100. Christmas Day

That noon, around a wooden dining table nestled in the green grass of Nevada State High School, Dean and a group of friends gathered in a circle enjoying their lunch.

“The news channels have gone crazy,” Baker said, stuffing a taco filled with meat and vegetables into his mouth. “The famous real estate tycoon Layton Stone and his entire family of five were found shot in their own secret room.”

“His youngest son, Gru Stone’s body appeared in a private residence on Palm Tree Street, which is dozens of miles away.”

“The whole family was brutally wiped out.”

He wiped his hands on his chest hair, and nearby, Janet, a black girl, rolled her eyes in disdain.

“I heard even scarier details from Thomas,” Gretchen blinked her pale blue eyes and spoke mysteriously to her friends. “They found dozens of other victims’ remains in that secret room, some dating back two years... It turns out the family were hidden, twisted killers.”

“A vigilante discovered their crimes and took justice into his own hands, then secretly left the evidence outside the police station.”

“That sounds like a superhero comic. Have they caught the vigilante?”

Everyone’s eyes sparkled with excitement.

“Thomas said the investigation is still ongoing,” Gretchen shook her head. “But the vigilante was very clean—left almost no clues.”

Dean quietly breathed a sigh of relief.

“Guys, I have a really bad feeling...” Abby squatted on her chair, clutching a warm coffee cup tightly, her slender face flashing a hint of fear. “The number of murders in Las Vegas this year is unnaturally high.”

“Starting from Bob Lowe’s death, incidents at Mead Lake, me being framed... over twenty gangsters burned alive on Janet’s street... and now this whole family of twisted killers wiped out... no year has been this bad.”

Dean sipped his yogurt, his eyes complicated.

“Don’t scare yourself, it’s just your imagination,” Gretchen handed Abby half an apple pie from her plate. “The number of homicides hasn’t increased—it’s just that we’re older and paying more attention to these things.”

“But I think Abby’s analysis makes sense. This year feels eerie,” Baker said seriously. “Maybe next time, these terrible accidents will happen to us?”

“Fuck you! I’ll tear you apart for being such a jinx!” Janet grabbed her boyfriend’s cheeks with her long pink nails, pulling his face wide.

“I just remembered!” Britney suddenly stood up, made the sign of the cross on her chest, and tightened her pretty face. “The evangelist Pat Robertson once prophesied that by the end of 1982, God would judge the world, which means the apocalypse will come in two years.”

“The series of terrifying events in Las Vegas this year might be a sign of the end times.”

The group opened their mouths slightly, shocked and staring at Britney as if she were a fool, basking in the sunlight like a saint announcing doom.

“Haven’t you guys watched the ‘700 Club’? It’s very educational!”

Britney weakly defended herself, waving a fist.

Lester stuffed a spoonful of yogurt into her mouth. “Stop spouting this alarmist nonsense. The apocalypse is bullshit. If it really comes, no one can escape it!”

“Let’s be optimistic and focus on the present. Good news, everyone: Britney and I are going to Arizona University for interviews soon.”

“You passed the SAT? How come you didn’t tell me earlier about such a big deal?” Dean’s right hand went around Lester’s shoulder, choking him playfully. “Don’t you consider me a brother?”

“I think it’s better to tell everyone after passing the interview,” Lester smiled slyly.

Dean nodded and scanned the group of friends.

Among the seven present, only Lester and Britney planned to attend a proper university. Gretchen aimed for the police force, Abby just wanted to graduate and inherit her family’s supermarket, Baker’s family was wealthy so college didn’t matter much, and Janet intended to just live off her boyfriend.

“How confident are you?” Dean asked.

“I’m applying for philosophy, so it should be fine,” Britney smiled sweetly.

Lester said, “My astronomy department is very competitive, so my chances are about fifty-fifty.”

“Don’t be modest; you guys will definitely make it!” Abby gave them a thumbs-up. “But college tuition is expensive this year, right?”

In the early 1980s, inflation in the United States soared, economic recession hit, and the government cut financial aid for higher education. Many universities had to sharply raise tuition to cover budget gaps.

Now, public university tuition for a year nearly doubled compared to previous years, almost equivalent to an adult’s half-year income.

“I’ve already found a summer job. I’ll try to apply for student loans,” Britney’s pale face was full of determination.

Lester scratched his nose awkwardly, a trace of undeniable happiness and pride shining in his eyes. “Grace told me not to worry about college tuition.”

The group listened enviously.

“Lester, from now on, you’re my real brother!” Baker hugged his arm, smiling humbly and ingratiatingly.

“?”

“That way, I can also call Grace ‘dear mom’ and enjoy her meticulous care.”

“Get lost!”

...

The joyful school days flew by swiftly.

1980 soon reached its end, the evening of Christmas in December.

The fiery clouds’ glow streamed through the window, illuminating a figure sitting cross-legged on the bed with a serene expression.

Dean slowly exhaled, awakening from meditation. The pale red star hovering before his eyes quietly faded, a chill swept through his mind as the last streak of dusk vanished.

You have completed a cycle of balanced meditation.

Proficiency +1

Balanced Meditation Lv1 → Lv2 (0/300).

You gained 1 point of Willpower.

Willpower: 12.3 → 13.3.

...

Dean felt the continuous chill in his mind, focusing his attention on his mental attributes.

He gritted his teeth.

One point of attribute vanished from the system.

Spirit, which hadn’t grown for months: 14.3 → 15.3.

...

Thump, his temple pulsed once.

The coolness in his mind was replaced by heat. His brain felt like an overheating CPU, flashing wildly with past scenes and wildly imaginative thoughts about the future.

For instance, riding a motorcycle in the deep night to cities around Las Vegas, seeking out and punishing criminals.

There were also dark, filthy thoughts growing incessantly, like using “Shadow of the Past,” “God’s Perspective,” and “Mimicry” to kill at will and rapidly enhance abilities!

Tearing apart the shackles of morality, ignoring so-called principles, indulging fully in the desire to kill.

The filthy thoughts lingered persistently in his mind. Dean’s eyes reddened, his breath gradually grew heavy.

...

After a long while, the chaotic thoughts finally settled. Dean’s expression was complicated as he exhaled.

“Fifteen points is a threshold; once spirit crosses it, thoughts become extremely active.”

“13.3 Willpower can barely control the chaotic thoughts.”

If spirit continues to rise, thoughts will become increasingly uncontrollable, and the person will become chaotic, even risking schizophrenia.

This path is fraught with danger.

“Spirit and Willpower must increase in sync; the imbalance must not widen.” Dean made up his mind. Suddenly, a black humanoid figure flew out from his body, circling in midair like a cloak, then lightning-fast darted out the window, distancing itself.

Ten meters, fifteen meters, twenty meters, twenty-seven meters...

“Spirit broke through 15 points; Shadow of the Past’s maximum activity range has surged from 18 meters to 27 meters.” Dean glanced at his quartz watch: 6:10.

The “Shadow” flew back into the bedroom. Using telekinesis, three books on the bookshelf near the window slowly floated and spun.

One minute, two minutes... fifteen minutes.

Dean, with temples swollen almost to bursting, retracted the “Shadow.”

“The duration of the Shadow’s existence has increased from nearly 10 minutes to at least 15 minutes, an increase of half.”

Enlightenment dawned on Dean’s mind: the higher Spirit rises, the more dangerous, but the greater the ability boost.

“Just don’t know if when Spirit reaches a certain level, I can awaken telekinesis autonomously? Telekinesis, killing with a glance.”

Dean dreamed of such powerful supernatural abilities, then checked his current status:

Character Level: 3 (140/400)

Age: 18

Physique: 14.6

Strength: 12.4

Agility: 13.2

Perception: 11.8

Spirit: 15.3

Willpower: 13.3

...

Specialties: Intermediate Ironman, Beginner Supernatural Hunter

Abilities: 5/5

Combat Lv2 (100→120/300)

Shooting Lv2 (29/200→49/300)

Shadow of the Past Lv1 (57→87/200)

Balanced Meditation Lv2 (0/300)

Mimicry Lv0 (28→60/100)

System Ability: God’s Perspective Lv2: Range 20 meters.

...

Dean, satisfied, got out of bed, put on a light blue shirt underneath, then donned a red jacket and coat to fit the local style.

He combed his neat black short hair in front of the mirror.

Standing 1.8 meters tall, with a straight nose and sharply defined facial features, he looked masculine and handsome.

Thanks to recently lifting weights and drawing a bit of strength from the Nightwalker species, his body was bulkier than before, perfectly embodying the phrase “slim in clothes, muscular without them”—a true clothes hanger.

Moreover, unlike Western men’s rough and hairy skin, his skin was delicate, glossy, and remarkably resilient; ordinary knives only left white marks unless applied with force.

...

Dean went downstairs and called his girlfriend, then set out with a small gift prepared in advance.

It was Christmas season. Although Las Vegas lacked snow and chubby snowmen, the neighborhood houses were decorated with colorful lights, wreaths, and Christmas trees, creating a dreamy scene.

“Merry Christmas, Dean, come over for dinner.”

Jacob, a bearded man, waved from the yard, and his teddy dog barked excitedly at his feet.

“Merry Christmas, Jacob... Say hi to Tonya for me, but I have a date.”

“You’re busier than the president, kid.”

...

Dean drove to his girlfriend’s house and picked up Abby and Gretchen, both dressed in matching red long dresses as Christmas ladies.

The three exchanged gifts.

“Ladies, I’ll ask one last time: Are you sure you don’t want to spend Christmas with your families?”

“We’ve told them, it’s fine. Let’s go, Dean. Don’t keep Baker and Janet waiting.” Abby sat obediently in the back seat, opening her gift box happily and playing with a hairpin.

“Open your mouth.” Gretchen sat in the front passenger seat and handed him an almond pudding.

“Hold tight, I’m accelerating!”

The car quickly reached the commercial street.

Although the sun had set, this Christmas night was as bright as day. The streets were crowded, and everyone wore joyful smiles.

“This way!”

By the pedestrian street’s railings, Baker and Janet, dressed in Christmas couple outfits, waved cheerfully at the three.

Lester and Britney were fully preparing for their university interviews and couldn’t come.

“Merry Christmas! Nice outfit!”

Dean curiously patted Baker’s snow-white “big belly,” who pulled out a gingerbread man from his red hat and white beard and handed it over.

“Buddy, you’re not bad either—one percent better looking than me—but tonight, I’m definitely the star!”

“All right, you’re the boss. Let’s go, everyone, to the pedestrian street to watch the show!”

...

The five walked toward the dense crowd, occasionally buying discounted items from shops along the street, playing shooting balloons, throwing knives, basketball tossing, claw machines, and other mini-games at street stalls.

They had a great time.

“Try this...” Gretchen handed Dean a rainbow candy cane.

Dean crunched a few bites, raised an eyebrow, and glanced at his rosy-cheeked girlfriend.

“What’s wrong? Not tasty?”

“You’ll know once you try.” Dean lightly touched her moist, red lips. The girl boldly wrapped her arms around his neck.

Abby, watching, slowed her steps and moved to the left, but Baker and Janet were even more outrageous, practically squeezing into each other’s bodies.

Sigh.

Abby’s expression darkened; feeling lonely, she stuffed a Santa cotton candy into her mouth, forcing herself to admire the street scene to distract herself.

The shop windows glowed warmly and brightly.

The music of “Jingle Bells, Jingle Bells, Jingle all the way” flowed like a stream, dispelling the night’s chill.

Every tree was hung with colorful lights and decorations, complemented by neon lights of various colors, creating a dazzling, beautiful spectacle.

Small floral carts adorned with balloons rolled along the street. One by one, Santas with red hats and white beards, carrying red peace bags, handed out delicately shaped snowman cotton candies to passersby.

Every corner exuded a festive atmosphere.

...

At the pedestrian street’s center, performers in unique costumes—acrobats, magicians, funny clowns, and body painting artists—competed for attention.

The stage surrounded by Christmas trees was the liveliest, gathering hundreds of people, almost all dressed in red, like a surging red ocean.

On stage, to the pleasant melody of Jingle Bells, female dancers in colorful tutu skirts and men in suspenders joyfully swayed, hands clasped behind their backs, twisting their waists, moving rhythmically.

The audience humorously mimicked their moves, dancing along with the music.

Baker shouted excitedly, writhing like a snake back-to-back with Janet. Gretchen held Dean’s hand, who was constantly saying “chicken,” pulling an excited, flushed Abby into a circle.

Dean was immersed. The chaos and irritation caused by the Nightwalker in the past month gradually faded away.

Positive emotions resisted the negative ones.

The genuine joy of Christmas seemed to form positive energy fields, healing the dark, accumulated negative feelings within him, making his mood lively and joyful.

...

Yet, amid such a beautiful and joyful scene, someone spoiled the mood.

A strange young white man, eyeing Gretchen’s angelic face and devilish figure beneath her red dress, tried to get close and take advantage.

But when he was about ten meters away, he was pushed back by a strange force, shoved into the crowd, as if an invisible yet solid air wall stood before him.

“Fuck, did I just run into a ghost?”

He tried repeatedly, but mysteriously, his back and soles were stepped and kicked, causing him to fall flat several times. Terrified, he ran away.

...

Dean, the protector, watched the retreating figure with a smile and relaxed his telekinesis.

“What are you laughing at?”

Gretchen tucked her hair behind her ear; her sweaty cheeks flushed with a rosy glow.

“That guy looked like a dog.”

...

The group danced to their hearts’ content, then went to the cinema to watch a newly released film starring Jane Fonda, *9 to 5*.

It was about three women oppressed at work who accidentally poison their sexist male boss with rat poison, then start boldly reforming the company, causing a series of hilarious mishaps.

Gretchen, Abby, and Janet watched the big screen intently, eyes full of longing.

Dean and Baker broke out in cold sweats.

“Careful, Baker. If you ever betray me, I’ll poison you with rat poison!” Janet mimicked stirring coffee from the screen.

“Can you add two extra sugars in the rat poison?” Baker shamelessly hugged her waist, leaning in with his greasy mouth. “Even if I die, I want to die sweetly.”

“Ahem...” Anne cautiously glanced at Gretchen, whose eyes shone brightly.

If he remembered correctly, she was somewhat feminist.

“Dean, will you become one of those disgusting, macho, balding men?” Suddenly, Abby’s voice came from beside Gretchen, and two pairs of eyes interrogated his soul.

“No way...” Dean confidently touched his neat buzz cut, flexed his developed biceps, and said decisively, “Before I go bald, I’ll just shave it all off. Then I’ll be even stronger.”

...

The movie ended around 10 p.m., but the streets were still flooded with joyous crowds. Baker and Janet said goodbye and slipped away to find seats in the crowded hotel.

Dean drove Abby home and walked slowly with Gretchen under the hazy moonlight and Christmas lights of the neighborhood.

They talked about the future.

After graduation, Gretchen planned to pass the LVPD preliminary exam thanks to her father Thomas’s connections, then attend police academy out of town for six months, work hard to pass the assessments, and return to LVPD for duty.

Dean joked that he intended to be an unemployed vagabond, part-time detective, medium, assassin... “Future Detective Gretchen, if I fall into your hands, go easy on me.”

“Then you better behave.” Gretchen lifted her sharp chin, her blue eyes flashing a warning. “If you dare break my law, I’ll chase you with parking tickets every day. Got it?”

“Yes, Madam! Now come to my place and help me with my ‘legal issues’?”

“Unfortunately, Thomas insists I be home before eleven tonight.”

“Then I’ll come to your place?” Dean’s eyes gleamed with a hint of excitement.

“When did you get so bold? Aren’t you afraid of getting caught and shot?”

Gretchen crossed her trembling arms over her chest, smiling.

“I’ll climb in through your window... Oh, and lock Coco in the basement first. Don’t let her smell me, or the date’s definitely off.”

“...Baker’s corrupting you.”

“Do you like it?”

Dean wrapped his arm around her waist.

Under the moonlight, their intertwined shadows stretched long.

(End of chapter)