Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

Dean was indeed skilled at playing cards. In his many years as a demon hunter, he had spent countless nights in bars, winning money for drinks, intelligence, and even once winning back the freedom of a kidnapped person from a low-level demon.

He ran his fingertips along the edge of the cards, his eyes sharp as an eagle, calculating the probabilities of the community cards while simultaneously trying to discern subtle clues in the man's micro-expressions. Each bet was made with the caution of defusing a bomb.

The Angel Potion granted him heightened sensory perception.

Dean kept observing the micro-expressions of the card traveler opposite him.

The card table was an ordinary solid wood table. The shuffling technique was so precise that there was no room for error. The wear marks on the edges of the cards were even, indicating that it was a new deck. Dean had checked it and there were no problems.

There was no sign of cheating on the other side.

But the unease in his heart surged like a tidal wave, not because his opponent was suspicious, but because of some more eerie premonition: every time he looked down at his hand, a blurry vision would flash before his eyes, his wrinkled hands gripping the steering wheel, staggering with a cane at Sam's funeral, and finally curling up alone on the hard bed in a motel and stopping breathing.

“Focus, Mr. Winchester.” The Card Traveler tapped his fingertips lightly on the table, his smile gentle yet distant. “In a fair game, distraction is the greatest enemy.”

Dean shook his head violently to dispel the illusion, suppressing the last trace of hesitation.

The game has reached its final round, with the five community cards laid out on the table: 10 of hearts, Jack of spades, Queen of clubs, King of diamonds, and Ace of hearts.

This is a standard straight flush, but it holds endless possibilities.

Dean revealed his hole cards: the 8 of diamonds and the 9 of hearts, which made a straight flush to win the hand.

The card traveler opposite him remained calm, simply pushing the chips in front of him gently: "Call."

"All in." Dean gritted his teeth and pushed out the chip representing eighty years of his life in one go. His heart was about to jump out of his chest. If he won this round, he could redeem the fifty years of Bobby's life that had been taken away, and he could also earn another thirty years of life for Bobby.

A faint smile flashed in the Card Traveler's eyes as he put out his own chips: "Show your cards."

Dean suddenly revealed a straight flush and almost jumped up to cheer, but the next second, he saw the two hole cards his opponent had revealed: the Ace of Clubs and the Ace of Spades.

Four Aces!

The air solidified instantly.

Dean's smile froze, and his blood seemed to freeze at that moment.

"No way!" He checked the cards repeatedly in disbelief. The Ace of Hearts in the community cards, plus the opponent's two Aces, was indeed an overwhelming four Aces.

The result was obvious: he lost, lost completely, and lost due to pure luck.

Before he could recover from the shock, a sudden wave of intense weakness swept over him, as if his very bones had been drained.

Dean looked down and watched as the back of his hand withered at a visible speed, wrinkles spread like a spider web, age spots appeared one after another, and his once strong fingers were now so weak that he could not even hold a card.

"The rules of the game are clearly written, Mr. Winchester." The Card Traveler slowly collected his cards, his tone completely calm. "The loser must pay the entire stake."

He flicked his finger, and a round plastic chip the size of an egg appeared out of thin air, its body engraved with fine time patterns. "Your fifty years of lifespan will be sealed here."

"Where's Bobby?" Dean's voice became old and hoarse, each word requiring immense effort.

“His lifespan was already lost in another gamble.” The Card Traveler put the plastic chips into his pocket, his figure beginning to fade. “You had a chance to save him, but luck was on my side.” Dean tried to draw his gun, but his arm felt as heavy as lead.

He watched the other person completely disappear into thin air before he managed to stand up, leaning on the table for support. He still had plenty of money in his pocket, but he didn't have the strength to spend it.

Dean stumbled to a nearby hotel, tossed some money to the clerk, and asked him to pick up Bobby.

The two of them used their last bit of strength to book room number 107.

The hotel staff were initially hesitant to give them a room, fearing that the two might suffocate and die in the hotel.

However, he agreed under the weight of the price. After all, Dean had given him 10 times the usual price, and he could easily pocket the extra 9 times. In any case, if anything went wrong, it would be the boss's problem, not his, a waiter's, business.

Dean had just helped the unconscious Bobby onto the bed when he himself could no longer hold on and collapsed onto the bed next to him, his consciousness gradually fading with old age and weakness.

On his deathbed, he trembled as he pulled out his communicator and dialed Sam's number.

Sam received the message while negotiating with Mrs. Salem, the leader of the 'Midnight Voice'.

The voice coming from the communicator sent a chill down his spine; it was an extremely hoarse, aged voice, barely audible, yet carrying Dean's unique stubbornness.

"Room 106 at Sam's Starlight Hotel, it's booked, come quickly."

Sam grabbed his coat and rushed out the door, leaving Mrs. Salem with only the words "I'll explain later."

When he burst through the hotel room door, the sight before him made his heart stop:
Two frail old men lay on the two beds. Bobby on the left was so thin that his skin clung to his bones; Dean on the right had a full head of white hair and deep, knife-cut wrinkles. If it weren't for the familiar leather jacket, he wouldn't have recognized his brother at all.

Their breathing was so faint that their chests were barely rising and falling, and there were change coins on the bedside table.

“Dean, Bobby!” Sam rushed over, his fingertips trembling as he checked their pulses. There was still a beat, but it was as faint as a candle flickering in the wind.

It’s good that you’re not dead!

Sam breathed a slight sigh of relief, but he was still nervous inside.

Dean barely opened his cloudy eyes, his lips moving slightly: "I lost. Bad luck."

Sam forced himself to calm down.

He examined the two men and found no external injuries or toxins; their symptoms were simply due to their life force being drained, rendering conventional medicines and runes ineffective.

He immediately pulled out his communicator, his fingers trembling slightly with nervousness, and dialed Lor's emergency number.

"Sam?" Wu Heng's voice came from the other end of the line, with the faint sound of machinery running in the background. His tone remained calm. "What happened?"

“Lore, Dean and Bobby are in trouble. We’re at the Starlight Hotel in Nevada.” Sam’s voice was urgent. “Dean and Bobby bet their lifespans on the Card Traveler. The bet was fair, but Dean was unlucky and lost.”

“They have all lost decades of their lives and look like they are in their nineties. Their vital signs are about to fail, and we need your help.”

"Okay, I understand. You guys stay at the hotel and don't move around too much. I'll be right there." Wu Heng hung up the phone without changing his tone. (End of Chapter)