58. An Invitation to Journey Afar

“Mmm... comfortable...”

When Dean woke up the next day, he felt completely refreshed. The nightmares of the ghost Alexander had faded away, and even the pain from his wounds had subsided.

“The effect is immediate.”

He glanced at the system: Balanced Meditation lv0 (1/100).

“One session of meditation, plus trial and error, took three hours in total and increased one point of proficiency. Not bad at all.”

But the process had been rather unsettling.

For the first hour, the more he tried to clear his mind, the more restless and distracted he became. He couldn’t even sit still, let alone visualize the stars.

However, the skill was unique in its own way.

After a difficult thirty minutes, he gradually calmed down, relaxed his body completely, and emptied his mind. In a hazy state, he simply felt his breath and the vibrant energy coursing through his body.

Although he didn’t manage to meditate upon a star aligned with his own nature, this selfless state was tremendously beneficial. It was as if his body and mind had been cleansed, all negative emotions washed away.

A gentle sense of contentment lingered within him.

...

“Feeling better?” Holden and Alvin, supporting himself with a crutch, pushed open the door. They placed a hot dog loaded with onions and two cartons of milk on the bedside table, then set down a thick folder.

“You’ll be fully healed in less than a month,” Dean said, grabbing the sandwich without hesitation and taking huge bites. “Bring two more meat pies later.”

Holden grinned enviously and sat by the bed. “Alvin and I are heading to Compton, Los Angeles, tomorrow for a month or two to gather and organize evidence for the lawsuit against the Blood Gang.”

As he spoke, he slapped the folder onto Dean’s leg. “Your background check has passed. Take this time to read through the LVPD volunteer training materials. Get yourself well, then go through the training. Once you pass, you can officially join.”

Dean flipped through the folder—first aid, law... unfamiliar yet familiar.

“Although you not only burned down a house but also ended up covered in wounds, the outcome was good, and at least you didn’t commit any serious crimes,” Holden said, patting Dean’s shoulder with a glimmer of approval and encouragement in his eyes. “Next time there’s a mission, let’s work together again.”

Dean nodded. For now, he still needed their channels to provide him with cases and assist with basic investigations. However—

“Holden, before you leave, shouldn’t we settle the accounts? Last time, the supplies cost over seven hundred dollars, plus the three-hundred-dollar monthly stipend you promised, so let’s call it an even thousand. Check or transfer?”

Holden’s expression froze. The hand that had been patting Dean’s shoulder hung awkwardly in the air, then he reluctantly handed over a check for a thousand dollars.

Dean’s savings rose to eighteen hundred dollars again.

...

The next week passed peacefully. Holden and Alvin left for Los Angeles.

Dean stayed alone in the hospital, studying the volunteer materials and repeatedly honing his mind, summoning the “Shadow” and watching it maneuver the Ouija board, darting noisily across the room.

He felt the same thrill as operating a drone with a remote control in the future—but this was the superpowered version.

Moreover, Dean discovered another benefit of the Ouija board: as long as the “Shadow” resided within, it gained an automatic training buff.

Every twenty-four hours, proficiency increased by one point.

This was several times more efficient than before, when it took days to gain a single point. In less than three months, the “Shadow of the Past” would level up!

...

Every time he exhausted his mind by controlling the “Ouija drone,” Dean would follow up with another round of Balanced Meditation.

After meditating, his mind would be replenished, ready for further tempering.

This formed a positive cycle.

Unable to exercise intensely while recovering, he spent over twelve hours a day meditating—four rounds, which meant four proficiency points.

In just one week, Balanced Meditation reached lv0 (28/100).

With his progress, he began to faintly perceive a dim star, sensing a weak yet unbreakable bond between himself and that celestial body.

Each time they connected, a subtle joy welled up from within.

If he weren’t interrupted by the outside world, Dean could meditate alone for an entire summer.

...

A few days later, two familiar visitors arrived in his hospital room.

“I’m impressed—how long has it been since you ended up battered and bruised again?” Rust set a thermos of “red ginseng and minced meat soup” on the bedside table, then reached for Dean’s hair, which had only just started to grow back and left him nearly bald.

“It’s just a minor injury, nothing serious,” Dean brushed his hand away, shooting him a death glare, and opened the thermos to drink.

“That’s not a minor injury,” Rust retracted his hand sheepishly, eyeing his friend’s new look with interest. “Bald suits you. Much better than that short black hair before. If you show up at school like this, you’ll be swarmed by all the girls.”

“Swarmed? You mean mocked in the corridors.”

“Rust isn’t lying,” Brittany chimed in with a hint of admiration in her eyes, handing Dean a peeled apple. “Bald looks more mature and unique on you.”

Dean’s eyelid twitched. He couldn’t help but doubt himself. Even the model student said so—could bald really suit him?

“Is that a burn?” Brittany suddenly paled.

Dean stretched out his right hand from under the covers, revealing an ugly scar the size of a fingernail on the back of his hand.

“Yeah.”

“Will it fade?” Rust asked, worry etched on his face. “Or will it always look... this obvious?”

“It’s normal for a man to have a few scars,” Dean said casually, gazing out the window. “Scars are a sign of growth.”

“If Caroline saw your injuries, imagine how upset she’d be,” Brittany sighed.

Her mention of Caroline made Dean miss his blonde, twin-tailed girlfriend. It had been almost a month since he’d last seen her.

“Enough about me—how’s the promotion for Caroline’s group going?”

“It’s going well. ‘Tears in Heaven’ is selling quite nicely...” Brittany recalled. “They just finished in Nevada and should be in Portland, Oregon right now.”

“She’s so busy she barely touches the ground. She doesn’t know you’re hospitalized and injured, so she hasn’t come to see you.”

“I understand,” Dean nodded. “By the way, how long until I’m discharged?”

“The doctor says late July. Why?”

Rust and Brittany exchanged a meaningful glance.

“To keep you from getting bored while you’re in the hospital, starting tomorrow, the two of us will bring you a nutritious breakfast every morning and help you review math and science.”

“Next spring is when college decisions are made. You should be working hard with us.”

“I don’t need that. I can handle myself.”

“Don’t be stubborn. Grace made it very clear—I must deliver her delicious cooking to you every day, or I’ll get an earful when I get home!”

“Don’t refuse,” Brittany added. “Grace keeps saying that if you hadn’t stepped in at Lake Mead, she’d have lost a son. She’s determined to show her gratitude, or she’ll never forgive herself.”

“And besides, you’re my best friend,” Rust said sincerely, throwing an arm around Dean. “How could I let you lie here all alone? There’s nothing more miserable or lonely than being hospitalized by yourself.”

Dean looked helpless, but his heart felt warm; any traces of annoyance melted away.

“If you two don’t mind me being a third wheel, then come.”

“Great. One more thing—just giving you a heads up. When you’re discharged, it’ll be right in time for Brittany’s birthday...” Rust paused, then continued, “We’ll need you to take a trip with us to celebrate and help Brittany enjoy her day.”

“Hold on, what kind of trip? I haven’t agreed to anything.”

Rust acted as if he hadn’t heard Dean’s protest and kept making plans.

“Since we’re all still a bit shaken by the Lake Mead incident, we picked somewhere farther away this time. We’ll drive west from Las Vegas to a spot in the middle of the Nevada mountains, hike, climb, camp overnight, then head further west to Santa Monica Beach.”

“Bro, some of Brittany’s good friends are coming too. We need you to drive your Bronco. Don’t worry—they’re all nice people, just like us, total bookworms. You’ll get along just fine.”

“Wait! Don’t you think a bunch of high schoolers going somewhere that remote is kind of dangerous?”

“That’s why we need you, our resident kung fu master, to watch over us. Please?” Rust pressed his palms together, pleading. “Brittany’s always wanted to go out there, and she’s about to turn nineteen. I just want to make her wish come true. It’ll only take about a week of your time.”

Dean glanced at Brittany. The model student blinked her big eyes, trying to win him over.

“If you don’t get out of town during summer break, it’s not a real summer. We’re young—we can’t just focus on shooting, muscles, and training all the time. Relaxing and socializing is part of healthy living!” Rust pleaded earnestly.

Dean looked away, feeling the itch for some adventure himself—a week wasn’t too long, after all.

“All right.”

“Yes!” Rust high-fived Brittany, scooped up a spoonful of soup from the thermos, and brought it to Dean’s mouth. “Here, open up. Try the soup Grace made—it’s perfect for someone recovering their strength.”

“Don’t be so mushy. Put down the spoon—I can eat on my own, thanks.”