In the Milwaukee afternoon, the jewelry store's dust cover was only half drawn. Sunlight slipped through and slanted across the glass display cases, making the few remaining silver pieces gleam. A jagged crack had been pried into the glass, and fragments of diamonds and gold jewelry lay scattered over the dark red velvet like beads of congealed blood.
Helena clutched the hem of her work uniform, her eyes swollen red as walnuts. Her voice trembled with tears. "Sherri really did shoot Edgar... but you don't understand. She was the kind of person who'd get upset over stepping on an ant. How could she shoot someone?" Her tears splashed onto the counter, spreading into a small wet patch. "We worked together for ten years. She didn't even dare argue with customers. How could she become a robber?"
Sam wore a dark gray suit, her collar buttoned with meticulous precision and a homemade FBI badge pinned to her chest. He bent his head and scribbled in a notebook, the scratch of the pen unusually clear in the quiet shop. He frowned. "We've seen Sherri's autopsy report. The medical examiner put her time of death at three days before the robbery?"
Helena nodded hard, her shoulders shaking violently as she cried harder. "The police said she killed herself at home. Aren't they contradicting themselves? How could a dead person come rob a jewelry store? And shoot Edgar? It makes no sense! They're crazy. They must be!"
Dean leaned against a nearby display case, one leg casually crossed over the other, twirling a diamond fragment he had picked up off the floor. Its sharp edges dug into his palm, but he seemed oblivious. His gaze settled on Franny, who was fluffing her hair in front of a mirror a short distance away. A roguish smile curled his lips, and he whistled, his voice deliberately flirtatious. "Hey, beautiful. Were you here then too? Did you notice anything off?"
Franny turned, smoothing the loose hair beside her ear. She walked over to Dean and lightly trailed her fingertips across the back of his hand, a little coquettishly, though her voice carried fear. "All I saw were Sherri's eyes... those weren't Sherri's eyes. They were horribly red, like two red-hot lightbulbs. That look in them wasn't hers at all."
In a corner nearby, Bai Haorui stayed out of the conversation. He leaned against the wall, both hands in the pockets of his black outdoor jacket, slowly turning the Five Emperor Coins in his palm. When his fingertip passed over the third coin, a faint blue-black film suddenly spread across its dull copper surface, like an ink stain that would never wash off. It carried a barely perceptible foul smell, like rotting waterweed mixed with rust. Without drawing attention, he walked over to the pried-open safe and gently rubbed the scratches on the lock cylinder. They were rough and chaotic, beyond what human strength could produce. He turned and leaned toward Sam's ear, lowering his voice so only the two of them could hear. "This wasn't human. There's a foul smell in the yin energy-exactly like that Shapeshifter in St. Louis. No mistake."
Sam's gaze sharpened instantly. His pen stopped abruptly, bleeding a small black dot into the notebook. "Then we need silver blades. Shapeshifters shed their skin to change identities. The last one left its shed skin in an abandoned warehouse."
Hearing this, Dean stopped twirling the diamond fragment and clapped Bai Haorui on the shoulder, flashing a white-toothed grin. "Not bad, kid. You're even better than an EMF meter now. Looks like we won't need to bring that thing along anymore."
Bai Haorui rolled his eyes and pocketed the Five Emperor Coins, rubbing his thumb over the hilt of the peachwood sword in his pocket with a touch of disdain. "Cut the crap. Let's check the next crime scene. Keep wasting time flirting here, and the Shapeshifter could rob every bank in Milwaukee."
Helena was still quietly sobbing, while Franny watched them curiously. Bai Haorui glanced at them and sighed inwardly-ordinary people had no idea that the most terrifying thing in this world wasn't a knife-wielding robber, but someone you saw every day suddenly becoming a monster wearing human skin.
Ronald's apartment was in an old residential building. The stairwell reeked of cooking grease mixed with disinfectant, the walls were covered in messy graffiti, and the stair railings were so rusty that a touch left reddish-brown powder all over your hand. As soon as they pushed open the door, the heavy smell of instant noodles and dust hit them, making Dean cough twice.
The apartment was as cramped as a tin can. There was almost nowhere to stand in the living room, with yellowed newspapers, magazines, and printed surveillance stills piled everywhere. Photographs blanketed the walls, question marks circled in red packed side by side, suffocating the entire room. Ronald wore a security uniform washed nearly white, its collar frayed, and black-rimmed glasses with scratched lenses. When he saw the three of them enter, his dull eyes instantly lit up with startling brightness, like a starving wolf spotting prey. He rushed toward them, holding a dog-eared Cyberman magazine whose pages had become fragile from constant handling.
"Look! Come look! It's a man-droid! A half-human, half-machine monster!" His voice was loud and urgent, spittle landing on Sam's suit. "They live in the sewers and survive by robbing people! Juan Morales, Sherri, and the robber who hit National Trust Bank last week-they were all these things in disguise!" He jabbed a finger hard at a picture of a robot in the magazine, his fingertip whitening with the pressure. "They disguise themselves as ordinary people!"
Sam frowned and turned aside to avoid his spittle, her gaze falling on the computer screen. Surveillance footage of Juan Morales was playing. In the black-and-white image, Juan's eyes shone with an eerie red light, glaring in the dark hallway like two ghostly flames. He tried to soothe the agitated man, keeping his voice very gentle. "Mr. Resnick, this could just be glare on the surveillance camera. Sometimes refracted light can cause this sort of thing..."
"Glare?!" Ronald's voice shot up, sharp as fingernails scraping glass. He stabbed a finger at a photograph on the wall so hard that its frame shook. "Juan's dead! The autopsy says he died three days before the robbery! How does a dead man rob a bank? And Sherri too! Tell me, can glare explain that?" His chest heaved, his breathing rapid, like an enraged, trapped beast. "I told my boss. I told the police. They all thought I was crazy! They all think I'm a lunatic!"
Dean stepped forward and patted Ronald's shoulder, cutting off his hysterics. "Buddy, you've done impressive work. These files are really thorough. Mind letting us take a look? We need these leads."
Ronald backed away warily, looking the three of them up and down with suspicion. "Who are you, really? Are you actually FBI? After you contacted me, I checked the FBI's agent list. Neither of you two is on it!" He gripped the Cyberman magazine tightly, his knuckles white. "Are you working with those monsters?"
Dean raised an eyebrow and grinned, pulling out his fake badge and waving it. The reflected light dazzled Ronald's eyes. "What else would we be? You think you can just look up a federal agent's identity? We're a covert operations team. We handle these... special cases."
When they left the apartment, the setting sun was staining the sky orange-red, the clouds burning like masses of flame. Sam couldn't help looking back at the closed wooden door. Dim yellow light leaked through the gap like a watching eye. His voice held a trace of distress, and his steps slowed. "We should tell him the truth. He just wants to prove he isn't crazy. He hasn't done anything wrong."
Dean shook his head without stopping, kicking a small stone out of his path, his voice full of helplessness. "No. An ordinary person getting involved will only get himself killed. We've seen too many people like that, haven't we? That teacher in Kansas who insisted on hunting vampires with us, and that college student who tried to hunt a werewolf and got killed instead. They all thought they were heroes, but they ended up cold corpses, didn't they?"
Bai Haorui followed behind them with his hands in his pockets, spinning a copper coin rapidly in his palm. His gaze settled on a distant sewer cover and darkened, his voice calm. "His obsession runs too deep. Even if he knew it was a monster or an evil spirit, he'd charge in himself. People like him are the most likely to die in supernatural incidents." He remembered Gordon, that equally obsessive hunter who would stop at nothing to kill vampires, and a chill rose inside him-obsession was a weapon that made hunters stronger, but for ordinary people, it was a death warrant.
The motel room was dimly lit. Damp had curled the wallpaper at the corners, exposing mottled cement underneath. The air conditioner hummed noisily, blowing musty air. Sam sat at the creaking wooden table, replaying surveillance footage on the computer, fingers flying over the keyboard, her eyes bloodshot from staring at the screen so long. Dean leaned against the headboard with a beer in his hand, marking red dots on a sewer map. Bai Haorui sat on the edge of the bed, working cinnabar-soaked ink line between his fingers. The cord slipped nimbly through his hands, staining his fingertips red like blood that would never wash away.
"It's a Shapeshifter. We saw one in St. Louis. It sheds its skin to change identities, and silver is its weakness. Pierce its heart with silver, and that'll finish it." Sam pointed at the red light on the screen, his tone certain and his eyes bright.
Bai Haorui looked up and tossed the ink line to Dean, the cord tracing a red arc through the air. Dean caught it, feeling a faint coolness against his fingertips. Bai Haorui's voice held a little confidence. "Not just silver. My peachwood sword and this ink line can handle it too. Its true body fears yang energy, and cinnabar counters yin. It can trap it temporarily and buy you time to strike."
Dean caught the ink line and weighed it in his hand. He pointed at the red dots on the map, strung together like drops of blood linking banks across Milwaukee. "The jewelry store, National Trust Bank, Milwaukee City Bank-they're all along the sewer lines. Its next target has to be here-Milwaukee Central Bank. Thickest vault, biggest haul, and it fits its pattern."
Bai Haorui stood and approached the map, pressing a fingertip against the central bank's location. The cinnabar on his finger left a tiny red dot. "I'll set up a Spirit-Trapping Formation and confine it to a designated area. Don't let it hurt anyone. You stab its true body with the silver knife. Be quick, and don't give it a chance to escape. Sam, watch the cameras and identify who it's become immediately. Don't hurt any ordinary people by mistake."
Dean grinned and winked at Bai Haorui, his eyes teasing. "Relax. I'm probably better at sticking monsters than you are at sticking girls."
Sam ignored their banter. He stared at the red dots on the map and suddenly fell silent, gently rubbing the cover of his notebook, already worn from handling. Bai Haorui recognized what was on his mind and walked over, giving his shoulder a light pat. "Still thinking about Ronald?"
Sam nodded, his eyes full of conflict. "I just feel we shouldn't keep him in the dark. He only wants to prove he isn't crazy. He worked so hard gathering information, and he's so determined to find the truth. We shouldn't lie to him."
Dean put down his bottle and sighed, leaning against the headboard with helplessness in his voice. "Stop thinking about it, Sam. We're hunters. Protecting ordinary people is our responsibility-even if they don't understand, even if they think we're crazy. Some truths are better left unknown."
A brief silence settled over the room, broken only by the hum of the computer fan and occasional car horns outside. Bai Haorui looked at the ink line in his hands, calculating inwardly-tomorrow at the bank would probably be a tough fight. He felt the Clear Heart Talisman and Breaking Illusion Talisman in his pocket. The edges of the paper were slightly rough. He had stayed up late drawing them, and hoped they would prove useful.
Milwaukee Central Bank's surveillance room was dark, with only a dozen or so screens casting a faint blue glow. The shifting light on their three faces resembled ghostly masks.
Sam sat at the surveillance console, fingers racing over the keyboard, eyes fixed unblinking on the screens as the images switched from lobby to hallway, vault to back door. Dean leaned against the doorframe, chewing gum, its cool mint flavor filling his mouth, while toying with the silver knife he had just bought. Bai Haorui stood by the window, holding a Breaking Illusion Talisman. It was made of yellow ritual paper covered in intricate cinnabar symbols, and trembled slightly between his fingertips.
"That's him!" Sam suddenly shouted, a trace of excitement and tension in her voice. She pointed at the bank manager on the screen-the normally friendly man who always wore a smile. An eerie red light flashed through his eyes. Though it vanished instantly, Sam caught it precisely. It was exactly like the red glow in Juan's and Sherri's eyes in the surveillance footage, like two red-hot lightbulbs.
Dean straightened, his chewing stopping. He swallowed the gum and drew the silver knife from his waist, gripping its handle tightly as a cold smile curled his lips. "Game on."
Just then, the bank lobby's lights flickered, as though the voltage had wavered, then returned to normal. Sharp-eyed Sam immediately spotted Ronald outside the entrance on the surveillance feed. He wore his security uniform and held a rifle, its finish mottled with age. He was securing the bank's front doors with a thick, heavy chain, its iron links clanging loudly together.
"Damn it! He's lost his mind!" Dean cursed, his voice full of anger and helplessness, then spun and rushed out as fast as the wind.
Bai Haorui sighed helplessly and drew the peachwood sword tucked at his waist. Its hilt was wrapped in red cord and sat comfortably in his hand. He hurried after Dean, sounding a little annoyed. "Great. There goes the whole plan. I knew that obsessive nut wouldn't stay put."
Sam ran out after them. His heart pounded as though it would leap into his throat, and only one thought filled his mind-nothing must happen, please let nothing happen. He remembered Ava, remembered the girl taken by the Yellow-Eyed Demon, remembered all the ordinary people who had died because of the supernatural. His heart sank abruptly, as though an invisible hand had seized it.
Screams erupted throughout the bank lobby like a pot of boiling water. Customers and employees fled in panic, women's screams, children's cries, and men's curses mingling into chaos. Ronald raised his rifle, aimed at the ceiling, and pulled the trigger. The shot echoed through the open lobby, making everyone's eardrums ache. His roar rang throughout the hall. "Everybody get down! Hands on your heads! Don't move! Anyone moves, I'll shoot them dead!"
Customers and employees went deathly pale, crouching on the floor with their hands over their heads, trembling like leaves. A little girl in a pink dress began bawling in fright. Her mother hurriedly covered her mouth, but couldn't stop her own tears. Ronald swept his gaze over everyone present, as if that alone could uncover the monster hidden among them.
Dean and Sam rushed in straight into Ronald's sights. The dark muzzle pointed at them, radiating coldness. Dean stopped and raised both hands, his voice urgent. "Put the gun down! You shouldn't be here!"
Ronald sneered, his lips curling mockingly and his eyes full of disdain. "FBI? Drop the act. I already know you're fakes. I searched every record. Neither of you agents exists." His gaze fell on the silver knife at Dean's waist, and his eyes suddenly brightened as though he had discovered a new continent. "You're here to catch the man-droid too, aren't you? You knew all along there were monsters like this!"
Sam sighed, knowing they couldn't hide it any longer. He lowered his hands, weariness and helplessness in his eyes. His voice was gentle, yet carried clearly throughout the lobby. "It isn't a man-droid. It's a Shapeshifter. It can look like anyone, copy their memories and personality. Right now, it could be anyone here."
Ronald froze, as though he hadn't understood. Several seconds later, he burst into ecstatic laughter, laughing so hard he nearly cried and almost dropped the rifle. His laughter was full of relief and excitement, as if a boulder weighing on his heart had finally fallen away. "I knew it! I knew I wasn't crazy! I knew there were monsters like this! They all thought I was a lunatic. They were all wrong!"
Bai Haorui took the opportunity to slip into a corner of the lobby, where several cardboard boxes concealed him. He took out the ink line and deftly stretched it along the floor. The cord glowed faint cinnabar-red, especially noticeable in the dim light. His fingers knotted it nimbly, securing one end to the stair railing and the other to a fire hydrant in the corner. Soon, he had formed a circle at the vault entrance-a makeshift Spirit-Trapping Formation. When he finished, he leaned toward Dean's ear, speaking so quietly only they could hear. "The Spirit-Trapping Formation can hold it temporarily. Don't let it near the vault. There are too many people there. Someone could get hurt by mistake."
Ronald lowered his gun and pointed toward the vault, so excited his words were becoming jumbled. "Lock them all in there! Lock all the ordinary people in the vault! Then it'll have to make a move! Once we catch it, I can prove I'm not crazy! I can shut up everyone who laughed at me!"
Sam shook his head firmly, a trace of anger in his voice. "No. The vault's too dangerous. What if the Shapeshifter gets inside and starts hurting people? We can't risk innocent lives! You're wrong to think like that!"
Ronald frowned, his smile vanishing instantly, his eyes full of impatience. He stepped forward, closing in on Sam. "You can't catch a wolf without risking the bait! How else do we catch that monster? You think it'll just come out and let us take it?"
Neither would back down. Their voices grew louder, spittle landing on each other's faces. Caught between them, Dean raked a hand through his hair in irritation, trying to work out how to make everything work-catch the Shapeshifter, keep Ronald alive, and avoid hurting any ordinary people. He glanced at Bai Haorui, who shook his head helplessly, as if to say, "There's no getting through to this guy."
Bai Haorui leaned against the wall, watching the argument with a helpless sigh. He touched the Five Emperor Coins in his pocket, the smell of copper corrosion filling his nostrils, and thought-this was an ordinary person's dream of heroism, hot-blooded yet deadly. They always believed they could save the world, discover things others couldn't, never knowing that in the supernatural world, they couldn't even save themselves.
Dean kicked open the bank manager's office door. It slammed into the wall with a bang, knocking a picture frame off the wall. The office was empty. Sunlight streamed through the blinds, casting patches of light and shadow over the carpet. In the very center lay a translucent, blood-streaked shed skin, like a discarded coat of human hide.
The skin was paper-thin, its surface faintly glossy, with dark red streaks of blood still clinging to it as though it had just been peeled from a living creature. Bai Haorui crouched and gently touched it. It felt cold and slick, like a snake's scales. His brow furrowed deeply, his voice grave. "It changed identities. It must have sensed us just now. It's probably disguised as someone over by the vault now. We need to be careful."
Just then, a commotion rose from the vault. A woman's scream pierced the chaos in the lobby, her voice tearful and desperate. "Someone's having a heart attack! Help! He's dying!"
Sam's expression changed, and he immediately pulled out his phone, his voice urgent. "We need an ambulance! Saving him comes first! We can catch the Shapeshifter later. A life's at stake!"
"No!" Ronald charged over and slapped Sam's phone out of his hand. It hit the floor, its screen shattering instantly and parts scattering everywhere. His eyes were frighteningly red, like an enraged beast's, his voice full of madness. "What if the Shapeshifter takes the chance to escape when the police and ambulance get here? We'll never catch it again! I've waited too long for this day!"
"He's dying!" Sam growled, his eyes blazing with fury. He grabbed Ronald's collar and hauled him close until their noses almost touched. "Is a human life less important than your so-called need to prove yourself? You lunatic!"
They grappled, punching and kicking. Dean and Bai Haorui rushed over to pull them apart. Dean seized Sam's arm while Bai Haorui grabbed Ronald's wrist, and only with tremendous effort did they separate them. Bai Haorui took out a Clear Heart Talisman and hurried to the heart attack victim. It was a white-haired old man lying on the floor, his face purple, his breathing rapid, his lips already turning blue-black. Bai Haorui crouched and pressed the talisman to the old man's chest. The moment the paper touched his skin, it emitted a faint white glow. The old man's breathing gradually steadied a little, and his color improved slightly.
"This talisman can temporarily steady his mind and ease the symptoms." Bai Haorui helped the old man up and headed toward the office. "Get him to the office first. I'll watch him. You handle the Shapeshifter."
Just then, piercing sirens approached, growing louder and louder. Alternating red and blue lights flashed across the bank's glass doors. Victor Henriksen wore a crisp FBI uniform, its buttons meticulously fastened, his shoes polished to a shine. He pushed open his car door and strode toward the police cordon, his black coat snapping in the wind. Accepting a file from a subordinate, he surveyed the bank building. "What's the situation inside? Any hostage casualties?"
Bai Haorui spotted Henriksen through the window, frowned, and hurried over to Dean and Sam, a trace of caution in his voice. "Trouble. Real FBI." He took out the Five Emperor Coins and tossed them toward the window. They spun several times in the air before landing squarely in his palm-their surfaces showed no blue-black tint, remaining dull copper. "No yin energy on him. He's an ordinary person-but his presence is strong. He won't be easy to deal with."
Dean's face darkened. He gritted his teeth and swore. "Now we're in deep."
The lobby's main lights and spotlights suddenly came on, their glaring white light making it hard to open one's eyes. As Dean and Sam rushed into the lobby, a Black security guard suddenly burst out, his face full of panic. He knocked into Sam's shoulder and ran toward the bank's back door.
"That's him!" Dean shouted. "Don't let him get away!"
Without another word, Ronald snatched the rifle off the floor and chased after him, shouting, "Stop! I'm going to catch you! I'm going to prove I'm not crazy!" He ran as though pumped full of adrenaline, completely oblivious to the danger outside.
"Don't go! There are cops outside!" Sam shouted, trying to stop him, but catching only empty air. His voice was full of despair, his heart aching terribly as though an invisible hand had gripped it.
The instant the bank doors burst open, a gunshot split the sky.
Ronald swayed. In disbelief, he looked down at the bullet hole in his chest. Blood poured from it, staining his security uniform red. His eyes filled with shock and unwillingness, and the rifle fell from his hands with a dull clatter. His mouth opened as though he wanted to say something, but only bloody froth came out. Then he slowly collapsed onto the cold concrete, his eyes still open, staring at the gray sky.
The police sniper lowered his rifle and looked expressionlessly at the fallen man, as though he had merely killed an annoying fly.
Sam froze in place, fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles whitened and his nails dug deep into his palms, drawing blood. He looked at Ronald's body, at the fervor and unwillingness still lingering in the man's eyes. Guilt surged over him like a tide, almost drowning him. He remembered Ava, remembered the girl taken by the Yellow-Eyed Demon, remembered all the ordinary people who had died because of the supernatural. At last, he couldn't hold back his tears, and they fell onto the cold floor.
Bai Haorui patted Sam's shoulder. The warmth of his palm passed through the clothes, yet couldn't dispel the chill in Sam's heart. He said nothing. Any comfort now would have been superfluous. Looking at Ronald's body, he sighed inwardly-in the end, they still hadn't stopped him.
Dean gritted his teeth, his eyes full of fury. He gripped the silver knife so tightly that his knuckles turned white. His chest heaved and his breathing came fast, like an enraged lion. "Catch it! Avenge Ronald!"
The fleeing Black security guard was actually just a frightened ordinary man who wanted to escape the chaos. The real Shapeshifter, disguised as another Black security guard, was trying to slip out the back door amid the confusion. As it approached the door, it ran into Bai Haorui's Spirit-Trapping Formation. The ink line instantly flared with dazzling red light, coiling tightly around its legs like a red snake.
The Shapeshifter screamed, the sound so shrill and piercing that it hurt their eardrums. Its body convulsed violently, its skin rapidly peeling away to reveal its true form-skin as shriveled as crumpled paper clung tightly to its bones, its eyes were blood-red as two rubies, and exposed fangs gleamed coldly. It looked hideous and savage.
Dean charged forward, raised the silver knife, and drove it into the Shapeshifter's heart with every ounce of his strength.
The sound of silver piercing flesh was dull and grating. The Shapeshifter let out an agonized shriek, its body convulsing violently once. Then it gradually dissolved into a puddle of black water, seeped into the cold concrete, and vanished without a trace.
SWAT officers smashed through the door, as though they meant to shake the bank's walls down. Henriksen charged at the front, his gaze landing on Dean and Sam, his voice sharp as a blade. "Grab them! They're the suspects in these robberies!"
Dean grabbed Sam and spun, rushing up the stairs into a storage room beside the second-floor landing. Bai Haorui followed, swiftly shutting the door behind them.
"After them! Don't let them escape!"
Outside the storage room, two SWAT officers patrolled back to back. Dean and Sam exchanged a glance, suddenly opened the door, and lunged. Dean punched one officer in the jaw while Sam kicked the other in the stomach. They quickly knocked both unconscious with clean, efficient movements. They changed into the officers' tactical uniforms, which were a little too large and hung loosely on them.
Bai Haorui took out three Invisibility Talismans, made from yellow ritual paper bearing cinnabar symbols. He handed them to the two siblings, his voice rapid as a drumbeat. "Stick them to your chests. They can temporarily conceal your human aura and make you less noticeable. Don't talk. Follow me. Remember, keep your heads down and don't draw attention."
The three mingled with the SWAT officers, heads lowered and shoulders slightly hunched, slowly making their way outside. Henriksen's gaze swept over them and passed on, as though he hadn't seen them at all. He frowned, found nothing unusual, and turned toward the bank lobby.
In the parking lot outside the bank, the Impala's engine roared like an awakening beast. Dean tore off his tactical helmet and hurled it onto the passenger seat. He rubbed his brow, the crease between his eyebrows deep as a furrow. Turning toward Sam, he forced a bitter smile full of exhaustion and helplessness. "We are so screwed. We're really done for now!"
Sam watched the streetlights rushing past outside, their light casting shifting patches across his face. After a long silence, he nodded gently, his voice as rough as sandpaper scraping wood. "Yep."
Bai Haorui leaned back in the rear seat and took out the Five Emperor Coins. Their surfaces still carried a faint blue-black tint-the Shapeshifter's lingering yin energy. "We need to leave Milwaukee fast. The farther we get, the better."
Meanwhile, Henriksen stood beside a police car, holding a radio and staring sharply at the surveillance image of the Impala driving farther and farther away. The footage was low-resolution, yet showed the car's license plate clearly. His voice was low and firm as it carried across Milwaukee's police channels:
"Issue a nationwide manhunt for the Winchester brothers and the East Asian man with them. Whatever it takes, bring them in."