Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

“It’s a demon!” Dean said in a low voice. “Their power field interferes with electronic devices. Look at these time periods, the frequency is very high. They must be active here often.”

As Sam meticulously recorded these unusual times, attempting to analyze the number of demons and their activity patterns, a corner of the surveillance screen caught his attention.

Two familiar figures were sneaking around to the back alley of the bar, seemingly observing something, before pushing open an inconspicuous little door and slipping inside.

It was the same black witch hunter couple who had previously refused to cooperate and accused them of being 'traitors'.

"Damn it, how did they get in?!" Sam exclaimed. "Didn't they notice anything unusual here, or did they not know that this time the demons were a group, not just one?"

Dean leaned closer for a look, and his expression changed: "Damn it, these two self-righteous idiots have at least six Seven Deadly Sins demons hidden inside. They've delivered this to our doorstep."

Given the strength that couple demonstrated, they might be able to hold their own against one of the Seven Deadly Sins, but facing six at the same time would be a certain death sentence.

“We can’t wait any longer!” Dean stood up abruptly, despite his leg injury causing him to stumble. “We have to go in. We can’t let those two idiots die in there, and this is our best chance to find those bastards.”

The two looked at each other and saw the determination in each other's eyes.

They quickly checked their remaining weapons and holy water, took a deep breath, and cautiously made their way to the back door of the eerily cold 'Midnight Blues' bar.

The air inside the bar was stagnant, like an icebox, and bitterly cold.

This place has become a paradise for the seven deadly sins and their minions. Dim lights flicker, casting distorted shadows on the walls, and the air is filled with the stench of sulfur, cheap alcohol, and a deeper, more corrupting stench.

The black witch hunter couple were now deeply trapped in the heart of this despair.

The black man who had been so defiant was now being brutally forced to his knees by two laughing, lowly demons.

His mouth was cracked and his cheeks were swollen, but his eyes were fixed on his wife not far away. She was being held tightly by another demon from behind, her arms wrapped tightly around his neck. A gleaming dagger was pressed against her throat, and the blade had already drawn a thin line of blood.

"Drink it." A lazy, maliciously amused voice rang out.

The one speaking was one of the leading demons, who possessed a man in a suit. Its dark eyes and mocking, cruel smile revealed its true nature; it was likely a demon with the attribute of 'arrogance'.

It kicked a red metal gasoline can placed in front of the kneeling man with its toe; the can was mostly filled with a clear, pungent liquid.

"Drink it all, and we'll release your dear wife. Otherwise... heh heh, her blood might be more flammable than gasoline?"

"No, Rick, no!" the woman cried out in despair, struggling desperately, but the demon behind her covered her mouth, and she could only let out muffled moans.

The man named Rick looked at the fear and tears in his wife's eyes, and then at the devilish faces around him, filled with malice and expectation.

He knew it was a trap, a despicable game in which the devil took pleasure in tormenting people, but he had no choice.

A sliver of hope, the illusion that the devil would keep his bullshit promise, and the instinct to protect his wife overwhelmed everything else.

He let out a low growl like a wounded beast, and suddenly stretched out his trembling hands to pick up the gasoline can. The pungent smell instantly filled his nostrils, making him feel nauseous.

"Rick, no!" His wife broke free from the hand covering her mouth again and screamed at the top of her lungs.

Rick closed his eyes, his facial muscles contorted in extreme resistance, but he still jerked his head back, brought the bucket to his mouth, and gulped it down!
"Glug...glug--!" Spicy, burning liquid violently washed over his throat and esophagus, finally surging into his stomach. This feeling was not like drinking water, but more like swallowing countless blades and flames.

His body convulsed violently, a tearing pain shot through his stomach, his stomach wall was corroded and penetrated by strong acid, and a large amount of gasoline even came out of his nostrils, mixed with saliva and gastric juice, and splashed all over his chest.

He could no longer hold on, and the gasoline can fell to the ground with a thud, the remaining gasoline gushing out.

He curled up on the ground, his hands clutching his throat and stomach, his body arched like a shrimp, gagging and groaning in pain, his face as pale as paper. Finally, his eyes rolled back, and he passed out completely, motionless.

"Rick!" his wife cried out in anguish, almost collapsing to her knees.

The demons burst into laughter, as if they were witnessing the most spectacular comedy in the world.

"Tsk tsk tsk, what a touching love story." The arrogant demon shook his head with feigned regret, strolled over to the unconscious Rick, and kicked his unresponsive body with the tip of his leather shoe. "Too bad, the game isn't over yet. It's really too fragile."

With a wave of its hand, several low-ranking demons immediately stepped forward, dragged the motionless Rick up, and roughly placed him on a huge bar counter.

They spread his arms apart, making them perpendicular to his body, and then brought his legs together.

“Nails.” The 'Arrogance' demon stretched out its hand.

Two rusty, thick iron nails were placed in its hand.

Under the woman's horrified gaze, the demon grinned maliciously, raised the nail, aimed it at Rick's outstretched left palm, and smashed it down hard!

puff!

The nail pierced through his flesh and was driven deep into the wooden bar below. Rick's body showed no reaction whatsoever, like a dead fish.

The other hand suffered the same fate.

Then, the demons used rough ropes to tightly bind his ankles together and fix them to the other end of the bar.

At this moment, Rick was pinned to the bar in an almost tortured position, in a cross shape.

"No, you devils, let him go! He's dead! What more do you want?!" the woman cried out frantically, her voice hoarse.

"Dead?" The arrogant demon raised an exaggerated eyebrow. "No, the show has only just begun."

It picked up the bucket that still had a lot of gasoline left and poured the pungent liquid onto Rick's body without hesitation.

Gasoline soaked through his clothes, spreading across the bar counter and filling the entire bar with its pungent odor, from his hair, face, and chest to his restrained limbs.

Then, the arrogant demon casually tossed the empty bucket aside, picked up a lighter from the bar, and shoved it into the hand of the woman who had been brought over by the demon.

“Now, it’s your turn, dear witcher lady.” It whispered in the woman’s ear, its voice like a venomous snake, “Light it.” (End of Chapter)