Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

The fluorescent lights in the hospital corridor emitted a buzzing electrical sound, and the smell of disinfectant mixed with the putrid, musty odor unique to old age and disease.

Sam stood outside the glass window of the intensive care unit, looking at Dean and Bobby, who were covered in tubes and wires, his fists clenched so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

The attending physician, a middle-aged man wearing gold-rimmed glasses, said in a flat tone: "The condition of the two patients is not optimistic. Their physiological age shows that they are over ninety years old, but their cell decay rate is abnormal, and all organs are failing synchronously."

"We've done every possible test, but we can't find the cause. Frankly, given their current condition, they could die at any moment."

He paused, glancing at Sam's red eyes: "My suggestion is to notify the other family members and prepare for the funeral."

"If there are any unfulfilled wishes, it's best to make the most of them."

“Thank you, doctor,” Sam said in a hoarse voice. “Can I be alone with you for a while?”

The doctor nodded, patted him on the shoulder, and left.

Sam pressed his forehead against the cold glass.

Every tick of the numbers on the monitor felt like a hammer blow to his heart. Dean's heart rate was only 45, and his blood pressure was dangerously low; Bobby was in worse shape, completely dependent on a machine for breathing.

two hours.

It would take Lor at least two hours to get here from the Land of Balance, and that's under the most ideal circumstances, assuming the ghost ship is traveling at full speed without any obstacles along the way.

Dean and Bobby might be able to hold out for two hours, or they might not.

Moreover, Lor also needs time to deal with the current situation.

Sam closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

He recalled a time when he was a child and had a high fever of 40 degrees Celsius. John wasn't home, and Dean stayed up all night, wiping his body with a wet towel over and over again.

He remembered the first time Bobby taught him to load salt bullets into a shotgun. He was so clumsy that he almost blew up the workbench. The old man was so angry that his beard stood on end, but he still patiently taught him again.

He can't just wait like this.

It wasn't that he didn't trust Wu Heng; the chairman always had a way, as had been proven countless times over the years.

But Sam Winchester was never a soldier who simply waited for orders.

He is a witcher, one of the key figures in the prophecy of the apocalypse, Dean's brother, and the child Bobby watched grow up.

If I do nothing, and any one of them dies in this ward...
"I won't let that happen," Sam whispered, as if making a vow.

He took one last look at the intensive care unit, then turned and walked away quickly.

As he left the hospital, he sent a brief message to Wu Heng via communicator, not foolish enough to keep quiet: "Lohr, Dean Bobby is in critical condition. I'm taking action first to try and regain my lifespan. Card Traveler coordinates have been updated, Sam."

He did not wait for a reply.

Some decisions must be made by yourself.

Room 108 is opposite room 106 of the Starlight Hotel.

Sam didn't just barge in.

He first walked around the hotel, observing all the entrances and exits, then climbed up the fire escape to the second floor, leaned over the air conditioner unit outside the window of room 108, and peered inside through the gaps in the blinds.

The room was so clean that it didn't look like anyone had lived there.

The deck of cards was still on the small round table, face down, and a black leather briefcase was placed beside the bed.

Sam waited patiently for twenty minutes.

Finally, the door opened.

The Card Traveler emerged. He was still wearing that impeccably tailored dark blue suit, his hair was perfectly styled, and he carried a high-end-looking leather wallet.

He didn't check out; he just locked the door and headed towards the stairs, seemingly heading towards the 24-hour coffee shop across the street.

Sam waited until his figure disappeared at the top of the stairs before taking action.

He took out a specially made lock-picking tool from his tool bag.

This is not an ordinary lock pick, but a probe treated with special force that can temporarily interfere with the internal mechanical structure of the lock without triggering an alarm.

Three seconds later, the door lock made a soft click.

Sam slipped inside and closed the door behind him.

He went straight for the black briefcase.

The box wasn't locked. Inside, dozens of plastic tokens were neatly stacked. Each round plastic token was engraved with a different animal image: an eagle, a wolf, a snake, a turtle, and a lion.
Sam quickly flipped through the pages.

鹰.
Found it! The design is an eagle with outstretched wings, and the word "DW" is engraved next to it in very small font.

This is an abbreviation for Dean Winchester.

The other chip, engraved with a turtle, is also engraved with BS, which stands for Bobby Singh.

He clutched the two chips in his hand, his heart pounding.

But reason told him that things couldn't be that simple. If lifespan really was stored in these plastic pieces, how could the card traveler feel comfortable leaving them in the room?

Just as he was thinking, a gentle voice came from behind him:

"Looking for this?"

Sam whirled around and drew his gun.

The Card Traveler leaned against the doorframe, holding a steaming cup of coffee in his hand, a half-smile on his face.

He didn't come in through the door. Sam was sure he had locked the door from the inside. Was it teleportation or an illusion?

"Put down your gun, Mr. Winchester." The Card Traveler took a sip of coffee.

“Those little trinkets you have are just souvenirs; the real chips are right here,” he said, tapping his temple with his free hand.

Sam didn't lower his gun, but his heart sank: "What does this mean?"

"What I mean is that what carries my lifespan is not plastic, but my eight hundred years of wizarding cultivation." The Card Traveler walked into the room and casually placed his coffee cup on the small round table. "Those patterns and abbreviations are just anchors, symbols; what truly stores that time is my soul itself."

Eight hundred years.

Sam gripped the gun tighter.

This means that the other party is not an ordinary wizard, but an old monster who has lived for eight centuries, whose accumulated knowledge and power are unfathomable.

“You’re here for your brother and that old man, aren’t you?” The Card Traveler pulled out a chair and sat down, gesturing for Sam to sit as well. “I’m sorry they were unlucky, but at the gambling table, you have to accept the consequences of your bets, that’s the rule.”

"To lose so badly, is it just bad luck?" Sam said in a deep voice, but he didn't sit down, his gun still pointed at the other party.

“I never cheat,” Card Traveler said seriously. “When Dean bet, he was agitated and determined to win. His lifespan fluctuated wildly, which was a weakness. Bobby was too eager, too eager for lifespan. The lines in his mind were taut like a string about to break. I just sensed those emotional fluctuations.”

He paused, looking at Sam: "And you, now breaking into my room to steal things, even the legendary Winchester Twins are no better than this."

Sam said expressionlessly, "If I hadn't come, I would have regretted it for the rest of my life."

"And then what? Take these two plastic pieces back and watch them die?" The Card Traveler laughed. "Or do you want to take a gamble with me?" (End of Chapter)