She took a deep breath, leaned back in her chair, picked up a pen, and wrote an address on a piece of paper.
"Okay." She handed them the note, "Carver Ed Lund is a pen name. His real name is Chuck Shurley. He lives in a small house outside the city. Here's the address."
"Thank you." Dean took the note, turned around and left.
Just when the three of them walked to the door, Bai Haorui heard the name "Chuck·Shulli".
In an instant, all the hairs on his body stood up.
Sure enough it was him.
The presence that appeared in his room that morning.
The God who created this world.
Now, he is trying his best to play the role of a failed prophet.
Bai Haorui took a deep breath and tried to speak again, wanting to tell Dean and Sam the truth.
"Dean, Sam, this Chuck·Shurley is not an ordinary writer, he is--"
From what Dean and Sam heard, what he said was, "This Chuck·Shurley is no ordinary writer, he is a serious cat slave who has raised seventeen cats!"
Dean paused, turned his head, and looked at him with a twitching corner of his mouth. "Seventeen cats? Doesn't his house smell like hell?"
Sam patted his shoulder helplessly. "Haorui, stop making trouble. We still have business to do."
"I'm not making trouble! I'm serious!" Bai Haorui said anxiously, "He really is--"
"He is really a man who once participated in a national fart competition and won third place!"
Dean was stunned at first, and then couldn't help laughing. "Hahahaha! Real or fake? Then he is so awesome! I didn't expect this writer to be so talented."
Sam also suppressed his laughter and pulled Dean out. "Okay, okay, we know. Let's go and find him."
Bai Haorui looked at the two people's backs laughing.
, he completely understood.
This rule is absolute.
No exceptions.
Anytime he tries to say anything about Chuck being God, it turns into the most outrageous, hilarious nonsense.
He was like a prisoner whose mouth was sealed, knowing the truth but unable to tell anyone.
Chuck's home is in a remote woods outside the city. It is a dilapidated cabin with overgrown weeds in the yard and empty beer cans and takeaway boxes everywhere. It looks like a standard homeless gathering place.
Dean parked the car on the side of the road, the three of them got out of the car and walked to the door.
Dean pressed the doorbell.
There was no reaction in the room.
He pressed it again.
After a while, there was a sound of shuffling footsteps in the room. The door was only opened a crack, and Chuck poked his head out. His hair was always messy, his beard was unkempt, his eyes were bloodshot, and he was wearing a wrinkled bathrobe. He also held an unlit cigarette in his hand, and he looked like he had just woken up.
When his gaze swept across the three people, his eyes suddenly shrank.
His eyes stayed on Bai Haorui for a long, long time. There was a trace of imperceptible teasing in his eyes.
He was very curious about how this variable person who knew his true identity but couldn't tell him was feeling now.
"Are you Chuck·Shurley?" Dean asked.
"Is this Chuck·Shurley who wrote the books "Supernatural"?" Sam asked next.
Chuck looked away and said vaguely, "Maybe. What's wrong?"
Dean took a deep breath and said word by word, "I am Dean. This is Sam. This is Bai Haorui. It is the Dean, Sam and Bai Haorui that you have been writing."
Chuck's face changed instantly.
He slammed the door shut.
There was a "bang" sound and almost hit Dean's nose.
"Hey!" Dean patted the door hard, "Open the door!"
After a few seconds, Chuck opened the door again. He held the door handle tightly in his hand, his body was shaking slightly, and his eyes were full of fright.
"Look, uh... I appreciate your enthusiasm. Really," he said with a trembling voice, "It's always nice to meet fans. But for your own good, I strongly suggest you find something else to do."
He said and was about to close the door again. Dean quickly reached out to block the door and pushed hard. The door opened and the three of them walked in. Chuck was forced to take a few steps back and stumbled down on the sofa.
"Wait, this is not funny." Chuck looked at them in horror, "If you do this again, I will call the police."
"It's not funny at all." Dean closed the door, leaned against it, and said with a serious expression.
"We just want to know how you did it." Sam said.
"I didn't do anything." Chuck waved his hands wildly, "I'm just a writer."
"Are you a hunter?" Dean approached him step by step and asked.
"What? No." Chuck's eyes widened, "I'm a writer. I don't even dare to kill a spider."
"Then how do you know so much about demons?" Dean asked, "And Turpas, changelings, Wendigo? And Bai Haorui's abilities? How do you know these?"
Bai Haorui stood aside and looked at Chuck coldly.
Bai Haorui stared into Chuck's eyes and said word for word, "You are not writing a book at all. You are. You are--"
"You're not writing a book at all. You're creating a world. You're a genius who plays the piano with your toes!"
Dean and Sam covered their faces at the same time.
Chuck looked confused and scratched his head subconsciously. "... Thank you? Actually, I can only play "Little Star". I still play it by hand."
"That's not what I meant!" Bai Haorui was so angry that he almost vomited blood, "You are God! You are the creator of this world!"
"That's not what I meant! You are God! You are the creator of the best chocolate chip cookies in the world!"
Dean held his forehead and said painfully, "Haorui, please, stop talking."
"He may be too nervous." Sam said helplessly, and then turned to Chuck, "Don't mind him. There's something wrong with him today."
Chuck smiled awkwardly and pointed to the kitchen. "Actually... the chocolate chip cookies I made are really good. Do you want to try them? I just baked them."
Bai Haorui looked at the reactions of the three people and punched the wall next to him, making a muffled sound. He made a shallow pit in the wall.
He could feel that Chuck was looking at him with unabashed teasing in his eyes.
He is watching his own joke.
Watching his own struggle and weakness with interest.
Bai Haorui Close your eyes and take a deep breath. When you open them again, there is only cold calm in your eyes.
He stopped talking.
He knew that it was useless no matter what he said.
He could only wait.
Wait for an opportunity.
A chance to break this damn rule.
Dean strode outside the house and suddenly opened the trunk of Impala.
Various weapons were neatly placed in the trunk: two sawed-off shotguns, four pistols, a dozen silver daggers, bags of rock salt and holy water, various spells and tools for exorcism, and stacks of forged ID cards and driver's licenses. Bai Haorui's mahogany sword lay quietly on top, with complex Daoist runes engraved on the sword, glowing lightly in the sun.
Dean turned around, leaned on the car, and looked at Chuck who followed him out.
Chuck's eyes were as big as bells, his mouth opened in an O shape, and his face was as white as paper. He pointed at the weapons in the trunk, his fingers trembling.
"Then... are those real guns?" His voice trembled so much that it was almost inaudible.
Dean nodded. "Yes. This is real rock salt, these are real holy water, and these are real fake ID cards." He picked up a salt bag and shook it, "We are not playing games, Chuck. All of this is real."
Chuck swallowed and forced a smile. "Well, I have to admire you. You are really my number one fan. These props are so realistic." He was still very nervous, holding the corners of his clothes tightly with his hands, "That's great. I... I may have some posters in the house. If you want, you can take them all."
Dean interrupted him impatiently. "Chuck, stop talking."
Chuck suddenly cried sadly. "Please. Wait. Please don't hurt me. I will give you all the royalties. I really don't have much money."
Sam stepped forward and softened his tone. "We won't hurt you. We just want to know the truth. Do you know about the angel? Or that Lilith is breaking the seal?"
Chuck raised his head suddenly, the fear on his face turned into confusion. "Wait a minute. How do you know that?"
Dean raised his eyebrows. "The question is how did you know."
Chuck said naturally, "Because I wrote it?"
Sam's eyes flashed. "Are you still writing?"
"Yeah." Chuck nodded, "Even if the publishing house went bankrupt, I was still writing. Those books were never published. I just... couldn't stop." He suddenly thought of something and looked at them warily, "Wait, this is a joke, right? Did Phil ask you to come? He always makes boring jokes like this."
Dean looked into his eyes and said word by word, "Nice to meet you. I am Dean·Winchester. This is my brother Sam·Winchester. This is Bai Haorui."
Chuck's body shook violently.
The expression on his face was completely frozen.
"Winchester..." He muttered to himself, his eyes wandering, "The last name has never appeared in the book. I have never told anyone. I have never even written it down."
Bai Haorui leaned on Impala's car and looked at him coldly.
Of course he knows.
Bai Haorui took a deep breath and made one last attempt.
"He knows our last names! Because he created this earth! He is-"
"He knows our last names because he created us! He is an alcoholic who can drink an entire bottle of whiskey in one go without blinking an eye!"
Dean turned his head suddenly and glared at Bai Haorui. "Bai Haorui! What the hell are you talking about today!"
"Okay, okay." Sam quickly grabbed Dean, "He's just too excited. Don't be angry."
Chuck touched his nose in embarrassment and muttered in a low voice, "Actually... a whole bottle is a bit much. I'll drink half a bottle at most."
Bai Haorui Close your eyes and stop talking.
The sun shines on his face, but cannot shine into his cold eyes.
Chuck stumbled into the kitchen and poured himself a large glass of whiskey. His hands shook so much that half of the wine spilled on the counter. He picked up the glass and drank it all in one gulp. The spicy liquid made him cough a few times. He placed the glass heavily on the sink, turned around, and let out a desperate groan when he saw the three people standing in the living room.
"Oh! You are still here."
Dean nodded. "Yes."
"You are not hallucinating."
"No."
Chuck took a deep breath, as if he had made some determination. "Okay, there is only one explanation. Obviously I am a god."
Sam frowned. "You are not a god."
"Otherwise how do you explain it?" Chuck waved his arms excitedly, "Whatever I write becomes true. Yes, I am definitely a god. A cruel, very cruel, capricious god. The things I made you go through... just the physical beatings are enough."
Bai Haorui suddenly raised his head and stared at Chuck.
You are so mean when you ride on a horse!
Although he didn't speak, this sentence was written clearly in his eyes.
Dean touched his chin. "Yes, we are still alive."
"I killed your father." Chuck's voice choked with sobs, "I burned your mother alive on the ceiling. What was it all for? It was all for literary symmetry. I played with your lives and your feelings just for... entertainment."
Dean walked up and patted his shoulder. "You didn't play with us, Chuck, okay? You didn't create us. We think you might just have Spirit Communication abilities. You can see the future and then write it down."
"No." Chuck shook his head, "If I had Spirit Communication's ability, do you think I would still be able to write? Writing is too difficult."
"It seems like somehow you just... focus on our lives," Sam said. "Like a laser."
Dean nodded. "Yes. Are you writing something now?"
Chuck suddenly changed his face and slapped his forehead suddenly. "Oh my god."
"What?" Sam asked quickly.
Chuck walked quickly to the desk and picked up the pages he was reading just now. "This latest book? It's a bit strange."
"What a strange method?"
"Very Vonnegut style."
Dean immediately looked at him intently. "The kind of "Slaughterhouse-Five" Vonnegut or the kind of "Cat's Cradle"?"
Sam turned his head and looked at Dean in surprise. "What?"
Dean scratched his head in embarrassment and said defensively, "What's wrong? Can't I like Vonnegut?"
Chuck shook his head. "It's the 'Kilgo Trout' kind Vonnegut. I wrote myself in it. I wrote myself, in my house... and was visited by my characters." He held up the manuscript and pointed at the words on it.
Bai Haorui walked to the desk, picked up another stack of manuscripts and looked through them.
When he saw the paragraph describing himself in the manuscript, the hairs all over his body stood up.
The manuscript not only records his actions and words, but even his inner activities. From the uneasiness he felt in the morning, to his shock in the comic book store, to his anger and powerlessness after many failed attempts to tell the truth... everything was accurately recorded on paper.
Except one thing.
Regarding the part where Chuck is God.
That part is completely blank in the manuscript.
It was as if Chuck couldn't see his thoughts at all.
Bai Haorui's heart jumped suddenly, and an indescribable ecstasy swept over him instantly.
He can't see it!
He can't see my thoughts about who he really is!
Nezha's True Fire not only protected my memory from being modified, but also shielded him from prying into this part of my thoughts!
It turns out that I am not completely powerless to fight back.
It turns out I have a secret.
Bai Haorui clenched his fists hard, and his nails dug deeply into his palms. The pain made him more awake. He looked out the window, his eyes becoming extremely determined.
It doesn't matter.
It doesn't matter if I can't tell anyone the truth now.
As long as I know it myself.
As long as my mind is still free, that's fine.
One day, I will break the script you wrote.
One day, I will make you pay for today's teasing.
Night falls.
"Bubbles" The lights in the self-service laundromat were brightly lit. The washing machine was running rumbled, making a monotonous and regular sound. The white light of the fluorescent lamp illuminated the empty room, making it seem a little deserted.
Sam threw a pile of dark clothes into the washing machine, put in a few coins, and pressed the start button. The washing machine made a buzzing sound and started to spin.
Dean sat on the plastic chair next to him, frowning as he read the manuscript of Chuck. His fingers crossed the paper from time to time, and his expression became more and more solemn.
Bai Haorui was leaning against the wall, playing with a Five Emperor Coins in his hand. The copper coin was spinning flexibly on his fingertips, reflecting the cold light. His eyes were cold, and he was still thinking about Chuck in his mind.
"I was sitting in the laundromat, reading about myself." Dean put down the manuscript, rubbed his temples, and said with a painful look on his face, "My head hurts."
Sam leaned against the washing machine and crossed his arms across his chest. "There must be something else that this guy hasn't told us."
Sam turned around and threw the remaining dark clothes into the washing machine nearby.
Dean looked down at the manuscript, then looked up at Sam, with a smirk on his lips.
He cleared his throat and read, imitating Chuck's tone. "'Sam threw his huge dark clothes into the washing machine. He began to doubt Chuck and whether he was telling the whole truth.'"
Sam said without looking back, "Stop reading it."
Dean smiled even more. "'Stop reading,' Sam said." He shook the manuscript in his hand, "Guess what you are going to do next."
Sam turned around suddenly, frowning, with obvious displeasure on his face.
Dean pointed at the manuscript and said proudly, "'Sam turned his back to Dean, with a pensive and melancholy expression on his face.' I mean, I don't know how he did it, but he did it. I can't see your face, but that is definitely your 'pensive and melancholy' shoulders."
Sam sighed and kicked the trash can next to him irritably.
Dean looked down at the manuscript again, then raised his head and looked at him with a half-smile. "You just thought I was a bastard."
Sam turned around, the displeasure on his face turned into admiration. "This guy is really awesome."
Bai Haorui straightened up from the wall, walked to Dean, picked up the manuscript and turned to the page describing himself.
He looked at the text above and read it word by word, "'Bai Haorui was leaning against the wall, playing with a Five Emperor Coins in his hand, his eyes were cold. He was filled with uneasiness, and he felt that his life was being controlled by an invisible hand.'"
He closed the manuscript abruptly and his expression became ugly, as if he was being forced to eat feces.
"How disgusting!" He threw the manuscript on the table and said in disgust.
Dean patted his shoulder. "Don't think too much, Haorui. No matter how he did it, we will not be controlled by him. Our destiny is in our own hands."
Bai Haorui raised his head and looked at Dean and Sam with complicated eyes.
"What if he writes that we will die tomorrow?" he asked softly.
There was silence in the laundry.
Only the rumbling sound of the washing machine echoed in the empty room, making it particularly harsh.
At the same time, at Chuck's home.
Chuck fell asleep lying in front of the desk, with his head resting on his arms. The computer screen was still on, emitting a faint blue light. He began to have nightmares again. His brows were tightly knitted together, his body was twitching, and his forehead was once again covered with cold sweat.
In a dream.
A shabby motel room with dim lights flickering.
A beautiful young blond woman sat beside the bed and looked at Sam with a smile. Her smile was sweet and seductive, but there was no warmth in her eyes.
She stretched out her hand, lightly traced her white fingers on the sheets, and patted the bed seductively.
Sam approached slowly, his eyes blurred, as if he was bewitched.
Just when he was about to sit on the bed, the woman's eyes suddenly turned completely white. She suddenly stretched out her hand and grabbed Sam's collar, and her nails became black and long.
At this moment, Bai Haorui, holding a mahogany sword with purple-gold flames burning all over his body, broke through the door. His eyes were cold and he stabbed the woman with his sword.
"Ah--!"
Chuck woke up suddenly, gasping for air. He looked around in horror, and it took him a while to recover. He wiped the cold sweat from his forehead and patted his chest with lingering fear.
Early the next morning, the three of them came to Chuck's home again.
Chuck was pacing nervously in the living room, twisting the manuscript paper in his hands constantly with his fingers, and his face was as pale as a ghost. Sam, Dean and Bai Haorui were sitting on the sofa, looking at him quietly.
"So... you wrote another chapter?" Sam asked first.
Chuck stopped and sighed. "Before you became real people, all this was much easier. I could write anyone to death and let anyone experience terrible things. But now... when I think that what I wrote will actually happen to you, I just..." He shuddered and couldn't continue.
Dean leaned forward slightly. "Let's just say what we can bear."
Chuck bit his lip and glanced at Dean. "You especially won't like this."
Dean shrugged. "I've even been there Hell. Is there anything else I can't bear?"
Chuck took a deep breath, as if he had made a huge determination. "It's Lilith. She's here to see Sam."
Dean stood up suddenly. "Come to kill him?"
Sam also stood up with a stern look in his eyes. "When?"
"Tonight." Chuck said.
"She just came here directly?" Dean asked.
Chuck sat down, put on his glasses, and picked up the manuscript. "Uh... let me see." He cleared his throat and read awkwardly, "'Lilith patted the bed seductively. Sam couldn't resist his desire and gave in, and they fell into a fiery demonic passion.'"
Sam couldn't help but laugh out loud. "Are you kidding me?"
Dean glared at Sam with a serious tone. "You think this is funny?"
"Don't you think?" Sam spread his hands, "Please, 'blazing demonic passion'? This is too vulgar. This is simply the level of a third-rate romance novel."
Chuck blushed slightly. "This is just the first draft. I haven't had time to change it yet."
Dean suddenly thought of something. "Wait a minute. Isn't Lilith a little girl? The last time we saw her, she was still possessing a little girl."