Bai Haorui grunted, and made a backhand True Gang Blade, forcing the angel back. He turned around and ran towards the gate of the cannery, with the angels behind him chasing after him.
A few minutes later, Bai Haorui rushed into the factory covered in blood. His hair was messy and stuck to his forehead, and his face was as pale as paper. He backhanded another True Gang Blade, forcing the two angels at the front back, and shouted to Dean and Sam: "Are you ready?"
"Okay!" Dean shouted.
Sam immediately trotted to light the holy water candles placed in the four corners of the factory, then cut his palm with a dagger and pressed the blood on Angel Banishing Spell in the center. In an instant, the runes on the ground and walls lit up with dazzling white light, forming a huge hemispherical light shield that enveloped the entire factory.
The angels let out shrill screams, and their bodies began to be burned by the white light. Their wings emitted black smoke, and their skin melted as if sulfuric acid had been poured on them. They tried desperately to rush out of the light shield, but were blocked by the power of the runes, and they hit the light shield with a dull sound. In the end, all twelve angels turned into dazzling white light and dissipated in the air.
The light mask gradually extinguished, and calm returned to the factory. The air was filled with the smell of burnt flesh. Bai Haorui could no longer hold on, and his body softened and fell to the ground. Dean and Sam immediately rushed over and helped him up.
"Hey! Haorui! Are you okay?" Dean patted Bai Haorui's face, his hands were shaking, "Don't fucking scare me!"
Bai Haorui slowly opened his eyes and gave a weak smile, "It's okay... I can't die... These little bitches still want his Uncle Bai's life... Bah!"
As he spoke, he spat out another mouthful of blood-streaked saliva. Sam immediately took out the first aid kit and began to treat Bai Haorui's wound. His movements were very gentle, for fear of hurting Bai Haorui.
"We have to be careful in the future." Sam said while wrapping Bai Haorui's arm with gauze, "Although I don't know why they wanted to kill Haorui, they want to hide our whereabouts in the future."
Bai Haorui nodded, leaned on Dean's shoulder, closed his eyes and rested for a while. "I know... but I won't be so embarrassed next time if I am prepared... Next time I will let them know that no one should mess with me Bai Haorui."
The midday sun slanted in through the dusty windows. The cafeteria was filled with the aroma of overcooked broccoli, melted cheese, and fried food. The metal tables were scratched and littered with leftover food remnants and crumpled napkins. Hundreds of students crammed into the small space, and the cacophony of voices, laughter, and clatter of cutlery was deafening.
In the most conspicuous position in the cafeteria, the "popular" table is occupied by cheerleaders and football players. The girls are wearing tight cheerleading uniforms, their hair is combed meticulously, and they are chattering and gossiping; the boys are wearing sweatshirts with "Truman Bombers" printed on them, pushing and fighting each other, showing off their muscles.
The girl chewed gum and rolled her eyes: she is such a slut.
The boy grinned, showing crooked teeth: So what? I personally support sluts. What's going on?
The girl lowered her voice and said mysteriously: She had sex with Jamie Jaffe, that's it. She even gave him a reverse cowgirl position.
The whole table burst into laughter. At this moment, Taylor came over carrying a plastic tray. She was wearing white jeans and an oversized gray hoodie, her hair was messy on her face, her eyes were evasive, and her steps were hesitant. There was only an apple and a carton of milk on her tray.
When the girl saw Taylor, she immediately put on a fake smile: Hi, Taylor. How was your weekend?
Taylor lowered his head and said in a voice so low that it was almost inaudible: It's okay.
The girl pretended to be surprised: You didn't go to... the rodeo?
Taylor didn't answer, she pointed to an empty seat at the end of the table.
Taylor said a little louder: That's my seat.
The girl stopped smiling and her tone became mean: Sorry. This is a freak-free zone.
The boy shouted: Slut!
Everyone at the table immediately shouted, their voices uniform, like sharp knives stabbing Taylor.
Everyone at the table: Slut! Slut! Slut! Slut!
Taylor's face turned red instantly, tears welling up in her eyes. She turned around suddenly and slammed the tray onto an empty table next to her, making a harsh sound. She sat heavily on the chair, holding her head in her hands, her shoulders shaking slightly.
There was only April at this table. She was a slightly fat girl, wearing a pair of thick black-rimmed glasses, and her hair was tied into a messy ponytail. She was wearing an ill-fitting floral shirt and was eating a sandwich silently. Seeing Taylor's sad look, she hesitated for a moment, and then spoke cautiously.
April has a gentle voice: You shouldn't listen to those bastards.
Taylor raised his head suddenly with fierce eyes: Leave me alone.
April was startled and lowered his head: I just want to say... I'm sorry, that's all.
Taylor sneered and said in a vicious tone: You? Are you sorry for me? Don't pity me, you fat and ugly pig.
April's face suddenly turned pale. She put down the sandwich in her hand, her lips were trembling, and she couldn't say a word. She stood up suddenly, grabbed her schoolbag, and ran out of the cafeteria quickly. Taylor looked at her back, with no guilt on her face, only a sense of revenge.
The bathroom was dimly lit, with only a few flickering fluorescent lights emitting bright white light. The white tile walls were covered with yellow water stains and messy graffiti. There was a strong smell of urine in the air. Dirty water accumulated in the sink, and the faucet dripped with water, making a monotonous "tick" sound.
Taylor stood in front of the mirror, looking at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were red and swollen, and there were tears on her face. She turned on the faucet and splashed cold water on her face, trying to calm herself down. She didn't notice that the innermost compartment door was slowly pushed open.
April walked out of the cubicle. There was no expression on her face and her eyes were empty, like a soulless puppet. She walked towards Taylor step by step, her footsteps so light that she made no sound.
April's voice is cold and emotionless: Do you think I'm ugly?
Taylor was startled and turned around suddenly. Seeing that it was April, she breathed a sigh of relief, but then she showed an impatient expression.
Taylor: Listen, I'm sorry about what happened yesterday. I didn't mean it, okay?
April said nothing. She suddenly reached out and grabbed Taylor's arm. Her strength was so amazing that Taylor couldn't break free at all. April slammed Taylor against the mirror. The mirror made a loud noise and cracked like a spider web. Taylor's head hit the mirror heavily, and stars suddenly appeared in his eyes.
Taylor screamed in horror: Ah! Let me go! Are you crazy?
April dragged Taylor expressionlessly and pulled her into a compartment. She kicked open the compartment door and threw Taylor in. Taylor fell to the cold tile floor, and before she could get up, April pounced on her, held her head firmly, and pushed her face into the toilet.
The turbid toilet water instantly flooded Taylor's mouth and nose. She struggled desperately, grabbing randomly with her hands and kicking her feet on the ground. But April's strength was extraordinary, and her head was firmly pressed into the water, unable to move. Gradually, Taylor's struggle became weaker and weaker, and finally she stopped moving.
April let go of her hand, and Taylor's body fell softly to the ground, lying face down on the toilet. April looked down at the motionless Taylor, with still no expression on her face. A drop of black, viscous liquid flowed from the corner of her left eye, slid down her cheek to her chin, and dripped on Taylor's hair.
April's voice is still cold: You are the ugly one.
The hospital building stands under the gray sky, and its white exterior walls look cold and solemn. The sirens of ambulances can be faintly heard in the distance.
Single ward. White walls, white sheets, white curtains, everything looks monotonous and depressing. The sunlight outside the window shines through the gaps in the curtains, and the electrocardiograph makes a regular "didi" sound.
April was sitting on the hospital bed, wearing a blue and white striped hospital gown. Her hands were fixed on the bed railings with soft restraints, and she was looking out the window with dull eyes. There was no expression on her face, like a lifeless statue.
Sam was wearing a clean white nursing uniform, with a name tag on his chest that read "Bob·Smith". He was holding a clipboard and a pen in his hand, sitting on a chair next to the hospital bed. His expression was gentle, with a trace of concern in his eyes.
April didn't look back, with a hoarse voice: I don't want to talk about this anymore. I've told the police and doctors. No one believes me. They all think I'm crazy.
Sam's tone was calm: Well, I'm a little more open-minded than most people. April, why did you tell the police that you were possessed?
April finally turned her head and looked at Sam. Her eyes were full of fear and despair: This is not important.
Sam: Very important to me.
April burst into tears, his voice trembling: When I - when I hurt Taylor, my consciousness was awake, but I couldn't control my body. I could see what I was doing, but I couldn't stop. I just wanted to stop. I'm sorry.
She lowered her head, her shoulders shook violently, and cried silently.
Sam: You don't need to apologize. April, some kids at school told the police that you and Taylor have a bad relationship.
April wiped his tears and raised his head: Well, yes, but I never thought about killing her. Never. Do you believe me?
Sam nodded seriously: Yes, I believe it. Let me ask a few more questions. On the day of the incident, did you... smell anything?
April looked at Sam in confusion: What does it smell like?
Sam: Like rotten eggs or... sulfur?
April shook his head: Well, no.
Sam: Okay. Did you see black smoke?
April frowned, his eyes full of confusion: Are you crazy?
Impala was parked in a corner of the hospital parking lot. Inside the car, there was an empty coffee cup and several crumpled receipts on the dashboard. The storage box on the passenger seat was opened a crack, revealing a silver pistol.
Dean was sitting in the driver's seat, holding a bottle of beer in his hand, looking out the window boredly. Bai Haorui was lying on the back seat, covered with a Dean leather jacket, closing his eyes to relax. Seeing Sam walking over, Dean rolled down the window.
Sam waved his hand and sat in the passenger seat, closing the door. He threw the clipboard on his lap and sighed.
Dean took a sip of beer: How is it?
Sam: I think she's telling the truth. I mean, the way she describes herself being conscious but not in control of her body - it sounds a bit like demonic possession.
Dean put down the beer bottle and frowned: A little? She neither saw black smoke nor smelled sulfur.
Dean: Maybe not the devil. I mean, kids can be cruel sometimes.
Sam: Well, we are already here anyway. Why not go to the school and have a look.
Dean suddenly showed a strange expression: Yes. School.
Sam looked at him doubtfully: What's wrong?
A nostalgic smile appeared on Dean's lips: Truman High School, Bombers's home stadium.
Sam: What do you want to say?
Dean: I mean, we went to school there for like... a million years ago for a month. Why are you so excited to go back?
Sam shrugged and avoided Dean's gaze: I didn't. I just thought it was worth investigating.
Dean started the car, and Impala made a low roar: OK, then what identity do we use? Federal Bureau of Investigation? Department of Homeland Security? Swedish exchange students?
Sam smiled slightly: Don't worry. I have an idea.
Dean: Okay.
Impala slowly drove out of the parking lot and merged into the traffic on the road.
The music of "Long, Long Way from Home" (Foreigner) slowly sounded. Truman High School in 1997 appeared on the screen. The school's exterior wall was newer than now, with a huge Bombers logo painted on the wall. On the playground, the football team was training, and shouts came and went.
An old model Chevrolet Impala drove to the school gate and stopped. The car door opened, and Little Dean and Little Sam got out of the car. Little Dean was wearing a black leather jacket, jeans, and a pair of ripped shoes. Old boots. His hair is longer than it is now and is combed into an unruly hairstyle. Little Sam is wearing a plaid shirt and a pair of khaki pants, carrying a large backpack. He looks thinner than other children of the same age, with a hint of timidity and uneasiness in his eyes.
The driver's seat window rolled down, revealing the profile of John·Winchester. His expression was serious and his eyes were sharp.
Little Dean waved towards the car window: Thank you, Dad.
John didn't speak, just nodded. Little Dean and Little Sam turned and walked towards the school gate. Impala drove away slowly and disappeared at the corner of the street.
Little Dean checked Little Sam's schoolbag while walking: Did you bring lunch? Where is the book? Where is the butterfly knife?
Little Sam impatiently: I brought it, Dean.
Little Dean stopped and looked at Little Sam: Are you okay?
Little Sam lowered his head and kicked the stones on the ground: It's okay.
Little Dean: Sam...
Little Sam raised his head, his eyes full of grievance and anger: I mean, this is the third school we have transferred to this year, and it is only November. I am really fed up with being a freshman all the time.
Little Dean put his hand on Little Sam's shoulder and said softly: You will be fine. If anyone gives you trouble, tell me. Relax. Dad said this hunting can last up to two weeks. We will leave as soon as he comes back.
Little Sam sneered: I went to another school again. That was great.
He shook off Dean's hand and quickly walked into the school gate. Little Dean looked at his back, sighed helplessly, and followed him.
There are rows of wooden desks and chairs in the classroom. Shakespeare's posters and students' compositions are posted on the walls. Sunlight shines in through the windows, casting warm light and shadow on the desks. Mr. Wyatt is standing on the podium. He is a middle-aged man wearing a pair of glasses, a plaid shirt and a pair of black trousers. His expression is kind, with a hint of exhaustion in his eyes.
Mr. Wyatt clapped his hands and signaled everyone to be quiet: Ladies and gentlemen, please be quiet. There is a new student in our class today.
Little Sam stood at the door of the classroom, clutching his schoolbag strap tightly with both hands. His face turned red and he did not dare to look at the students below the stage.
Mr. Wyatt: Please welcome Sam·Winchester.
The whole class (sparsely): Hi, Sam. Hi, Sam.
On the wall of the history classroom are portraits of United States presidents and a huge map of the world. A female teacher with gray hair stood on the podium. She was wearing a dark dress and a pair of gold-rimmed glasses.
The teacher pushed up his glasses: Classmates, welcome our new classmates, Dean·Winchester. Dean, is there anything you want to tell everyone?
Little Dean stood in front of the classroom with his hands in his pockets and a cynical smile on his face. He glanced around the classroom and his eyes stayed on a beautiful girl for a moment.
Little Dean blinked at the teacher: It's nothing, dear.
The whole class burst into laughter. The female teacher's face suddenly turned red, and she glared at Little Dean angrily.
Teacher: Find a seat and sit down.
Mr. Wyatt: Is there anything you want to tell everyone?
Little Sam shook his head and said in a low voice: Nothing.
Mr. Wyatt smiled gently: Okay. Well, let's find a seat.
Little Sam lowered his head and walked along the aisle to an empty desk in the last row of the classroom. He put his backpack on the table, and when he sat down, a silver butterfly knife fell out of his pocket and fell on the seat. He quickly picked it up and hid it in his schoolbag. But Barry sitting next to him still saw it.
Barry is a thin boy, wearing a pair of thick glasses, and his face is covered with freckles. When he saw the butterfly knife, his eyes suddenly lit up.
Barry whispered to Little Sam: Wow, is that yours? That's so cool!
Little Dean walked down the aisle and sat in the empty seat next to Amanda. Amanda was a beautiful girl with blond hair and blue eyes, wearing a pink sweater and a A pair of jeans. She turned her head and looked at Little Dean curiously. Little Dean grinned at her, showing her white teeth. Amanda also smiled and turned her head.
The teacher knocked on the blackboard: Dean, where is your book?
Little Dean leaned back on the chair and held his head in his hands: No need, honey. We won't stay here for long anyway.
The whole class burst into laughter again. Amanda glanced at Little Dean secretly, with a shy smile on his face.
Mr. Wyatt clapped his hands: Okay, classmates... composition homework.
The whole class complained in unison: Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!
Mr. Wyatt smiled and waved his hands: Okay, okay, I really feel sorry for you.
Barry turned his head and whispered to Little Sam: Hey... my name is Barry.
Little Sam also whispered: Sam.
Mr. Wyatt: Okay, now I want you to write three pages about your most memorable family experience. Just a reminder, this will count for half of your final grade...
When Mr. Wyatt was talking, Dirk, who was sitting in front of Barry, turned his head. Dirk was a tall and strong boy, a member of the school football team. With a fierce expression on his face, he stretched out his fingers and flicked Barry's ears.
Barry grimaced in pain, but did not dare to resist.
Little Sam frowned and said to Dirk: Don't bother him.
Dirk turned his head and glared at Little Sam fiercely: Hush, I am setting a record.
Mr. Wyatt raised his head from the podium: I don't care what you write, or even how you write it. What I want is the brutal, interesting, and maybe even painful truth. Okay, do you have any questions? Okay, let's start writing.
Dirk turned his head and flicked Barry's ears hard again.
Little Sam's voice was not loud but firm: I said, don't bother him.
Dirk put down the pen, turned around, crossed his arms, and looked down at Little Sam: Do you want to be beaten for him... little dwarf?
Little Sam looked at him without fear: OK. No problem.
Dirk was stunned for a moment, obviously not expecting this new skinny boy to dare to resist him. He sneered and turned back. Barry glanced at Little Sam gratefully.
The bell rang, and the corridor instantly became crowded. Students carrying schoolbags poured out of the classroom talking and laughing. Various posters and announcements were posted on the walls, including notices of sports meets, student union campaign posters, and lost and found notices. The locker doors were opened and closed constantly, making a "bang bang" sound.
Sam pushed the cleaning cart and slowly walked through the rows of lockers. His eyes fell on locker No. 247 and he stopped.
Little Sam opened locker No. 247 and put the books in. There were only a few books and a worn lunch box in his locker.
Little Dean walked over and threw a sandwich to Sam: "For you, dad bought it."
Little Sam took the sandwich and nodded.
"Hurry up," Little Dean said, "Dad is waiting for us in the parking lot. We are going to the next town today."
Little Sam closed the locker and locked it. He glanced in the direction of the library, his eyes full of reluctance.
Sam reached out and gently touched the cold metal door of locker No. 247. Eleven years have passed, and the owner of this locker has changed one after another, but he will always remember that this place once belonged to him.
Bai Haorui was wearing a security uniform and patrolling slowly along the corridor. His Spiritual Sense spread out like a large invisible net, carefully scanning every corner of the school, looking for the ghost's breath. He passed Mr. Wyatt's English classroom and took a look through the window. The students inside were reading the text aloud, and there was nothing unusual.
He continued to walk forward, Spiritual Sense swept across the women's restroom on the first floor. At this moment, he felt a faint, strong and angry resentment, like a cold needle, piercing the air. The resentment was very light, but very pure, full of despair and resentment.
Bai Haorui frowned and stopped. He walked towards the women's toilet. When he reached the door of the toilet, he stopped and Spiritual Sense went deep into the toilet. He could feel that the resentment came from the innermost compartment and had existed for many years.
At this moment, the class bell rang. The students in the corridor quickly returned to the classroom, and the corridor instantly became empty. Bai Haorui turned around and walked towards the gymnasium. He needed to tell Dean and Sam about this discovery.
The stadium was brightly lit. Huge basketball stands stood at both ends of the field. The floor was a polished wooden floor with white lines painted on it. There was no one in the stands, except for a few basketballs rolling around on the ground.
Dean stood in the center of the field, wearing a white short-sleeved shirt, a pair of tight red sports shorts, and a red headband on his head. He held a silver whistle in his hand, and hung a name tag around his neck that read "Jim·Roth". He was tall and straight with obvious muscle lines, which made him particularly eye-catching among a group of teenage children.