That was the barrier Wu Heng had set up.
It was an isolation barrier powerful enough to seal everything inside the manor away completely. Even scanners could detect no energy fluctuations within.
Dean gritted his teeth, his face grim as he stepped forward. The two walked side by side toward the manor gates.
Dim yellow lamplight seeped through the gap in the gates. Dean reached out and pushed them open, and the hinges let out a piercing creak, as though they had not been opened in a very long time.
Then they saw Wu Heng.
Wu Heng stood in the middle of the grounds not far from the gates, looking at the Silver Cube in his palm.
The cube was glowing brightly, but not harshly. Its silver-white light fell over his face, making his expressionless features look like a jade carving.
Dean and Sam stood at the entrance. Neither went inside, and neither spoke.
They did not know what to say.
Question him? Question someone who had saved them countless times, who had saved this world countless times?
On what grounds? A nightmare? A woman in a dream telling them, You're not a good person. You're doing bad things. Who would believe that if they said it out loud?
Sam clenched his fists, his nails digging into his palms without loosening.
Wu Heng slowly turned his head.
The cube's silvery-white light reflected in his eyes. Those eyes were as deep as ancient wells, utterly still.
He looked at Dean and Sam—at these two demon hunters who had fought their way through countless disasters at his side; at these two men who should have been at home vacationing with their mother, yet now stood before him exhausted, their eyes bloodshot and their entire bodies drawn taut like bowstrings stretched to their