160: Chapter 160 Mary with the Broken Mirror

"Hum—"

An incredibly crisp chime, filled with overwhelming pressure, exploded through the air of the antique shop.

Qin Ming's figure appeared beside Dean without any warning.

He didn't even lift a hand; the golden, solid holy halo that had been hidden behind his head suddenly manifested, bursting with blinding, divine light.

The resentment of Bloody Mary, which was enough to crush an ordinary Demon Hunter, was ruthlessly stripped away and disintegrated the moment it touched this light, like lingering snow under a scorching sun.

Mary let out an incredibly shrill scream.

Her hands, which she had prepared to tear Dean apart, vaporized directly into black smoke under the shine of the holy light.

Qin Ming looked indifferently at the twisted vengeful spirit before him and casually snapped his fingers with his right hand.

A bolt of holy light, only the size of a fingernail but compressed to the extreme, shot from his fingertip and accurately sank into the center of Mary's brow.

There was no violent explosion, only silent annihilation.

Bloody Mary didn't even have room to struggle; her entire body instantly collapsed into a sky full of light dust, leaving not even a trace of soul residue behind.

The cold system notification sounded: [Ding! Killed Bloody Mary, Points +5.]

Qin Ming curled his lip.

A deathly silence fell over the antique shop.

Dean stared blankly at the child who had suddenly appeared beside him, radiating an unreasonable amount of light.

He swallowed hard, his brain rapidly processing everything that had just happened.

"How are you?" Dean managed to squeeze out an opening line, his voice somewhat dry.

Qin Ming turned to look at him, a hint of teasing in his tone: "I'm fine, thank you. And you?"

Sam, lying on the floor with the blood on his face congealing, struggled to prop up his upper body with his elbows.

When he saw Qin Ming's face clearly, especially that floating golden halo, a certain fanatical light reignited in his dim eyes.

"It's you..." Sam's voice was still weak, but his tone was exceptionally firm. "The one who made me believe... Thank you for saving my girlfriend."

Dean snapped his head around, looking at his brother as if he were a madman. "What's the situation? Sam, did that ghost thing scramble your brain? Why would you believe in him?"

Sam leaned against the dusty wooden counter, gasping for air, but his eyes remained fixed on the halo behind Qin Ming's head.

"My consciousness was fading at the time, okay!" Sam's voice was hoarse, carrying the exhaustion of a survivor.

Dean frowned deeply, grabbed Sam's collar to pull him off the floor, and shielded him firmly behind himself.

"Listen, Sam, we're hunters. Hunters don't go to church, and they certainly don't pray to some glowing kid who popped out of nowhere. There are ten thousand kinds of mutated monsters in this world that can create light and shadow effects!"

Dean turned around, his hand reaching directly for the small of his back.

He stared at Qin Ming, his eyes like a lone wolf protecting its cub, his hostility and vigilance instantly maxed out.

"Who are you?" Dean's fingers were already hooked on the gun grip. Though he didn't draw it immediately, his muscles were tensed to the limit. "A Crossroads Demon? Some pagan god who likes roleplay? Or some kind of mutated high-order Ghoul?"

"Don't look at me with those eyes as if you're looking at a monster." Qin Ming casually kicked away a shard of glass stained with black blood and looked up to meet Dean's gaze. "Let me correct two of your mistakes. First, if demons or evil spirits could look directly at my halo from this close, they would have turned to ash just like that female ghost. Second, I don't like people pointing guns at me."

Having his hidden card called out, the muscles on Dean's face twitched slightly.

But he was definitely not the kind of novice who could be easily bluffed by a few words.

There was no nonsense.

Dean's left hand suddenly pulled a small stainless steel flask from his jacket pocket, flicked the cap open with his thumb, and forcefully threw the liquid inside toward the floor at Qin Ming's feet.

More than half a flask of holy water, specially blessed by a priest, drew an arc in the air and landed unerringly on the floor in front of Qin Ming and the tips of his shoes.

If it were a disguised demon or dark creature, the moment they touched high-purity holy water, they would emit black smoke and their flesh would fester as if hit by strong acid.

However, nothing happened.

No black smoke, no sizzling sound, no burnt smell.

Not only that, but the holy water that fell within a half-meter radius of Qin Ming's feet actually emitted a faint milky-white glow the moment it touched the ground, as if even this ordinary priest's holy water had been refined a second time before this purer, more domineering energy.

Dean gripped the empty flask, his eyes widening further and his breathing coming to a sudden halt.

"Is the testing finished?" Qin Ming looked at the shimmering holy water stains at his feet, raised his head calmly, and his gaze pierced through Dean's defensive stance into his eyes. "Since you don't plan to shoot, let's talk business. You can also believe in me."

Qin Ming said this as if it were a matter of course, making Dean almost laugh out of anger.

"Are you kidding me?" Dean suppressed the stormy waves in his heart and retorted bluntly, "I don't even know who you are."

The air in the antique shop fell into a brief, deathly silence.

Sam weakly tugged at Dean's jacket from behind: "Dean, don't be like this..."

Looking at the stubborn Dean, a very faint curve instead hooked at the corner of Qin Ming's mouth.

This kind of tough nut was indeed hard to crack, but in the face of an extreme display of supernatural power, the collapse of a worldview only required a little more heavyweight leverage.

"You don't even know who I am?" Qin Ming shoved his hands back into his pockets. "Then let me introduce myself."

Just as he finished speaking.

In the corner of the antique shop, an old 1960s radio sitting on a wooden shelf, its power cord long gone, suddenly lit up its green indicator light without any warning.

Next, every electronic device in the entire shop capable of making sound or light—the dilapidated black-and-white TV behind the counter, the miniature radio at the bottom of the shelf, and even the flip phone in Dean's pocket that was currently turned off—

All burst out with an extremely piercing burst of static noise at the same moment.

"Zizi—"

In the originally dim antique shop, screens in every corner simultaneously lit up with eerie blue static.

Dean suddenly drew his gun, alertly aiming at the noisy appliances all around. Sam also looked around nervously, his palms sweating.

"Zizi... Breaking... major news..."

An emotionless, weird male voice, crudely pieced together from the tones of various people, came overlapping out of all the speakers.

It was none other than Larry.

Accompanied by a sharp, short frequency sound, the chaotic static came to an abrupt halt.

In its place was an extremely solemn, ethereal chorus of classical hymns that seemed to come from above the clouds.