Bobby was stunned for a moment. "Texas Where did you get the braised chicken?"
Bai Haorui laughed, turned and walked out of the room. He started the black Ford F-150 off-road vehicle parked in the yard. The car made a low roar, kicked up a cloud of dust, drove onto the road, and sped away in the direction of Texas.
Ten o'clock in the morning, Canton City police station.
This is an old two-story building. The paint on the exterior wall has peeled off, exposing the gray bricks inside. There are cracks on the steps at the door. People are coming and going in the hall, making noise. Uniformed police officers are walking around in a hurry, some are escorting prisoners, some are filling out reports, and some are on the phone.
Sam and Dean wore crisp black suits and ties, and walked into the office of Sheriff Rick·Carnegie as "agents Bonham and Copeland".
Carnegie Sheriff is a burly middle-aged man, nearly 1.9 meters tall, with broad shoulders, a slightly bulging belly, and a tight shirt. He has short brown hair, and his temples are already gray. A pair of blue eyes are shining with clear light. Mang. His desk is filled with documents, and a half-drunk coffee cup is placed next to the documents. The sides of the cup are covered with brown stains. On the wall are his police badge, photos of his family, and several photos of him playing rugby when he was young. In the photos, he is young and strong, with a wanton smile.
"Rick·Carnegie." He stood up and shook hands with the brothers enthusiastically. His palm was rough and strong, like a piece of sandpaper. "Nice to meet you. The headquarters has already called. Are you here for the death of Carl·Hope Kings?"
"That's right." Dean nodded and showed a smile.
"I'm afraid your trip will be in vain." Sheriff Carnegie shrugged and pressed the play button on the computer, "We have caught the murderer. The evidence is overwhelming."
A blurry video appeared on the computer screen. The picture shook violently, and it was obviously shot with a handheld camera. The camera swept across the empty garage, with various car posters and tools hanging on the wall. Then it suddenly moved upward. Carl·Hope Kings' head was embedded in the windshield of the Porsche. His eyes were wide open, and the expression of horror was still on his face. Blood flowed down the glass and dyed the silver car body red. The picture was frozen in this horrifying moment.
"This pervert recorded all his crimes." Sheriff Carnegie said, his tone full of disgust, "It was Jim·Grossman who killed Carl. They were best friends and opened a car repair shop together. They probably turned against each other because of money issues."
"What?" The two brothers were stunned at the same time.
"Well, he was the only person at the scene." Sheriff Carnegie leaned back in his chair and crossed his hands on his stomach, looking confident. "Most violent crimes are committed by people close to the victim. This is basic common sense in criminology. And he also has a camera in his hand, who is he?"
"So, how did Jim hit Carl into the windshield with an impact of 80 miles per hour?" Dean questioned, "Did he use his mind? Or did he use his muscles?"
"Maybe it's drug use?" Carnegie Sheriff said disapprovingly, "PTSD, schizophrenia, anything is possible. Young people today can do anything. Listen, kids, this is not some kind of brain surgery. What it looks like is usually what it is. It's very simple."
Dean twitched his lips and showed a sarcastic smile. "Simple. Yes, you are right. If you don't mind, we still want to talk to Jim·Grossman. After all, this is the process of Federal Bureau of Investigation."
Carnegie Sheriff shrugged. "It's up to you. However, he is mentally unstable now. He can't ask anything."
There was only a pale chandelier hanging from the ceiling in the interrogation room, casting a circle of cold light. The walls were gray and covered with scratches. Jim·Grossman sat across the table, holding his head in his hands, shaking all over. He looked in his thirties, with messy hair, like a bird's nest. His eyes were bloodshot, and his face was stained with wet tears and dots of blood. He looked shocked.
"I was holding a camera in the house, but I didn't see anything." He said with a trembling voice, his teeth chattering constantly. "Suddenly I heard a loud noise from the garage, like a truck crashing in. I was so scared that I ran over and took a look... and saw Carl. I was so scared that my legs went weak. I picked up the camera and wanted to record it, but the police came and said that I was the murderer."
"For the sake of discussion, let's assume we believe you." Dean said.
"Why? They don't believe me." Jim raised his head, his eyes filled with bloodshot eyes, "They all think I'm a madman and a murderer. But I really didn't kill Carl! We are best friends! We grew up together!"
"We are not ordinary police." Sam said gently, leaning forward slightly, "We believe you. Please tell us, besides the loud noise, what else did you hear? Or saw something unusual? Any details are fine."
Jim took a deep breath and tried to calm down his emotions. His eyes were full of fear, as if he had returned to that terrible afternoon. "It's not what I saw, but what I heard." He said, his voice still trembling, "The tires screamed, and the sound of broken glass. It was very harsh. It was done by that car. I had heard of that curse, and I thought it was all nonsense. I always thought it was just an urban legend."
"Curse? What curse?" Dean sat up straight.
"It's that car.'Little Bastard'.James·Dean's car." Jim said, "Carl has been looking for it for years. I mean, damn, we were both looking for it. It was the biggest dream of our lives. But he found it first. He called me yesterday and he said he had a surprise for me to come over and see."
"You mean the 'Little Bastard'? James·Dean was driving the Porsche 550 Spyder when he died?" Dean patted the table excitedly, his eyes shining.
Sam looked at him blankly. "What is 'Little Bastard'?"
Dean turned his head and looked at him in disbelief, as if he had heard some fantasy. "Sam, this is James·Dean's car! He is here On September 30, 1955, while driving this car to participate in the Saratoga competition, he was killed in a car accident on California's Route 46. He was only 24 years old at the time. After that, his mechanic George·Barrys bought the wreckage and repaired it. The result? The car fell off the jack during repairs and crushed him. Then Tony·McHenry drove it on the track When the car suddenly lost control and hit a guardrail, he died. Death followed the car like exhaust fumes. No one who touched it escaped unharmed. Then in 1970, it disappeared from the back of a transport truck. No one has ever seen it again."
Dean turned to Sam with a serious expression. "I'm telling you, man, if this car is really 'Little Bastard', I bet it was the one that killed that man."
The police station's impound garage at noon.
The light here is relatively dark, with only a few incandescent lamps hanging from the ceiling, casting swaying light and shadow. The air is filled with the smell of rust, gasoline, and gasoline. More than a dozen impounded cars are parked together in a mess, some have been smashed beyond recognition, and some are covered with dust. Various discarded tires and car parts are piled in the corners.
The silver-gray Porsche was parked quietly at the edge of the garage, exuding a moist luster in the dim light. Its lines were smooth and graceful, and even after so many years, it still exuded a unique charm.
Dean approached the Porsche step by step, his eyes full of obsession, as if he was looking at a dream lover who had reunited after a long absence. He slowed down and held his breath, as if he was afraid of disturbing something. His steps were very light.
"What's wrong? What's so special about this?" Sam asked in confusion, following behind him.
"What's so special about this?" Dean turned her head and looked at him in disbelief, her voice was very low, as if she was afraid of disturbing the car, "Sam, this is James·Dean's car. It is a symbol of the times. It is the dream of many men. She is not just a car, she is a legend. She represents freedom, rebellion and never compromise."
Dean carefully walked around the car, his fingers gently brushing the smooth body, his movements as gentle as touching the skin of his lover. His eyes were full of fascination, as if he and the car were the only ones left in the world. "Okay, baby, I won't hurt you... so don't hurt me either."
"Do you need a flashlight?" Sam asked helplessly, rolling his eyes.
"No need. Don't do anything. Just go away." Dean said without looking back, with a hint of disgust in his tone, "Don't talk, okay? In fact, don't even look at her. She might be unhappy."
Sam stood aside with his arms folded, watching Dean walking around a broken car like a fool, mumbling something. He shook his head, feeling that Dean was really childish sometimes.
Dean slowly crawled under the car and carefully inspected the chassis. After a while, he climbed out as quickly as possible, patted the dust on his body, and breathed a long sigh of relief, as if he had completed a sacred ritual. "Find out who owned it. Not just the previous owner, you have to go all the way back to 1955." He handed Sam a piece of paper with the engine number written on it.
"This is a lot of research work." Sam frowned and took the note.
"Well, I think I have just arranged your afternoon activities for you." Dean grinned, showing his white teeth, and his eyes were full of pride.
Four hours later, Texas west, Lone Star Town outside.
Bai Haorui parked Ford F-150 in an oak forest outside the town. He turned off the engine and opened the door. A strong smell of blood and gunpowder smoke immediately hit his face.
He raised his head and looked around, only to see a thick layer of black fog covering the entire Lone Star Town, like a huge black cloth, covering the entire town tightly. That was Horseman of War's Power of War is condensed, full of violence, killing, hatred and despair. Even from a long distance, Bai Haorui can feel the heart-stopping sense of oppression.
Bai Haorui put on his backpack and pulled out the mahogany sword. He first affixed a Clear Heart Talisman and a King Kong Talisman on himself, and the pale golden runes integrated into his body, making his mind more stable., the body was also wrapped in a layer of faint golden light. Then, he bit his fingertips, put a drop of blood on the center of his eyebrows, and recited Heavenly Eye Opening Spell in his mouth. "Xuanzong of heaven and earth, the root of Wanqi. I have cultivated for hundreds of millions of kalpas and proved my magical powers. Within and outside the three realms, only the Tao is supreme. Open!"
An imperceptible golden light flashed through his eyes. After turning on Heavenly Eye, it was like dynamic vision, and the scene in front of him became clearer. He could see countless grievances and resentments rolling in the black mist. They twisted, screamed, and tore each other, full of pain and anger. He could see the strong murderous aura remaining on the streets, like invisible sharp knives, which hurt people's skin.
There was so much resentment and murderous intent. Bai Haorui's heart sank suddenly. It was ten times stronger than the town of River Pass. How many people did Horseman of War kill this time?
He took a deep breath, held the mahogany sword tightly, and cautiously walked into the town.
The sight before him made him take a breath.
The streets were littered with corpses, lying in random directions on top of one another. There were men, women, and children waiting for food. Their deaths were extremely brutal. Some were chopped beyond recognition by axes, and their heads rolled to the side; some were beaten by bullets. There were blood holes all over the sieve; some strangled each other's necks and died together, with their fingernails deeply embedded in each other's flesh; some had their stomachs stabbed with knives, and their intestines flowed all over the floor. There were expressions of madness and anger on their faces, and their eyes were wide open, and they could not rest in peace.
The blood dyed the entire street red, glowing with a strange dark red under the sun. The blood gathered into small blood streams and slowly flowed to the sewers on the roadside. The shops on the roadside were smashed, the window glass was shattered on the ground, and the merchandise was scattered everywhere., soaked in blood. An overturned car was still burning, making a "crackling" sound, and thick black smoke rolled up, covering the sky. There was deathly silence in the entire town, with only the whimpering sound of the wind blowing through the streets, as if countless innocent souls were crying.
This is still a small town, this is clearly the human world Hell.
Suddenly, a burst of chaotic footsteps came.
A dozen people with red eyes and blood all over their bodies rushed out from the alley next to them. They held axes, kitchen knives, steel pipes, and baseball bats in their hands. They roared like wild beasts, their eyes were empty and crazy, and they completely lost their minds. When they saw Bai Haorui, they rushed towards him crazily like sharks that smelled blood.
Bai Haorui knows that these people are innocent civilians whose minds have been affected by Horseman of War. They are just victims of war.
He took a step forward with his left foot, quickly formed a seal with his left hand, and chanted in his mouth. "Tai Shang Tai Xing, adapt to the situation without stopping. Expelling Evil binds the charm, protects the life and body. The wisdom is clear, the mind is peaceful. The three souls are eternal, and the soul has no loss."
As he recited the incantation, a soft golden light lit up on the palm of his left hand. He waved his hand, and a dozen Clear Heart Talisman that had been prepared flew out at the same time, like golden meteors, accurately attached to everyone's body.
The golden light was like a warm current, slowly integrating into their bodies, dispersing the madness and hatred in their hearts. Those who rushed towards them froze, and the weapons in their hands fell to the ground with a clang. The red in their eyes slowly faded, and their empty eyes regained their proper look.
They looked around blankly, at their blood-stained hands, and at the corpses scattered on the ground. Then, some people screamed in pain, some collapsed on the ground and cried, some were holding the bodies of their loved ones in agony, some kept vomiting, as if they wanted to spit out their internal organs, and some just stood there blankly, their eyes even more hollow than before.
"What happened?" A middle-aged man looked at his blood-stained hands and burst into tears, his voice hoarse and desperate, "I... I killed my wife... I strangled her to death with my own hands... and my son...God, what have I done! Why did I do this!"
Another young girl was holding a baby's body, shaking it constantly, muttering to herself, "Baby, wake up, mom is wrong, mom will never hit you again... wake up..."
Bai Haorui looked at their painful looks and felt uncomfortable in his heart, as if he was blocked by something. He said softly, "This is not your fault. It was Horseman of War who controlled your minds and amplified the anger and hatred in your hearts. He made you become his killing tool. It's okay now, you are safe."
He took out all the remaining Clear Heart Talisman from his backpack and gave them to them. "Find a safe place to hide. Lock the doors and windows. If you encounter someone who has lost their mind again, stick this on them. I will help you after I solve the Horseman of War."
After saying that, he turned and walked towards the center of the town. The black fog was thickest there, and Horseman of War must be there. His steps were firm and heavy, and every step seemed to step on the hearts of countless innocent souls.
At the same time, in a small bar in Canton City.
This bar is located in an alley in the city center. It has a small facade and is not bright inside. Posters of various bands are hung on the walls. Behind the bar are a variety of wine bottles, shining dimly under the dim lights. The air is filled with the smell of beer and perfume.
Dean sat on the bar and showed his most charming smile to the young and beautiful female bartender. The female bartender was probably in her early twenties, had blond curly hair and a pair of big blue eyes, and had two cute dimples on her face when she smiled. She wore a black tank top, revealing her fair shoulders and slender waist.
"So you want to be an actor, eh?" Dean said, his eyes full of appreciation.
"Yes." The female bartender nodded and said while wiping the glass, "I have dreamed of being an actor since I was a child. I came to Los Angeles from a small town in Ohio just to realize my dream of being an actor. But now I can only work as a bartender here and barely make ends meet."
"What a coincidence, I am actually the agent of William Morris Endeavor Entertainment." Dean said seriously, without blinking an eye, "I came to Canton City this time to discover new talents with potential."
"Wow." The female bartender opened her eyes wide in surprise, with an excited expression on her face, "Really?"
"Of course it's true." Dean said, "Do you mind pouring me another drink?"
"Okay." The female bartender quickly poured him a glass of cold beer.
"Thank you." Dean took the beer, took a sip, looked into her eyes, and said sincerely, "Hey, you are born to be a star. You have a very photogenic face, and your temperament is very unique. Believe me, I have met many people who want to be actors, but you are the one with the most potential. If you are willing, I can give you a chance to audition."
At this moment, Dean's cell phone rang. He glanced at the caller ID, the smile on his face froze, and he reluctantly picked up. "Yo."
"Hey. It took me a long time to finally find out the previous owners of this car." Sam's voice came from the other end of the phone, with a hint of exhaustion and dissatisfaction, "I searched for four hours, and my eyes were almost blind."
"Did anyone die miserably?" Dean said, winking at the female bartender.
"No. In fact...Dean, were you in the bar? I heard the sound of music in the background."
"No, I'm in a restaurant." Dean lied. At this time, the female bartender just put a glass of fresh beer in front of him. "This is your beer."
"Thank you." Dean said into the phone, "There just happens to be a bar in this restaurant."
"I'm here searching exhaustively for information, but you're flirting with girls in the bar?" Sam said dissatisfiedly, his tone full of grievances, "Do you know how difficult it is to check? I looked through several databases and made several phone calls."
"Hey, don't be so stingy, man." Dean took a sip of beer, "I've been crawling under 'Christine's skirt all afternoon. I'm covered in oil and my back is sore. I need a drink to relax. This is also to work better, isn't it?"
"Actually, you don't need to."
"What do you mean?" Dean's smile disappeared.
"The first owner of this car was a cardiologist named Philadelphia, named Robert·Harrison. He drove it until he died of a heart attack in 1972. After that, the car was resold twice, and all the owners died, and none of them died unexpectedly. "Sam's voice was calm and clear, "So the Porsche you are talking about is not and has never been James·Dean's car. It is a fake 'Little Bastard'. Carl was deceived."
The smile on Dean's face disappeared instantly. He put down his wine glass and his expression became serious. "What killed that person?"
"Good question." Sam said, "Besides, I just received a call from the police chief. Another murder occurred. William Professor Hill died in his home. The way of death was as strange as Carl."
About eight o'clock in the evening, the home of William Professor Hill.
This is a small Victorian villa located in the suburbs, with a beautiful Garden and a white picket fence. The Garden is filled with all kinds of flowers, exuding a faint fragrance in the night. At this moment, the villa is brightly lit, police lights are flashing, and the alternating red and blue light illuminates the entire yard, breaking the tranquility of the night.
When the brothers arrived, Sheriff Carnegie was standing at the door of the study, smoking a cigarette with a sad look on his face. Several cigarette butts had been thrown at his feet.
"I heard that you encountered another strange thing." Dean said, taking out his police badge and shaking it.