Infinity: Kill your way through the movie world.

Dean stood behind the observation line three meters away, watching this scene unfold.

He had been here for twenty minutes, and Wu Heng hadn't said a word or even moved. If it weren't for the extremely slow pulsating light of the four rings, Dean would have thought that time had stood still here.

"You think you can see anything by just staring at them?" Dean finally couldn't help but ask.

Wu Heng did not answer immediately.

His gaze remained fixed on the intersection of the energy fields formed by the four rings, where there were extremely subtle, spiderweb-like spatial distortions.

After another ten seconds or so, he spoke, his voice exceptionally clear in the quiet room: "The ring is not a weapon."

“I know, it’s a symbol, it’s authority, it’s blah blah blah,” Dean said, taking two steps closer without saying a word. “Bobby said you’ve been here all night.”

“Cassie is still lying in the medical bay, Crowley has escaped back to Hell to lick his wounds, and the bodies of those hybrids outside haven’t been dealt with yet, but you’re here looking at the ring.”

“I’m looking for the way,” Wu Heng said.

"What way?"

"The road that imprisoned Lucifer."

Dean paused for a moment, then his expression turned serious, and he fell silent.

Wu Heng finally raised his hand, not to touch the glove, but to make a vague gesture around it.

His fingertips stirred up subtle, grayish-white energy flows, like a paintbrush sketching in the air. With his movement, the light from the four rings began to intensify in unison.

The green light of plague reveals the phantom of a rotting swamp; the dark red of war echoes with the roar of clashing metal; the withered yellow of famine reflects the cracked earth; and the gray of death seeps from the cold air of the graveyard.

Four forces, four symbols, four extremes of destruction.

However, they were forcibly bound together by Wu Heng's balancing force, forming an unstable, slowly rotating energy vortex.

At the center of the vortex, space began to collapse inward, forming a pinhead-sized point of absolute darkness.

“Look,” Wu Heng said.

Dean squinted, and in the deepest part of that dark spot, he saw something else.

It is a fragmented scene from another space:

Twisted rocks, flowing lava, grayish-white dust like ashes floating in the air—there was no light, yet everything spontaneously emitted a faint, morbid fluorescence.

The scene lasted for less than half a second before it distorted and disappeared with the fluctuations of the energy vortex.

“What place is that?” Dean asked.

“A cage.” Wu Heng withdrew his hand, and the light from the four rings gradually subsided. “The place where Lucifer was sealed by God’s own hand is not hell, but a deeper, isolated place that specifically imprisons ‘error’.”

Dean recalled some legends.

Fragments of stories passed down among witchers, snippets of information from ancient documents.

“I remember Daddy saying that after Lucifer rebelled, he was thrown into a cage, but it wasn’t hell, it was some ‘corner forgotten by God’.”

"Correct."

Wu Heng stood up, the metal chair legs scraping against the ground with a harsh sound: "That space itself is a complete seal. It has no entrance, no exit, the flow of time is distorted, and the energy environment is so harsh that even angels cannot survive for long."

“Lucifer was imprisoned there for thousands of years until the Apocalypse was initiated, at which point he was released.”

"So you want to put him back?" Dean understood. "But how? There's no door to that place."

“We already have the key,” Wu Heng said, pointing to the four rings. “Now I can briefly knock on that 'non-existent' door.” Dean was processing these words.

Wu Heng then walked to the control panel on one side of the room and brought up a series of complex data models.

On the holographic screen, the four-color energy flows intertwine, collide, and resonate in various ways.

"First, I need to 'drag' that cage space out of the dimensional gap and fix it at a certain coordinate in the real world. Otherwise, it will be a problem to get Lucifer into it, after all, he is no pushover."

"Drag it out?" Dean thought that was too simplistic. "You mean drag a dimensional prison that once held Lucifer into our world like a suitcase?"

“The metaphor is crude, but that’s how it is.” Wu Heng began inputting a series of coordinate parameters. “The prison space itself is in a semi-dependent state, like a parasite attached to the membrane of reality.”

“Using the power of the Four Horsemen as an anchor point, and in conjunction with the energy pull of the balancing field, as long as one is familiar enough with the power of control, it is theoretically possible to detach it and temporarily fix it in the real world.”

"Just like bringing a deep-sea fish to the surface, it can't adapt to the pressure change in a short time and will become weak and sluggish."

Dean stared at the frantically scrolling data stream on the screen and suddenly a question popped into his head: "Where do you plan to pin it?"

Wu Heng stopped typing and turned to look at him.

Guild Headquarters.

A day later, strange phenomena began to appear in the underground space of the Witcher Guild headquarters.

At first, there were only occasional spatial distortions, like the ground shaking from a summer heatwave. Then, sounds arose simultaneously from all directions, extremely low-frequency humming, as if the earth itself was groaning.

Some of the more perceptive Witcher reported that they felt the ground had become heavier.

On the seventh underground floor, Wu Heng stood in the center of the balancing magic circle that had expanded to cover the entire room.

The four rings no longer floated, but were embedded in the four energy nodes of the magic circle. The amplified power formed four pillars of light that shot into the sky. The green, red, yellow and gray light converged on the ground, then turned and shot towards the area selected by the magic circle.

"Traction progress is 37%."

Wu Heng looked at the holographic projection in front of him, which displayed the coupling degree between the prison space and the real dimension: "The spatial structure is beginning to loosen. Sam, increase the energy output of the auxiliary array on the east side by 15%."

"receive."

Sam's voice came through the communicator.

He was stationed at the auxiliary control station in the eastern part of the ground, where he was responsible for maintaining twelve secondary energy nodes.

In the West End, Dean's mission is more direct: to lead a team of elite witchers on patrol and guard against anything, whether demons, monsters, or curious angels, getting close to the traction area.

“Honestly,” Dean said over the comms, “we’re like inflating an invisible balloon, but nobody knows what will happen when it bursts.”

"It will release a dimensional shockwave equivalent to three million tons of TNT, bombarding all matter within a 50-kilometer radius into elementary particles," Wu Heng replied calmly.

The communication channel was silent for a few seconds.

"You're kidding, right?" Dean asked.

"The data model shows a probability of 7.3%," Wu Heng said. "Continue patrolling."

Dean muttered something, but didn't say anything more.

He looked up at the ground, still unable to see anything with his naked eye, but he could feel the omnipresent pressure on his skin, like the low pressure before a storm, but heavier and more unsettling.

Five more hours passed. (End of Chapter)