Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

“This sword,” Margaret said with reverence, “was used by my great-great-grandfather to repel a dragon attack in 1850, and it has been stuck here ever since.”

Dean stepped forward, reached out and grasped the hilt of the sword, and pulled hard.
The sword remained completely still.

“It is under some kind of selection magic,” Margaret explained. “Legend has it that only a hero recognized by the sword can pull it out. Of course, I don’t completely believe in that, but the fact is that no one has been able to move it even an inch in over a hundred years.”

Dean stared at the sword for a few seconds, then suddenly made a gesture that made Margaret's eyes widen.

He drew the new hunting knife that Grayson had forged and placed the tip against the junction of the hilt and the blade of the Dragon Slayer Sword.

“Listen, I don’t know if you’re some kind of magic sword or an intelligent sword,” Dean said to the dragon-slaying sword, his tone as serious as if he were negotiating. “But there’s a girl who’s been captured by a dragon, and we have to rescue her. You choose: either let us draw it and slay the dragon, or…”

He exerted a slight force on his wrist, and the sharp blade of the hunting knife pressed a white mark into the hilt of the Dragon Slayer Sword.

“I’ll cut you out of this broken rock. Do you know what this knife is made of? It’s made of angel feather powder and hellish cold iron. Cutting you, this old relic, is like slicing butter.”

Curator Margaret opened her mouth, but for a moment she didn't know what to say.

Sam stood to the side, rubbing his forehead, with an expression that said, "I knew this would happen."

In the silent chamber, the only sound was the faint rustling of Dean's hunting knife gently rubbing against the dragon-slaying sword.

The sword did not react.

Dean didn't pull the sword out of the stone, which drew a strange look from Margaret. He was a little embarrassed, but finally said he had his own way and not to worry.

Dean had the two step back a little, and then began to concentrate the angelic power into his hands.

He then gripped the sword hilt and began to unleash his power.

The angelic power surged along the sword towards the connecting part of the stone below, and a fiery red color appeared on the sword.

But it still hasn't been pulled out.

Unconvinced, Dean unleashed the full power within him, the angelic power that had been accumulating within the sword's body.

Then, as if a blocked water pipe had been suddenly cleared, the accumulated power exploded on the sword, blasting the stone below into fragments.

Dean quickly used his body to protect the curator behind him.

The entire basement was instantly turned into a mess. Once the dust settled, Dean looked excitedly at the sword in his hand.

His excited gaze suddenly froze, because the sword in his hand was now only half intact.

The sword was broken in the middle, the cut was jagged and gleamed with a dull metallic luster.

Dean looked completely bewildered.

"This"

Curator Margaret stood three meters away, her eyes wide open behind her gold-rimmed glasses.

She raised her hand to brush away the stone chips that had fallen on her shoulder, her lips moved, but she only managed to utter one sentence: "My great-great-grandfather will crawl out of his grave."

"I'm sorry." Dean's voice was hoarse as he held up the broken sword. "I'll pay for this."

“The Blackwood family is not short of money, Mr. Winchester.” Margaret took two steps closer and carefully examined the cross-section of the broken sword. “My concern is whether it can still be used.”

"Its legend has lasted for 170 years, not because of its splendor, but because it can actually kill dragons."

Dean flipped the broken sword over and lightly touched the edge of the break with his finger; it was still sharp enough to easily cut through skin.

"We'll try anything, even if it's a dead end," he said, sheathing his sword swiftly. "Something is better than nothing."

Sam peeked in and raised an eyebrow when he saw the mess on the floor: "The plan has changed?" "The plan remains the same," Dean said, walking towards him. "Only the equipment has been downgraded."

Five minutes later, the two returned to the main hall of the library.

Sam has used the internet addiction 'to' retrieve all missing persons reports, sightings, and paranormal activity markers from the town area over the past three months.

The holographic projection unfolds on the old oak table, with light spots and lines intertwining to form a complex network.

"Seventeen missing persons cases, spanning twenty-four days."

Sam's finger slid across the screen: "The frequency has increased in the last two weeks, ten cases now. All the missing persons are women, aged 18 to 25, and all were wearing white dresses before they disappeared."

Dean stared at the red dot marked on the map: "So, it has a specific target."

"And she's very picky." Sam zoomed in on a photo of the scene of the last missing person case, a screenshot from the internal surveillance footage of a secondhand store. Although blurry, a girl in a white dress could be seen in front of the counter.

"Emily Walker, 19 years old, is an art student at the local community college."

"It is indeed very beautiful." Dean clicked his tongue; he had an ability to appreciate beauty.

Margaret brought over two cups of coffee and placed them on the table: "The sewer system in the town of Erwin was built in the 1920s and connects to abandoned lead and zinc mines. If your dragon were to nest there, it would need a damp, spacious, and secluded space."

"The main hub is located below the old industrial area in the east of the town, but it was partially sealed off three years ago due to a landslide."

"Sealed off" means

“It’s sealed off for humans.” Margaret took a sip of her coffee. “What’s a rusty iron gate to a dragon that can transform into human form?”

Sam pulled up the sewer structure diagram and pointed to three red circles: "'Internet addiction' thermal scans show abnormal heat sources in these three areas. The mine is too deep to be scanned, and the entrance to the cave system is covered by a waterfall. We need to go into the sewers to take a look."

“Or let the dragon come out and find us,” Dean suddenly said.

The two brothers exchanged a glance. Years of unspoken understanding allowed Sam to immediately grasp his brother's thoughts; his lips twitched slightly: "No!"

“This is the most effective method.” Dean grinned. “You’ve seen the photos of those missing people. They’re all wearing white clothes, skirts, and jewelry. Dragons have aesthetic preferences. Sam, it’s picking out those that suit its taste.”

"So you want me to pretend to be its flavor?"

"Let's play rock-paper-scissors, best of three, it's fair and reasonable."

Sam stared at Dean's outstretched fist, sighed, and five seconds later, he lost the third round.

At dusk, an eerie atmosphere filled a cheap motel room in the eastern part of Erwin town.

Sam Winchester sat on the edge of the creaking bed, wearing a white dress he had bought from a thrift store.

The skirt was a size too small, clinging tightly to his broad shoulders and chest, and the zipper was barely halfway up.

Dean stood in front of him, holding a long, golden wig, his expression as serious as if he were assembling a bomb.

"Lower your head," Dean commanded.

Sam lowered his head and put on the wig.

The rough synthetic fibers rubbed against his scalp, and a few strands of hair fell in front of his eyes. Dean took two steps back to examine him, then touched his chin: "Not bad, just a face that's too big."

“My face shape is perfectly normal,” Sam’s muffled voice came from beneath the wig.

“That’s normal for a man.” Dean rummaged through his backpack and pulled out a makeup bag—he had gotten it from somewhere—from which he took out a foundation. “Close your eyes.” (End of Chapter)