It is Crowley.
"Don't be so angry." Crowley spread his hands and took two steps forward with an innocent face, "We have to talk."
"Talk?" Dean took a step forward, gritting his teeth and clenching his knuckles, "When you gave us Colt gun, you knew that thing couldn't kill Lucifer, right? You deliberately let us die! Use us as gunmen!"
"I swear, I really thought that gun barrel was useful." There was no apology on Crowley's face, and his tone was as relaxed as talking about the weather, "This is a process of trial and error. Who would have thought that the old guy Lucifer is so high-level. But now the situation has not changed, we are still together - I still want to kill that devil."
"A group of people?" Sam sneered and punched Crowley in the face.
However, the fist passed through the opponent's shadow, and Crowley instantly flashed behind him, with a joking tone in his tone. "Hey, hey, a gentleman talks but never moves his hands."
"Don't be excited, don't be excited." He walked back to the two of them, straightened his suit jacket, and showed just the right amount of embarrassment on his face, "The situation is different now, Lucifer knows that I want to rebel against him, and now I am being The whole Hell wanted me, like a bereaved dog. They burned my house and confiscated my property, even my tailor. I hid for two months, hiding in the cracks of the rocks like a broken lizard."
Dean folded his arms, without any sympathy on his face. "It's none of our business. You call evil being punished."
"It's none of your business." Crowley nodded, his tone suddenly became serious, and his eyes stopped joking, "But I can help you find Pestilence."
Sam raised his head suddenly, a trace of surprise flashed in his eyes, and then he was filled with vigilance.
Dean also frowned and weighed it quickly in his mind.
Cooperating with the devil is tantamount to seeking skin from a tiger, but they really don't have a clue at the moment. If they delay it, they don't know how many towns will suffer.
"Is this interesting?" Dean raised his chin, "Do you know where Pestilence is?"
"I don't know exactly where Pestilence is, but I know there is a demon who knows." Crowley said slowly, holding his hands behind his back, "That guy is Four Horsemen's follower, in charge of their schedule, chores, and material dispatch. To put it bluntly, he is a groom. His name is Brady. If you catch him, you can find out the exact location of Pestilence."
"How to make him talk? Pull out his nails? Fill him with holy water?" Dean raised his eyebrows.
"For a demon of his level, it's useless to try hard." Crowley shook his head, "He signed a soul contract with Pestilence, and he will self-destruct if he is tortured, and nothing will come out at that time. You have to fish him out, and I will talk to him. I have been doing business for hundreds of years, and I can fool even saints, but I can't deal with a little devil?"
The two brothers looked at each other and saw hesitation in each other's eyes. But the reality was before them, and they had no better choice.
"Send me the hiding address." Dean finally spoke, "We'll think about it."
Crowley smiled and snapped his fingers, "Wise choice. There is an abandoned hut in the suburbs. The address is on your mobile phone. See you in the afternoon."
After saying that, he turned into a plume of black smoke and disappeared, just as abruptly as when he came, leaving only a faint smell of sulfur in the air.
Dean cursed and kicked the tire hard, making a dull sound from the rubber, "Damn it."
Sam stood aside and said nothing, but his heart skipped a beat.
Brady... Why does this name sound so familiar?
It seems... when he was in college, his first roommate was named Brady.
Impossible. He shook his head. It must be the same name. There are many people named Brady in the world.
But the uneasiness in my heart fell to the ground like a seed and quietly sprouted.
The all-glass curtain wall of the Niveus Pharmaceuticals building in the city center glows coldly in the sun.
The building is decorated in an elegant style, and the corridors are covered with thick carpets, which are silent when stepped on, but there is a very faint smell of decay floating in the air, hidden under the smell of disinfectant and perfume, which can be ignored if you are not paying attention.
In the high-rise conference room, Brady sat in the main seat, tapping the smooth mahogany conference table with his fingertips. He was about thirty years old, with short dark brown hair that was meticulously groomed. His silver-gray custom-made suit fit his body shape, and his cuffs were dark gold cufflinks. His fingers were long and slender, and his nails were neatly trimmed.
He has a handsome face, showing neat white teeth when he smiles, but there is no warmth in his eyes, like a poisonous snake hiding in the grass, with deadly fangs hidden under the calm surface.
"The laboratory hasn't finished testing yet?" He raised his eyes and glanced at the department director standing below. His tone was not high, but there was an undeniable sense of oppression. "That is your business. What I want is an unprecedented large-scale distribution. Now the whole country is afraid of swine flu. They want vaccines. They need vaccines. This is called demand. All we have to do is supply."
"We have tried our best, Mr. Brady." The supervisor below said tremblingly, with cold sweat on his forehead, "But the vaccine process..."
"Try your best?" Brady sneered and slammed the table. With a bang, everyone in the conference room shuddered. "Then try your best! Find someone more capable to do it! If you can't do it, get out. There are many people who want to sit in your seat."
The meeting broke up unhappily, and everyone filed out with their heads lowered. No one dared to stay a second longer.
Not long after, a young employee named Mitchell knocked on the door of Brady's office. He was in his twenties, wearing black-rimmed glasses, with a student look on his face. He stood in front of his desk with a face full of anxiety, and he didn't know where to put his hands.
"You're looking for me?"
"Mitchell, come in and sit down." Brady put on a kind smile on his face, pointed to the chair opposite, and said in a friendly tone, "I know how important this matter is. If there was any offense in the previous meeting, I apologize to you."
"It's okay, it's okay." Mitchell waved his hands flattered, his face turned red from nervousness.
"Actually, I'm looking for you because I have a position in the public relations department, and I think you're particularly suitable." Brady stood up with a smile, walked around behind him, and spoke in a softer voice, "Real management, the kind that's exciting enough, triple your salary, do you want to give it a try?"
"Great! Thank you, Mr. Brady!" Mitchell was about to turn around with a face full of surprise, when the paper knife in Brady's hand had already wiped his throat neatly.
Blood spattered on the desk. Mitchell didn't even utter a scream. He made a whooshing sound in his throat and fell softly to the ground. His eyes were still wide open, with surprise and astonishment that did not dissipate.
Brady frowned in disgust, took out a tissue and wiped the blood on his hands, doing it slowly and without even a trace of panic.
He placed the metal cup containing blood on the table. The outer wall of the cup was engraved with dense demonic runes. The blood in the cup slowly bubbled. A swarm of black flies emerged from the blood, buzzing around the office with a rotten atmosphere.
"The results of the vaccine trial are very good, quite shocking, you must be satisfied." Brady bowed to the cup and spoke in a respectful tone as if he were facing a monarch, "But for such a large-scale distribution, we need more manpower, and we can't rely solely on possession. There are also those people in the union, it is impossible to say, it is very troublesome."
There was a vague hum from the cup, like the sound of countless insects flapping their wings, which made people's scalp numb - that was Horseman Pestilence's response.
Brady's face became a little darker, and he lowered his head and replied, "I know, I will try my best... Yes, I will find someone more capable. It will definitely not delay the nationwide launch in three days."
After hanging up the "phone", the flies in the cup instantly dispersed and turned into blood again and sank.
Brady kicked the body on the ground and said coldly to the door, "Take this away and deal with the rest later. Be careful not to rub my shoes."
People outside responded and dragged the body away, and the office quickly returned to clean and tidy, as if nothing had happened.
After everyone had left, Brady opened the bottom drawer of his desk and took out a yellowed photo. The photo was taken at the gate of Stanford's school during his freshman year. Three young boys stood with their arms around each other, on the left Sam has a green face and a shy smile. In the middle is himself, holding Sam's shoulders and smiling openly. Bai Haorui on the right is wearing a black hoodie, with a faint smile at the corner of his mouth, clear eyes, and a youthful look all over his body.
Brady tapped his fingertips on Bai Haorui's face in the photo, with a malicious smile on his lips.
"Long time no see, Sam. And you, Bai Haorui... I didn't expect you to become the god of death in the mouth of ordinary demons."
He still remembers the time during Halloween in his freshman year, when three people teamed up to play in a haunted house. At that time, Bai Haorui was just a bolder ordinary student. He walked at the front and did not change his expression when encountering scary traps. He even turned around and pulled Sam. At that time, he thought this kid was quite interesting. He was clean and free of any evil spirits.
It's good now that he has become a famous Eastern monk on the road, and his hands can't be washed clean of the devil's blood.
But so what?
It's not like he was fooled around in the same way.
Sam's life has been scripted since the day he moved into the dormitory as a roommate in his freshman year. From meeting Jessie to walking into Yellow-Eyed Demon's trap step by step, it was all arranged. Even if there were one more Bai Haorui, the ending would not be changed.
He put the photo back in the drawer, straightened the collar of his suit, and pressed the intercom. "Notice down, lab progress report at two o'clock in the afternoon."
This is an abandoned hut located on the edge of the woods in the suburbs, surrounded by weeds half a person's height. The windows are boarded up, the wooden door is ajar, and discarded tires and rusty iron barrels are piled in the yard.
The room had a strong damp and musty smell, the floorboards creaked when stepped on, the fireplace had long since been broken, there were piles of broken wood and garbage, and there were a few dark green mold spots growing in the corners of the walls.
Bai Haorui arrives ten minutes earlier than Dean and Sam.
He did not enter directly, but stood under the shade of the tree at the entrance of the courtyard, closed his eyes, and the Lotus Seal between his eyebrows glowed slightly with a pale golden light. The Divine Sense was like a large invisible net, spreading instantly along the ground, walls, and air, and the movements and energy fluctuations within a hundred meters of radius were all clearly reflected in his mind.
Three listening runes hidden in the cracks in the wall, painted with devil's blood, are faintly emitting energy; a tracking array is buried under the threshold, and the array's eye is a black stone, which can locate people entering and exiting; on the bricks behind the fireplace, there is a small sacrificial array carved on it, which can summon the low-level Hellhound - all the work of Crowley.
Bai Haorui sneered, opened his eyes, and picked up the purple-gold True Gang with his fingertips, which was as thin as a hair, but with sharp evil-destroying power.
With a flick of his fingertips, three True Gang shots were fired at three corners. The monitoring runes in the cracks in the wall were instantly annihilated, and not even a bit of black smoke came out, making no sound.
Then he raised his foot and touched the threshold, and a True Gang drilled into the ground. There was only a slight "click" sound, and the stones buried in the soil were directly shaken to pieces, and the tracking array was instantly disabled.
Finally, he walked to the fireplace, squatted down, and a tiny golden fire glowed on his fingertips - it was the ember of Samadhi True Fire. He pressed his fingertips lightly on the bricks engraved with the sacrifice formation, and the golden flames spread along the lines. In just one second, the entire formation was burned cleanly, and even the scratches on the bricks melted away, leaving no trace.
After doing all this, he leaned against the door frame, folded his arms and waited.
The sun shines on his face through the leaves, bright and clear. He looks calm, but in his heart he is thinking about the purpose of Crowley.