As the door closed, Wu Heng stood quietly before it.
The material of the door before him was impossible to define. It resembled rusted bronze, yet also weathered bone.
The markings on its surface continuously writhed and rearranged themselves. Patterns of angelic wings split into demonic pentagrams, then finally twisted into a face that radiated both sacredness and blasphemy.
Dull impacts came from the other side of the door.
This was not the sealed door itself, but a new door built outside it—one capable of temporarily confining them until the true door of the inner seal could be shut.
Every blow from behind the door was like a massive hammer striking the skeleton of the earth. The impacts shook the air, rattled the rules of reality, as two opposing primordial powers collided madly within their cage.
With every impact, grayish-white ripples spread across the ground, as though pebbles had been cast into a stagnant pool.
"How much longer can they hold out?" a voice spoke from behind Wu Heng.
It came from the Puppet Wraith's enormous body. Among that tangled mass of tentacles, the tips of two thinner tentacles were undergoing a transformation.
Their scales smoothed over, their barbs drew in, and their color shifted toward the texture of human skin. Their outlines began taking shape: bridge of the nose, eye sockets, cheekbones, jawlines.
Two faces gradually became clear.
The face on the left had sharper features, its mouth habitually turned down in Dean's signature irreverent smirk. The one on the right had gentler lines, with the thoughtful crease that always rested between Sam's brows.
The two faces had grown from the ends of separate tentacles, swaying faintly as the tentacles squirmed. The sight was both bizarre and absurd.
"Until the seal closes completely." Wu Heng did not turn around,