The late autumn morning light, with its chilly chill, passed through the cracks in the brushed cotton and linen curtains of Bobby's guest room, casting a slender golden mark on the floor.
The air is mixed with the smell of old wood, turpentine and a touch of herbs, a smell unique to the Bobby family, mixed with smoke from fireworks.
Qiao was lying on his side on the bed, his wound had been replaced with clean gauze, but his breathing was still trembling.
Bai Haorui was sitting on the wooden chair next to the bed, with his palms placed on the back of her heart to her anus, her eyes were slightly closed, and there was an almost invisible purple-gold shimmer on her fingertips.
This was the seventh day of his practice according to the method of "warming and nourishing the meridians" in "Three Altars Body-Refining True Fire Art". The True Gang in the Dantian slowly flowed out along the Laogong point in the palm of his hand. It was not as violent as the flames when facing the enemy, but turned into a warm current as fine as a spider web, and penetrated into the depths of the internal organs little by little along the meridians of Qiao's spine.
The purple-gold True Fire is hidden in the core of True Gang. It is not very hot but has strong penetrating power. Like melting snow in spring, it slowly dissolves the last bit of blood clot accumulated in the gaps of the organs, and then brings out the poison along with the circulation of Qi and blood. At the same time, it gently repairs Qiao's torn mucosa and damaged meridians.
Qiao's originally pale and almost transparent cheeks slowly turned a light color of blood as True Gang walked around. His frown gradually relaxed, and even his breathing became much calmer.
Bai Haorui's forehead slowly seeped out beads of sweat, sliding down his jawline and dripping on his clothes.
The old injury on his back has not healed yet, and he has consumed a lot of True Gang from working hard for days. At this moment, the wound under the fabric of his clothes quietly opened a little, and a small patch of light red blood stained on the dark gray shirt.
But his fingertips remained motionless, and he didn't even frown. It was not until the last trace of congestion was completely dissolved and Qiao's meridians were confirmed to be unobstructed that he slowly stopped the exercise. The moment he retracted his fingertips, he couldn't help turning his head and coughing twice. His fingertips grazed the corner of his mouth, and there was a little red blood foam on it.
Ellen, who was leaning on the door frame, saw this and took two steps forward to hand over a glass of warm water.
The gauze on her forehead has been removed, and there is a light pink scar above the left eyebrow bone. With her neat short hair and calm eyes, not only does she not look embarrassed, but she looks a bit more cheerful.
Her voice was hoarse from years of smoking, and her tone was deep. "Thank you, Haorui. Qiao and I owe our lives to you."
Bai Haorui took the water cup, his fingertips were lukewarm, and he shook his head. "We are all our own people, why are you talking about this? Just rest for two days and the meridians will completely grow. Don't use force or injure the wound in the last half month, and it will be fine."
At this time, Qiao also sat up and moved his waist and abdomen. There was only a slight soreness in his back, and there was no longer the tearing pain.
She had a few strands of hair loose from her ponytail, and her eyes were bright and cheerful with a youthful look. She looked past Bai Haorui and landed on Dean who was pulling breakfast in the living room. She walked forward and tapped her fingertips on the table, her tone a little Smile: "Hey, Dean, let me tell you something. My mother and I have agreed that once I am completely healed, I will go and support other hunters - several of my mother's old friends have been lost in Apocalypse, and there is a shortage of manpower everywhere."
Dean paused with the fork in his hand, the bacon on the plate was still steaming.
He looked up, worry and reluctance mixed together in his eyes, his Adam's apple twitched, and he held back a sentence for a long time. "So urgent? Why don't you rest for two more days?"
Qiao raised her eyebrows and smiled at the corner of her mouth, "What, you can't bear to part with me?" Seeing that Dean was a little speechless, she smiled and added, "I'll make a promise with you. Wait until Apocalypse is over, Lucifer The grandson was beaten back to Hell, please treat me to a serious dinner, and don't fool people with cheeseburgers. When the time comes... should we try it?"
Dean suddenly raised his head, his eyes were stunned at first, and then a small burst of light exploded, and was quickly suppressed by the weight of the doomsday. He twitched the corner of his mouth, pretending to be relaxed and raised his chin. "It's a deal. Whoever goes back on his word will be his grandson."
No one can explain the uncertainty in their heart. Apocalypse is so vast and the devil is rampant, no one knows whether they can survive until that day.
But this little fluttering agreement, like a small spark in the dark night, burned out a little bit of hope in the boundless despair.
In the morning, Ellen and Qiao packed their luggage and said goodbye to everyone one by one.
Ellen patted Bobby's arm. The two old hunters who had fought side by side for decades did not say any pretentious words. They only said three words: "See you alive."
Qiao hugged Sam, waved to Bai Haorui, and finally jumped into their off-road vehicle, the engine roared, and the dust flew away.
Dean leaned against the car door of Impala, his fingertips unconsciously rubbing the cold door handle, watching the car shadow disappear at the end of the road, and said nothing for a long time.
Sam stood next to him, not teasing him, and rarely accompanied him quietly - every farewell the hunters said might be their last.
At this moment, Sam's cell phone suddenly rang.
The caller was their nanny when they were young. They said that their distant nephew died very strangely. He was locked in a closed bedroom and strangled to death. There were not even half a fingerprint at the scene. He wanted to ask them to come over and take a look.
Dean immediately calmed down, the laxity around him instantly faded away, and he turned back into the decisive hunter. "Okay, pack your things and set off in the afternoon."
The two turned around to look for Bai Haorui, only to see him moving spells and medicinal materials into the basement of Bobby's house, with a mahogany sword wrapped in cloth and slung across his back.
Bai Haorui raised his eyes to look at them and said in a calm tone, "I won't go this time. I just want to take advantage of these few days to retreat and completely refine the dark energy Lucifer left in the meridians, and adjust my breath to stabilize my cultivation. Be careful when you go to handle the case."
He handed Dean three stacks of drawn yellow talismans. The talisman paper had a faint smell of cinnabar and sulfur. "These three stacks of talismans can be crushed when in danger. They can block an attack from a high-level evil spirit. If you have anything to do, call Bobby. Divine Sense will be weaker during my retreat. If there is an emergency, just burn this communication talisman."
Dean took the charm and stuffed it into the inner pocket of his jacket. He raised his hand and patted his shoulder. "Don't hold on, just ask if you need help."
Bobby leaned against the basement door with a cigar in his mouth, sparks flickering in the wind. "Don't worry, I will keep an eye on you at home. If you are unsure about anything, call anytime."
Impala drove for more than three hours on the late autumn road and arrived at the town where the crime occurred in the afternoon. Most of the sycamore leaves on the roadside had turned yellow, and they fell rustlingly when the wind blew. The gray sky made the town particularly dull.
The old single-family house where the crime occurred is on the edge of the town. It is an old Victorian building with peeling exterior walls, overgrown weeds in the yard, and yellow warning tapes that swayed in the wind.
Dean carried the forged federal ID and opened the screen door of the porch. The creaking sound was particularly clear in the quiet house. The soles of his boots stepped on the old wooden floor, and each step was steady. His eyes quickly scanned the furnishings in the living room - the dusty lace curtains, the peeling paint wooden dining table, and the yellowed family photos hanging on the wall. Everything was extremely ordinary.
The deceased was a strong man in his thirties. The body had been carried away, leaving only a white outline and deep strangulation marks on his neck with a Mark pen. Dean squatted down and compared the outline with his fingertips. The width of the choke marks, his brows furrowed slightly. "The distance between the knuckles was very wide, and the force was so strong that the trachea was crushed directly." He raised his head and looked at Sam, "The doors and windows were locked from the inside, and there was no sign of prying on the locks, and the windows were closed tightly. This is not a technique that a living person can do."
Sam squatted next to him, flipping through the record book of the on-site police officer in his hand, and ran his fingertips across the page. "The deceased's name was Hank Dawson. He lived alone. He was found dead by his neighbor last Wednesday night. No property was missing. He has no enemies, and people in the town say he is an honest man." He paused and rubbed a little black ash on the carpet with his fingertips, "There are no salt lines, no traces of spells, and no smell of sulfur. It's not a devil or a witch, more like a ghost."
"It's what I thought." Dean stood up and patted the dust on his knees, "Look up the history of this house, go back fifty or a hundred years, and see if there are any unjust deaths. Find the bones, dig them out and burn them clean. With the normal process, we can finish the work in two days."
Sam nodded, put the record book into his bag, but subconsciously glanced at the street corner outside the window.
When he just walked in, he vaguely felt a line of sight sticking to his back, like a needle, but when he looked over, there were only swaying sycamore leaves and an empty sidewalk.
He suppressed the strange feeling in his heart and thought it was because Apocalypse was too nervous about the recent affairs and his nerves were too sensitive. He closed the book and looked at Dean: "Let's go to the restaurant in town to have something to eat. I'll check the old newspapers and obituary files of this house to see if I can find any clues."
After the two figures turned the corner and disappeared, the branches and leaves of the bushes on the roadside moved, and the heads of the two teenagers poked out.
Walking in front is Gary Foley, seventeen years old, a sophomore in high school, as thin as a bean sprout, with a large blue and white school uniform hanging on his body. He has short, floppy light brown hair, black-rimmed glasses slid to the tip of his nose, and his eyes behind the lenses are astonishingly bright, staring intently. He was looking in the direction where the two brothers disappeared, his chest heaving violently, and he held a black magic book with a worn cover tightly in his arms, his knuckles turning white from the exertion. That was Brother Winchester! The legendary demon hunter he had heard about in the gossip news and various comments on the Internet.
The Trevor next to him was much taller and stronger, with a neat figure, a youthful look on his face, a piece of dogtail grass in the corner of his mouth, and a face full of impatience.
He stretched out his hand and tugged at the back collar of Gary's school uniform, and pulled him back. His voice was very low, but with unconcealable greed. "Have you seen enough? The devil has said that we have to get it done tonight. If you give up, neither of us will get the benefits - money, superpowers, it's all in vain."
Gary suddenly came back to his senses, pressed the magic book tighter into his arms, his Adam's apple rolled, his eyes were both nervous and uncontrollably excited. "I'm not scared. I'll do it in the restaurant in the afternoon as planned."
Half an hour later, there was a small street restaurant in the center of the town.
The warm yellow light barely covered the gloom outside the window, the tile floor was a bit sticky, and the aroma of French fries and burgers floated in the air, mixed with the burnt and bitter smell of inferior coffee.
The two brothers were sitting in a booth by the window. In front of Dean were two finished hamburger wrappers piled up. They picked up the coffee and took a sip. They immediately wrinkled their faces and complained, "This thing tastes worse than the boiling water from the gas station. Is there anything that can be eaten in this small town?"
Sam did not answer the call. The laptop was placed in front of him. The screen was lit up with scanned copies of old newspapers. He was sliding the mouse with his fingertips. His attention was entirely on the obituary column between fifty and one hundred years ago. He was completely unaware that the eyes of the three high school students at the next table were drifting here repeatedly.
Sitting at the next table are Gary, Trevor and Nora. Nora is a quiet blond girl with long hair tied into a low ponytail. Her hair was a little naturally curly, her face was dotted with light freckles, her fingers were twisting the skirt of her school uniform, her eyes were timid, she would glance at the Winchester Brothers table from time to time, and then quickly look back, her face full of uneasiness.
Gary sat upright, with his back stretched into a straight line, and the magic book in his arms made his ribs ache through his school uniform.
He secretly glanced at Sam not far away - he was facing the light sideways, his face was clean and sharp, his fingertips were sliding over the mouse quickly, his brows were slightly furrowed, he was focused and calm, exactly like what was said in the forum, he was smart, powerful, and lived a legendary life that licked blood from the edge of a knife.
Think about yourself again. Every day you just go to class, take exams, listen to your parents nagging about your grades, never finish the test papers, and never get into the ideal university. Your life is as dull as a glass of boiled water, without even a hint of color.
Why can they live such a wonderful life? Why do I have to be trapped in this broken town? Jealousy and yearning wrapped around his heart like vines, getting tighter and tighter, squeezing out the last bit of reason.
Trevor bumped him hard with her elbow, tilted her eyes towards the bathroom, and had an impatient smile on her lips, gesturing for him to take action quickly.
Nora sat next to him and opened his mouth to say something, but when he saw Trevor's warning eyes, he swallowed his words again and twisted his fingers even tighter.
Gary took a deep breath, stood up with the magic book in hand, pretended to go to the bathroom, and walked around to the back door of the restaurant.
The back alley was dimly lit, with several trash cans piled up, exuding a faint sour smell, and the wall peeling off to reveal the blue bricks inside.
He took out the white chalk, squatted on the ground, and quickly drew the body-changing circle according to the diagram in the magic book. His fingertips were shaking slightly due to nervousness, and he drew two wrong runes. His palms were all sweaty.
Every time he finished drawing a rune, the thought in his mind became more determined: as long as he changed his body, he could get rid of this boring life and become a powerful person like Sam·Winchester.
In the restaurant, Sam read the last page of the file, closed the computer and stood up. Dean looked up and asked, "Where are you going?"
"Walking around the back alley," Sam picked up his coat and put it on his arm, "The file just mentioned that the deceased used to store things in the back alley. I'm going to see if there are any old items left behind. Maybe I can find the source of the obsession."
Dean waved his hand, grabbed the fries on the table and stuffed them into his mouth.
There were several trash cans half as tall as a person piled up in the back alley. The smell of sour rot mixed with dust hit our nostrils. The wind poured in from the entrance of the alley, making the waste paper on the ground swirl and dance.
Sam As soon as he walked to the middle of the alley, he stepped on fine chalk dust under his feet. He lowered his head and glanced at it. Just as he felt a sense of vigilance, he suddenly felt a sharp sting on the back of his neck.
He groaned, suddenly raised his hand to touch the back of his neck, and his fingertips touched a small plastic needle. The force of the anesthetic spread extremely quickly, numbness spread rapidly along the back of his neck, his limbs instantly became as soft as if they were filled with lead, his vision began to blur, and his ears buzzed.
He subconsciously wanted to touch the gun on his lower back, but he couldn't lift his arm at all. His body stumbled forward two steps uncontrollably, and his knees softened and he almost fell to his knees.
In the last few seconds when his consciousness disappeared, he saw the thin boy in school uniform standing behind the trash can, holding a yellowed ancient book in his hand and chanting obscure Latin incantations. A strange dark yellow halo rose from the magic circle on the ground and enveloped his whole body like a tide. A spinning weightlessness hit him and he completely lost consciousness.
In the woods on the outskirts, the young man's body suddenly opened his eyes.
Sam sat up on the wet mud floor, his head felt as if he had been hit by a heavy object, and there was still a stinging sensation on the back of his neck. He raised his hand to rub his temples, but the moment his eyes fell on his hand, his whole body froze.
It was a completely unfamiliar hand.
Slender and thin, with a few unwashed pen marks on the knuckles, a few small light brown moles scattered on the back of the hand, the nails cut short, the palm of the hand soft, not even a thin callus - this is definitely not his hand.
Sam has been holding guns, flipping through books, and practicing fighting all year round. His palms and knuckles have long been worn away by thick calluses, and his hands are also slightly larger than this.
His heart sank suddenly, as if he had fallen into an ice cellar. He hurriedly raised his hand to touch his face, and his fingertips touched his smooth lower jaw with a little baby fat. The soft hair hanging down from his forehead rubbed his forehead, and the touch was terrifyingly unfamiliar.
He opened his mouth and tried to shout "Dean", but what came out was a young boy's voice that was hoarse during the voice change period, so thin and hoarse that he was stunned for a moment.
Panic instantly overwhelmed him like a tidal wave. He lowered his head and looked at his body: a white-washed blue and white school uniform jacket, a gray crew-neck sweatshirt underneath, skinny jeans that stretched across his legs, narrow shoulders, and his whole body was so thin that it didn't grow.
He searched his pockets all over his body, but they were all empty - no cell phone, no gun, no wallet, not even a folding knife.
Bone-chilling panic crawled up his spine. He leaned against the tree trunk, gasping for air and forcing himself to calm down.
He had seen body-changing magic in ancient books before, but he never thought it would happen to him.
The first thought was not what to do on my own, but Dean--Dean was still in the restaurant, and the "Sam" next to him was a stranger. Since the other party could attack him accurately, he would definitely not let go of Dean.
What made his back even more chilly was that the other party chose him, Sam·Winchester. Nine times out of ten, it was the devil who was causing trouble.
He gritted his teeth and stood up, holding on to the tree trunk. His legs were still a little weak. The physical strength of his body was so poor that he felt weak even after taking two steps.
He clenched his fingertips tightly, digging his nails into his palms, using the pain to stay awake. He couldn't panic, it would be all over if he panicked now.
The top priority is to find Dean, find the boy who took his body, and replace it with his body. He identified the direction and walked toward the town based on his memory. The rotten leaves under his feet made a rustling sound, making the woods especially quiet.
In the restaurant, Gary, who occupied Sam's body, looked down at his hands, feeling the power contained in his tall body, and couldn't help but raise the corners of his mouth.
This is the body of Sam! With broad shoulders and powerful arms, you can feel the strength of the muscles whenever you make a fist. It is a hundred times stronger than his bean sprout body.
He straightened his coat, walked back to the restaurant deliberately slowly, straightened his back when he opened the door, and frowned slightly like Sam in his impression. But as soon as he sat in the booth, his secret was revealed: he reached out and grabbed Dean raised his head and took a big sip from the Coke cup in front of him. The cold bubbles slid down his throat, making him squint his eyes with pleasure. Then he grabbed a handful of French fries and stuffed them into his mouth. He chewed them loudly and the corners of his mouth were stained with salt particles.
Dean paused holding the coffee cup, raised his eyes and glanced at him, frowning slightly.
Something's wrong. Something's so wrong!
Sam would never touch anything he drank casually, let alone grab French fries and eat them like a starving ghost reincarnated - this kid always eats slowly. Moreover, Sam hates drinking cola, saying that the sugar content is too high, so he only drinks black coffee.
"Did you find anything at the alley?" Dean wiped his hands and pretended to ask casually, but his eyes were firmly locked on his face.
Gary's mouth was full and he shook his head vaguely. "No, it's nothing, just some old garbage. I didn't find anything."
Dean's eyebrows furrowed even more tightly.
Sam Even if no clues are found, he will clearly explain which areas have been investigated and what possibilities have been ruled out. He will never explain it in such a perfunctory manner.
A strange feeling flashed through his mind, but then he thought again, Apocalypse's recent affairs have been overwhelming, Lucifer, demons, angels, a bunch of shit, Sam is under a lot of pressure, and it's normal for him to be in a bad state.
He suppressed the doubts in his heart and didn't ask any more questions.
The two drove to the cemetery to confirm the location of the bones. Gary, who was in the passenger seat, was full of fresh energy. He lay by the car window and looked out. The trees, houses, and pedestrians passing by on the roadside were all interesting.
When passing a girl walking on the roadside, he even whistled a frivolous whistle subconsciously.
Dean's hand on the steering wheel tightened suddenly, and she turned her head to look at him, her eyes filled with absurdity. "Are you okay?"
Gary then realized that his behavior was exposed, he quickly sat up straight, cleared his throat, and pretended to be serious. "It's nothing, I just feel that the weather is really nice today, and I feel more comfortable."
Dean said nothing and restarted the car, but the doubts in his heart were getting thicker and thicker.
Something is wrong, so wrong. This is not the behavior Sam would do at all.
When Gary arrived at the cemetery and picked up the salt bullet gun, his grip on the gun was as unfamiliar as if he was touching a gun for the first time. His finger almost pulled the trigger and almost misfired. Dean stretched out his hand to hold the gun body, his face instantly darkened, his eyes were as sharp as a knife, and he stared at him, as if he wanted to see through him.
"What happened to you today?" Dean's voice was very low, with scrutiny, "You were so happy that you forgot how to hold a gun!?"
Gary panicked, quickly looked away, and made an excuse casually. "I haven't had a good rest recently, and my hands are a little shaky."
Dean stared at him for several seconds, didn't ask any more questions, and let go of his hand.
But his fingertips quietly touched the handle of the dagger behind his waist.
No matter who this person is, he is definitely not Sam.
He couldn't act rashly, because this was Sam's body, and if it got hurt, it would be too late for him to regret it.
Stay put for now and test slowly.
At the same time, in the basement of the backyard of Bobby's house, a circle of Spirit-Gathering Formation was drawn on the ground with cinnabar. Five Five Emperor Coins, which were heavily coated with paste, were placed in the five directions of the array. The copper color was warm and moist, with a faint aura.
Bai Haorui sat cross-legged in the center of the formation, with his back straight, like a vigorous pine tree.
His eyes were slightly closed, and his breathing was long and even. The purple-gold True Gang in his Dantian slowly swam along the twelve main meridians, like a warm stream, washing over and over again the remaining dark energy left by Lucifer on the meridian walls.
The last time he faced Lucifer head-on, the opponent's dark energy penetrated his meridians, like gangrene attached to the bone. If it is not completely refined, it will become a hidden danger sooner or later, and even backfire on himself at a critical moment.
At first, he wanted to use Pure Yang True Fire to burn it directly. He tried it once, but it caused the dark energy to violently counterattack. The conflict between the two phases made his meridians ache.
At this moment, he calmed down, no longer eager for success, and slowly replayed every detail of the battle with Lucifer in his mind.
Dark energy is cold and sticky, the ultimate form of yin; and his Three Altars Body-Refining True Fire is the purest yang, the ultimate form of yang. Yin and yang are mutually reinforcing each other, and it is an either/or situation. If you insist on attacking forcefully, you will fall into the inferior position.
After thinking about this section, he gently picked up Midnight-Noon Hand Seal with his fingertips. The pale golden Lotus Seal between his eyebrows slowly lit up. The pure Power of Faith slowly seeped out from the sea of consciousness and blended with the True Gang in the Dantian.
The purple-gold color True Fire, which was originally as violent as a raging flame, instantly restrained its edge and became warm and long, like the warm sun in spring, wrapping up the dark cold air in the meridians little by little.
The core of "Three Altars Body-Refining True Fire Art" is not just "burning evil", but also "refining oneself".
True Gang circulates slowly in the meridians. Every time it goes around, it refines a point of dark energy and tempers a point of the meridian wall. The meridians, which were originally a little dark, slowly became tough and wide under the warmth of True Fire, and could accommodate more and more True Gang. Bai Haorui closed his eyes, and the understanding in his heart became clearer and clearer.
In the past, his True Gang was as strong as the Yang, with sharp edges and powerful moves. However, its battery life was poor and it was exhausted after a few tough battles. Now that he has refined the cold dark energy, True Gang has a trace of toughness incorporated into it, with both strength and softness. It can be hard or soft when making moves. Not only is its power more stable, but its battery life has more than doubled.
Three Altars Body-Refining True Fire can not only release evil spirits externally, but also refine the body internally. Pure Yang True Fire repeatedly tempers the meridians of the physical body, which not only accelerates wound healing, but also makes the physical body as tough as iron., ordinary swords and low-level demon attacks cannot break through the defense at all. It can even condense True Fire into hair-like thin threads, and release them as you wish, quietly hurting the enemy, and is more flexible than a spell.
His understanding of the rules of yin and yang has deepened. In the past, reversing time magic required the blessing of a large array, but now he can reverse his own energy and blood in a small area, and his healing speed has doubled.
The resistance to illusions and mental toxins has also been greatly improved.
Time passed little by little, and the atmosphere in the quiet room became more and more calm.
Bai Haorui's whole body glowed with a faint purple-gold halo, and True Fire formed a thin layer of fire armor on his body. The temperature was extremely high, but not even the corners of his clothes were burned.
At the moment when the last trace of dark energy in the meridians was completely refined, True Gang in the Dantian shrank suddenly, and then slowly spread out. The level of concentration reached a higher level than before - Middle Stage of Refining Qi into Gang completely stood firm, and had touched the threshold of the later stage.
The few strands of hair on his temples that had turned white due to serious injury and wear and tear, quietly turned black.
At this moment, he Divine Sense moved slightly, and dozens of kilometers away, he vaguely sensed a strong demonic energy coming from the direction of the town, as well as Sam's aura - disordered and dislocated, as if his soul and body were separated.
His heart tightened, knowing that something had happened to the brothers.
But this moment is the key point for stabilizing the cultivation after refining, and it cannot be separated from the body at all. Once it is forcibly interrupted, the cultivation will be regressed at best, and the meridians will be damaged at worst.
However, Sam Dean has grown up a lot and should be able to cope with it. He immediately calmed down his mind, stopped being distracted, and continued to calm down and stabilize his cultivation.
Outside the quiet room, Bobby moved an old wicker chair and sat at the door, wiping a shotgun in his hand. The smell of gun oil spread in the wind.
He glanced in the direction of the quiet room from time to time. Although he didn't understand the ways of monasticism, he could feel that the atmosphere in the courtyard was tense at the beginning, and gradually became calm and heavy, like a mountain, which made people feel at ease.