The morning fog lay heavily on the interstate highway like a gray veil soaked in water.
Impala's tires ran over the gravel, and the sound of rubber rubbing against the road surface was dissipated in the fog. The residual heat of the engine slowly spread along the chassis, creating a few wisps of white steam in the air-conditioning.
The smell of coffee wafted through the carriage, and Sam's fingertips rested on the bright screen of his mobile phone.
The text message only contained a few words: It's a matter of life and death, come Pineview Hotel. The sender is Chuck.
"It's Chuck." Sam turned his face and handed the phone to the driver's seat, his eyebrows twisted into a knot, "He has never said such a thing before. I'm afraid something really happened."
Dean glanced at the screen, turned the car key with his right hand, and the engine made a low hum, which made the car windows tremble slightly. "What nonsense are you talking about? Hurry up and get over there. That coward can't do anything except write a book. If he really runs into something, he will be fine." He leaned over and rushed out of the car, raising his chin, "Haorui, get in the car! Leave early and come back early."
Bai Haorui leaned against the passenger door and did not move.
The morning light penetrated the mist and fell on the side of his face, outlining his clear jawline. His fingertips carelessly rubbed the Five Emperor Coins with a vermilion string around his waist. The copper coin was warmed by the body temperature, and the seal characters on it glowed with a very faint golden light in the mist.
Bai Haorui knew in his heart: With Chuck here, he would hold his breath when he went there - he couldn't hold his tongue and what he wanted to say would automatically turn into nonsensical nonsense like "Chuck baked pie can poison three cows" in other people's ears. Instead of going to act with Chuck, it would be better to stay and do business.
"You two go, I won't go." He raised his eyes, his tone was as calm as if he was saying that the wind was not strong today, but the reason he found was spotless, "Bobby's leg injury has just reached the critical stage of consolidating the foundation. The last time to clear the meridians cannot be postponed. If it is too late, the cold air will sink into the bones. It will be rainy in the future. God is going to suffer. You go deal with Chuck's matter, and I'll treat Bobby at home, and sort out Horsemen of the Apocalypse's information. When you come back, his legs will be better, and we can figure out what to do next."
Sam thought for a moment and nodded. Bobby's leg injury lasted almost half a year. "It's okay. We can rest assured that you are here. If we find anything, call us anytime."
Dean curled his lips, always feeling that something was wrong, but he couldn't find anything wrong.
He waved his hand and closed the window, saying "Please don't worry, just call me if you need anything", and turned the steering wheel.
Impala slowly turned onto the main road leading to Pineview Hotel. The black car body was quickly swallowed up by the thick morning fog, and even the sound of the engine gradually became inaudible.
Bai Haorui stood there and watched the car disappear completely at the end of the mist, then turned and walked towards an old pickup truck parked on the roadside. The moment he opened the door and got in, he breathed a silent sigh of relief - at last he no longer had to act with that bitch Chuck.
The pickup truck drove through the dew in the direction of Bobby's home. The fog gradually dispersed, and the sky was white as a fish belly.
It was quiet inside the car, Bai Haorui's fingertips were resting on the steering wheel, True Gang was flowing slowly in his pubic area, and he had already gone through the physical therapy plan for Bobby's leg injury in his mind.
The old blood stasis has been blocked in the meridians for too long. For the last time, Pure Yang True Gang from "Three Altars Body-Refining True Fire Art" can be used to completely break up the blockage in the joints, and then use silver needles to stabilize the qi and blood. This can ensure that he can run and jump like before after he recovers, without leaving any sequelae.
Bobby's study room always has a unique smell of old paper, turpentine, gunpowder and cold coffee. It is the "smell of safety" engraved in the memory of all hunters.
Sunlight slanted in from the window covered with thin gray, creating a line between light and dark on the desk filled with ancient books and demon hunting files, and dust slowly fell in the beam of light.
Bobby was sitting in a wheelchair, with a brushed army green blanket covering his knees. He was flipping through a yellowed file with his head lowered and the edges of the pages were curled. When he heard the familiar footsteps, he didn't even raise his head and said in a rough voice, "Why didn't you go to Chuck's place with those two boys?"
"It's enough for the two of them." Bai Haorui put the physiotherapy bag in his hand on the corner of the table, squatted down and gently lifted the blanket on Bobby's knees, and relaxed his strength when his fingertips touched the bandage, "I'll stay and give you one last meridian dredging. After this time, the blockage will be completely dissolved, and you will be back to normal, no different from before."
Bobby paused while flipping through the files.
He lowered his head and looked at his knee. There was still some faint swelling in the injured area. His Adam's apple moved. He didn't say any pretentious words of thanks. He flattened his leg honestly and followed Bai Haorui's movements to untie the bandage. "Haorui. I originally thought that if I could walk on crutches, it would be a good thing."
Bai Haorui did not answer the call and took out a row of sterilized silver needles from the physiotherapy bag.
A wisp of lavender True Gang condensed on his fingertips, and True Qi followed the fingertips to the silver needle. The original silver-white needle body was instantly covered with a very light purple-gold halo, and the temperature also increased.
His hand was extremely steady, and between the rising and falling of his fingertips, the silver needles accurately penetrated into the acupuncture points around Bobby's knees one by one: Yanglingquan, Zusanli, Xianyangguan, Yinlingquan... Each one was precise and the depth was just right.
The purple-gold shimmer slowly penetrated into the meridians along the silver needles, like warm water slowly flowing through the blocked rivers. The old injuries and blood stasis that had accumulated for several months were gradually dissolved by True Gang, and spread to the limbs and bones along with the circulation of Qi and blood.
Bobby could clearly feel the soreness and swelling in his knees, and then the long-lost warmth spread down his calves to the soles of his feet.
"Waiting for the leg to heal, a case just came from the small town in the west." Bai Haorui said calmly while twisting the silver needle to activate True Gang, "Three corpses were lost in the cemetery one after another, and a homeless man disappeared. Witnesses said they saw a gray shadow wandering near the funeral home late at night. It is most likely a ghoul. Let's go take a look then."
Bobby's eyes lit up, like a dusty tungsten filament bulb that was suddenly powered on, and there was light for an instant. But the light quickly dimmed again. He twitched the corner of his mouth in a self-deprecating manner, and his unshaven face was full of exhaustion. "It will be a hindrance if you go. I can't let you fight monsters while taking care of my old Bones."
In the past few months in a wheelchair, he watched Dean and Sam Bai Haorui struggling outside, but he couldn't even walk. He could only work on files and act as a transit liaison officer.
The feeling of powerlessness was more excruciating than the injury on his leg, so much so that he almost forgot how to wield a gun and swing an axe.
Bai Haorui did not raise his head, his fingertips were still twisting the silver needle steadily, but his tone was firm. "Whether it will hold you back or not, you will know when the time comes. Your brain and the experience of hunting monsters accumulated in half a lifetime are more effective than ten young hunters who can only rush forward. If we really take action, I will have to rely on you to guide me."
Bobby didn't say anything, but he couldn't help but pull up the corners of his mouth.
He turned away and looked at the sycamore tree outside the window. His rough fingers clenched the edges of the file, and his Adam's apple rolled slightly, not letting the other party see the surging emotions in his eyes.
The midday sun was so bright that it made people's eyes dizzy. The parking lot of Pineview Hotel was noisy, like a large car club. Impala had just stopped, and Dean could be seen at a glance. There were three or four fake black Chevrolet Impalas with colorful "Winchester Family Shuangsha" stickers on their bodies. Some even had exorcism symbols painted on the doors, which were crooked and horrible to look at.
"Holy shit." Dean cursed and unbuckled his seatbelt with disgust, "These people are too into it? If you don't know, you might think we are engaging in a pyramid scheme." He stared at the "Dean is my husband" sticker on the butt of one of the cars, and the corners of his mouth twitched, and his face couldn't bear to look at it.
As soon as the two of them walked to the main entrance of the hotel, they saw Chuck pacing back and forth with his back to them, holding his hair in his hands like an ant on a hot pot.
He was wearing a wrinkled plaid shirt, jeans with coffee stains on them, stubble all over his face, and an air of "I'm about to collapse" about him.
"Chuck!" Dean shouted.
Chuck turned around suddenly, and the moment he saw them, his face turned pale and his eyes widened. "Why are you here?!"
Sam frowned even more tightly, stepped forward and put the phone in front of his eyes, his tone filled with anger as if he had been traveling all night. "Didn't you send this? It's a matter of life and death??"
Chuck opened his mouth and was about to defend, when suddenly a scream of surprise came from behind. A girl with brown curly hair and freckles on her face ran over on small leather shoes. She was wearing a dress with printed on it. Wearing a bright pink T-shirt with Sam's avatar, and a necklace surrounding "Supernatural" hanging around his neck, his eyes were as bright as two stars, and he rushed straight in front of Sam, reaching out to pull his arm.
"Sam! You are really here! I knew you had me in your heart! I knew you would definitely come!"
Sam subconsciously took half a step back, with hair on his back and an extremely stiff smile on his lips.
He had not forgotten the way this girl acted infatuatedly towards him last time, her enthusiasm was so overwhelming that it was almost unbearable.
Becky covered his face and laughed for a long time, raising his chin proudly, like a little peacock showing off his trophies. "The text message was sent by me! I took the mobile phone from his pants pocket! The first "Supernatural"" The annual fan conference is held here! There will be a panel discussion on 'The Scared Little Boy: The Secret Life of Dean' at 3:45, a special session on homosexual subtext at 4:30, and a real-life detective game at 7 p. m.! It's awesome!"
Dean's face became darker and darker as he listened. Sam also pursed his lips. The two looked at each other, and both saw the same absurdity in the other's eyes.
They drove all night, their eyes were red, thinking it was some kind of fatal crisis related to Chuck, but it turned out to be a book fans' convention?
It's okay for their lives to be written into books for people's entertainment, but now they actually hold offline carnivals? Their pain, struggle, and lost family members and loved ones have all become the talk topics for others after dinner, and they have become commodities used to make money.
An indescribable anger filled Dean's chest.
The hotel venue was buzzing with people, huge crowds of people, red flags waving, hundreds of fans crowded under the stage, holding books, posters and various peripherals in their hands, whispering excitedly. The spotlight shined on the stage.
The host on the stage held the microphone and his voice was as high as a stimulant. "Next, let us welcome the author of "Supernatural" - Carver Ed Lund!"
Thunderous applause and screams erupted from the audience. Chuck walked onto the stage slowly, his eyes drifting to the back row the whole time, fearing that Sam Dean would rush up to him on the spot and overturn his stage.
The first person to ask a question was a boy wearing glasses, asking about the inspiration for the creation of the character. Chuck hesitated and said, "I suddenly had inspiration one day." He was so perfunctory that even he didn't believe it.
Not long after, a tall man stood up in the back row. He was wearing a long gray trench coat, with light scar makeup on his face. He cosplayed as Hook Man and had a strong German accent. His question was as straightforward as a knife, piercing people's hearts. "I want to ask, why are Sam and in every fight scene?" Dean's gun will always be shot away? Can't you get an elastic cord to hang it? Also, why can't Sam see that Ruby is a bad guy? She is obviously manipulating him and pushing him into the abyss. Isn't this obvious? Why can't Sam see that?"
Chuck stood stunned on the stage, with his mouth open for a long time, unable to say a word, and the sweat on his forehead fell down.
Ruby's matter involved so many inside stories that he couldn't explain it in detail.
Becky exploded on the spot, stood up suddenly and shouted at the man, with a fierce tone like a little hen guarding her young. "If you don't like it, don't watch it! No one is asking you to watch it! Sam That's love! What do you know! You don't understand anything!"
Dean in the back row folded his arms, turned his head and complained to Sam in a low voice, with a bit of schadenfreude in his tone, but also a bit of inexplicable approval. "The German is quite right. What do you mean, let's hang an elastic cord on the gun?"
Sam glanced at him helplessly, did not answer, but clenched his fingertips slightly.
Ruby's incident has always been a thorn in his heart.
He once thought that he was in control of everything, that he was using Ruby, but in the end he discovered that he was the one who was being led around from beginning to end.
Those days when he was blinded and those mistakes he made were engraved on him like a brand, and even strangers could see through his stupidity at a glance.
Until someone asked about the plot of the next book, Chuck seemed relieved, straightened his back and announced, "Thanks to Scandinavia's investors, we are going to publish another book! The next story will be more exciting!"
The audience immediately cheered loudly, and the fans clapped and screamed excitedly, as if they were celebrating some grand festival. Only Dean and Sam stood in the back row, their faces so heavy that water dripped from their faces.
Dean gritted his back molars, cracked his knuckles, and scolded Chuck eight hundred times in his heart. While they were outside desperately trying to stop Apocalypse and save the world, wandering on the edge of life and death every day, this guy was just selling their life stories for money, and the sales became more and more prosperous? Is their suffering so worthy of cheering?
Just after the Q&A session ended, Dean strode into the backstage corridor, followed by Sam with an equally ugly look on his face.
"I said, did you get our approval before you published the book?" Dean crossed his arms, his tone was as cold as ice, and his eyes were like knives piercing Chuck, "Who gave you the right to sell our lives as stories? We are outside risking our lives, and you are here counting money? You are making pretty good money."
Chuck defended with a grimace, his shoulders slumped like a doormat, and his voice was filled with tears. "It was forced by the archangel! I didn't want to! I can't do anything except write this. I have to survive before the end of the world comes, right? This is my only way to survive, what else do you want from me?"
Dean wanted to curse again, but a woman's scream came from upstairs, which was so sharp that it pierced the noise of the venue. Their expressions changed, and they immediately forgot about settling accounts and immediately ran upstairs. Chuck chased after them and tried to stop them, shouting "That's a game! It's an activity!", but they couldn't stop them at all.
When I ran to the third floor, I saw a circle of people gathered in the corridor. A girl dressed as a maid was holding on to the wall and panting, with a deliberately frightened face, and was telling the fans who gathered around her vividly, "I saw Leticia Gore! Standing at the end of the corridor, wearing a white skirt, with wet hair! Her eyes are still bleeding!" People around her exclaimed in agreement, some took out their mobile phones to take pictures, and some excitedly discussed the plot.
The host came over with a microphone and deliberately lowered his voice and told the rules of the game: Find the bones of Leticia and win a fifty-dollar gift card. I wish everyone good luck and be careful not to get caught.
Dean breathed a sigh of relief and rolled his eyes hugely - the real-life detective game started, and Bai was nervous for a long time.
"Let's go down and have a drink." He tugged on Sam's arm, with a hint of anger in his tone, "Let these people play slowly."
The two turned and walked to the bar downstairs. As soon as they turned the corner of the corridor, they bumped into two boys. The taller one had shoulder-length brown hair, wore a dark blue flannel shirt, and held a plastic toy EMF meter in his hand, pretending to be Sam; The shorter boy was wearing a black leather jacket, with his chin raised high, looking carefree, and he was pretending to be Dean. The two of them were holding toy instruments and pretending to be shaking them, and they were mumbling words to imitate the tone of conversation between the two brothers.
Dean raised his eyebrows, folded his arms and mocked. "Are you playing live role-playing? The props are quite complete."
Demian, who was pretending to be Dean, rolled his eyes, pulled his companion Barnes away, and murmured as he walked, "Who is this person? He is pretending to be just like the real thing. I'm afraid he is not stupid."
Dean was choked, laughed angrily, and showed his hands to Sam: "We are real people here, and no one believes it? What is this?"
As soon as I walked to the door of the bar, I heard the angry voice of a man, with a cry that could not be suppressed, "Let me say it for the last time, there is really a ghost upstairs! A real ghost! He is not an actor!"
The boy's name is Alex. He still has scratches on his face, a big tear in his sleeves, his whole body is shaking, his forehead is covered in cold sweat, and his pupils are dilated due to fear. His friend is still trying to persuade him, patting him on the shoulder and saying that he must be an actor hired by the event, and the acting is too realistic, so he should not get too involved in the drama.
The smile on Dean's face dropped instantly. He and Sam looked at each other, and both saw alertness in each other's eyes. The shock in the boy's eyes was not fixed, but he was really scared - this place is really haunted, not a game.
The two people immediately went to the hotel manager to verify the legend. The manager looked through old files and told them that in 1909, this place was Gore Orphanage. Dean Leticia Gore killed four boys and then committed suicide. It has been haunted for hundreds of years.
Today happens to be the centenary anniversary of the tragedy, and the organizers specially chose this place to hold a real-life detective game.
Sam frowned even more after hearing this and asked, "Four boys? Are their names and causes of death included in the information? Are there detailed autopsy records?"
"Yes, they all say that she was killed by the dean." The manager scratched his head and pulled out a stack of old yellowed documents. "I don't know the details. They are all opinions passed down by the elders. It is said that they all died miserably. The most miserable thing was her own son, whose scalp was peeled off."
Sam took the document and flipped through it quickly. His fingertips paused at the line "All four victims were killed with sharp weapons." A hint of doubt arose in his heart. If Leticia was the one who killed them, why was there such a particularly cruel and special method of "scalping"?
Dean was impatient to read the document and patted Sam on the shoulder, "Go up and have a look first. Whatever it is, find the bones and burn them and that's it."
The two stepped on the wooden board of Busty Asian Beauties. Busty Asian Beauties. It creaked when they stepped on it. The musty smell mixed with dust hit their faces, making their throats tighten.
The light was also very dim, with only a few rays of light leaking from the broken skylight, casting mottled shadows on the ground.
Sam took out a real EMF meter and just opened it, the pointer hit the head instantly and made a harsh buzzing sound.
"The reaction is very strong." Sam looked solemn and turned the instrument in another direction. The pointer was still at the maximum value. "There is really a ghost, and there is more than one."
Dean clicked his tongue and said in an irritable tone, "There is really a ghost, and there are a bunch of fools pretending to be us wandering around here. This will definitely not get better. Find the bones quickly and burn them, so as to avoid a long night of dreaming."
On the other side, Barnes and Demian also sneaked into Busty Asian Beauties and were bickering in low voices.
"Slow down, the floor doesn't look strong. If it collapses, we will both fall."
"What are you afraid of? It's just a game. It's quite realistic. The musty smell is just like the real thing. The prop team has worked hard."
Suddenly, a little boy's faint voice floated over, with a cry and a thin voice, "Help us..."
Barnes was startled, then relaxed, and praised into the darkness, "The makeup is very good, very professional. The voice is also very similar."
Demian squatted down in amusement, imitating Dean's tone and asked, "Child, where are your bones? Tell us and we will help you."
The little boy pointed at the old oil painting on the wall, and his figure disappeared in an instant. The two excitedly stepped forward to take the painting off, and saw dried dark red handprints on the back of the frame. There was an old yellowed map sandwiched in the frame, with a location circled in red pen.
The two of them thought it was a game prop and were so happy that they ran downstairs with the map in hand, completely unaware of other abnormal details.
And deep in Busty Asian Beauties, Dean and Sam bumped into another little boy. The child huddled in the corner, with his back to them, whispering "My mother loves me" in a soft voice, with a sense of grievance.
Just as the two were about to approach, the boy slowly raised his head. His entire scalp had been ripped off, and his flesh and blood were blurred. His white skull was exposed, with strands of blood and broken hair stuck to it, and black and red blood dripping from his eyes.