longer, there would be extra charges.

So he gripped the high-pressure spray gun with his left hand, casually rested his right hand on the edge of the stove, tightened his core, and exerted force as if lifting a bag of garbage.

"Ho—"

He lifted the entire stove with one hand, suspending it half a meter in the air.

"Bang!"

A young Black man at the next workstation, who was disassembling an exhaust pipe, stared at Chen Ming in disbelief, nearly smashing his toe with the wrench.

Holding such a huge stove up with one hand and spraying it with a water gun... Is this guy's arm made of hydraulic rods?

Chen Ming remained expressionless, holding a water gun in his left hand and spraying it wildly at the bottom of the stove until the black water drained away before letting go.

The stove, weighing several hundred pounds, was slammed back into place, causing the entire vehicle to sway twice.

Clearly, this is not a plastic model.

"..."

The young Black man looked down at his biceps, which were bulging like small mountains on his arms, and then at Chen Ming's somewhat thin back. He suddenly felt that all the protein powder and steroids he had consumed over the past few years had gone to waste.

If you can't even spray pesticides as well as others, what's the point of training...?

Half an hour later, the originally dilapidated white behemoth turned into a pitch-black steel cube.

Chen Ming stood to the side of the car with the last can of silver paint in his hand, but hesitated to press it down.

"Why is it stuck?"

Sofia threw away her nth cigarette butt and walked over to look at Chen Ming, who was staring blankly into space.

"I'm thinking of a name."

Chen Ming frowned – for someone who struggles with naming things, this was even more of a headache than lifting the stove with one hand earlier.

"A business needs a signboard; it can't just be bare and all black, or people will mistake it for a SWAT police car..."

"What's so difficult about that?"

Sofia crossed her arms and a mischievous smile played on her lips.

"How about calling it Hell's Kitchen?"

"Will you pay my copyright fees?"

"So... a corpse party? Zombie barbecue? Or to be more blunt, how about Chen's Morgue Barbecue?"

Sofia got more and more excited as she talked.

"Believe me, in a unique place like Los Angeles, this kind of name will definitely go viral, and influencers will line up to check it out..."

"Then the next day, the health department and the police station would line up to seal off my door."

Chen Ming rejected these bad ideas and then began to think.

After a moment, he opened his eyes.

The paint spraying made a hissing sound on the black car body, and several huge, angular English letters gradually appeared.