108. The Return of Paqui

After the escort girl case, Dean’s life returned to its normal rhythm of school and training. After all, commissions from a lawyer like Lucville didn’t come by every day.

Holden, on the other hand, had become intensely passionate about the supernatural after witnessing a ghost firsthand. He would come over to Dean’s house for dinner every day after work, eager to discuss the knowledge he had gathered on spiritualism and to invite Dean to practice summoning rituals in nearby abandoned houses where people had died.

In return, Holden taught Dean some introductory theories on criminal profiling, as well as practical psychological tricks for overcoming negative emotions and soothing the emotions of others. Dean, who had originally suffered from mental instability and wild mood swings, found these techniques immensely beneficial and practiced them diligently.

Amidst this fulfilling life, January slipped away in the blink of an eye.

...

In the Gretchen family’s living room.

"In the early hours of February 5, 1981, a shooting occurred in the back alley of the Henderson Sixth Street Tunnel Bar. A forty-year-old man was killed. It is reported that the deceased had recently been charged with robbery and murder but was released due to insufficient evidence."

After a flicker of television static, a voluptuous female reporter with blonde hair, blue eyes, and a red low-cut dress appeared on the screen.

"This is the third such attack in the Las Vegas area this month... Surveillance footage indicates that the perpetrator is the same individual: approximately six-foot-three, wearing a black leather jacket, sunglasses, and a black mask, riding a black Indian Chief motorcycle... If you have any further clues, please call 432... to contact the news station. A substantial reward is offered."

"This has been Catherine Medici, reporting for Vegas Morning News. Please stay tuned for further updates..."

*Zzz—*

Standing in front of the coffee table, wearing only a pair of shorts that revealed his well-developed muscles, Dean turned off the television.

"It’s time to change the Jane Harden identity. I can’t keep committing crimes in the short term."

From January to February, he had changed his approach to shapeshifting, using the LVPD and Holden’s channels to access files on criminals suspected of robbery, rape, and child abuse—people the law could not punish.

So, wearing a copied face, Dean took the initiative to track down and kill three pieces of human trash. This was far more efficient than aimlessly searching for criminals on a motorcycle as he had done before.

He had finally maxed out his shapeshifting proficiency.

Shapeshifting Lv1 (4/200):
Blood replication time: 1 day → 4 hours
Maximum shapeshifting duration: 2 days → 4 days
Shapeshifting cooldown: 7 days → 4 days

Dean rubbed his chin.

"The interval has shortened from one week to four days, seven times a month, but the maximum proficiency gain per instance has been reduced to 4 points."

"That’s 28 points a month; it will take seven months to fill the 200 points needed for an upgrade."

"Skill progression is getting harder and harder."

...

However, the level-up in shapeshifting also brought a +1 increase to his physique: 14.6 → 15.6.

Dean recalled the experience with a lingering sense of dread. Breaking the threshold of 15 was even more painful than the first time he had shapeshifted. His entire body felt as if it had been scorched by flames for five minutes; the pain was so intense he nearly shattered his own teeth, but the benefits were immense.

Dean reached out to rub his arm. His skin was as smooth as silk; the ugly scars from before had vanished completely, as if he had never been injured at all.

Dean closed his eyes to feel his body. His heartbeat was steady and powerful; he could hear the blood rushing through his veins. The surging vitality within him acted like a warm furnace, constantly tempering his body.

Coupled with his Intermediate Iron Man endurance, he was now virtually immune to heat and cold and felt no fatigue. He could maintain two full days of energy with only three hours of sleep. At the same time, the defensive capabilities of his skin, muscles, and bones had reached superhuman levels.

He could spar bare-handed with combat enthusiasts like Gretchen, allowing them to strike him anywhere as long as he protected his vital points, and he wouldn't suffer any damage. Even if an opponent held a knife, unless they struck his vital areas with full force, they would only manage to lightly scratch his skin.

...

Dean looked at his interface:

Character Level: 3 (200/400)
Age: 18
Physique: 15.6
Strength: 12.4
Agility: 13.2
Perception: 11.9
Spirit: 15.3
Willpower: 13.3
Perks: Intermediate Iron Man, Primary Supernatural Hunter
Abilities: 5/5
Combat Lv2 (135/300)
Shooting Lv2 (70/300)
Shadow of the Past Lv1 (117/200)
Balanced Meditation Lv2 (40/300)
Shapeshifting Lv1 (4/200)
System Ability: God’s Eye View Lv2: 20-meter range.

"For now, I’ll stick to low-key, steady training and development while waiting for the next convergence of laws."

"It’s a pity that I still have no leads on expanding my 5/5 ability slots."

"What’s a pity? Why are you up so early?"

A soft greeting interrupted Dean’s thoughts. A warm, shapely body pressed tightly against his broad back from behind, and a pair of arms wrapped around his waist.

Gretchen rested her chin on his shoulder and playfully blew a puff of warm air, strands of black hair brushing against his cheek, while her cool, small hands wandered restlessly over his chest and abdominal muscles.

Dean smiled and stroked her hair.

"Is this early? It’s five in the afternoon. If I stay any later, Martina and Thomas will be back from their date. If they find me sleeping with their daughter in their house, they’ll hunt me to the ends of the earth."

As he spoke, he patted Gretchen’s hair and lightning-fastly pulled on his clothes.

"I’m off. See you later."

...

In the evening, Dean hurried home.

From a distance, he saw thin wisps of smoke rising from the yard across the way, like cotton candy dotted amidst the orange-red sunset clouds, emitting the mouth-watering aromas of pepper, lemon juice, honey, and ketchup.

As Dean entered the yard, he saw Jacob, wearing denim overalls and looking as bulky as a grizzly bear, and Tonya, in her black-and-white nun’s habit, applying seasoning to the grilled meat.

"Where did you go today? Come and have a taste." Tonya smiled kindly, handing him a plate of sizzling, oily brisket mixed with pieces of crispy roasted potatoes.

"Mmm... Auntie’s cooking is as amazing as ever." Dean puffed out the hot steam and gave a thumbs up.

"Don't just eat, come over and help with the basting." Jacob handed him a wool brush, but exchanged a subtle glance with Tonya.

Dean’s heart stirred. He activated God’s Eye View, scanning the interior of the two-story house behind him, and was shocked to find a tall, dark shadow hiding inside.

Dean pretended to be oblivious, dipping the brush, basting the meat, and flipping it.

"Silly kid, where did that quickness you use with a gun go? You can’t even baste meat properly. Watch my technique." Jacob immediately began chattering incessantly to distract him.

Tonya wiped the grease from her hands with a white cloth and quietly moved to his left, forming a pincer movement with Jacob.

A tall figure stepped out of the room on tiptoes, holding his breath and moving silently toward the grill.

One step, two steps, three steps.

Dean wiped the sweat from his forehead, acting as if he knew nothing.

The shadow’s mouth curled into a ferocious grin. He hunched his shoulders, bent his knees, and threw his arms out, lunging toward Dean’s lower back.

A fierce gust of wind roared as the mountain-like shadow bore down on the seemingly unsuspecting youth.

At the very moment the ambush was about to succeed, Dean suddenly turned, bent his knees, lowered his head, and arched his back, weaving through the man’s grasping arms with the agility of a wildcat, diving straight into the man’s wide-open chest.

Dean wrapped his arms around him!

Muscles rippled under his shirt as his steel-like arms locked tight around the man’s waist. He drove forward with his legs, like a charging rhino, lifting the man off the ground and carrying him backward for two meters.

*Thump!*

He slammed him down hard.

Dean used his momentum and body weight to pin him.

The ground shook slightly. The attacker let out a muffled grunt; in an instant, he was pinned to the ground, unable to break free no matter how hard he tried!

"Shit!"

"I surrender!"

The man tapped the lawn twice with his left hand. Dean released his hold and pulled him up.

"You brat, do you have eyes in the back of your head? How did you sense that? Are you trying to murder me with that strength?" The yellow-skinned man with his black hair tied in a ponytail—a burly fellow who looked like a temple guardian—rubbed his lower back. Despite his weather-beaten, fierce-looking face, a look of gratification shone in his eyes.

Even though it was winter and the temperature was low, he was still wearing only a grey vest, revealing two arms as strong and muscular as rock.

"I’m just giving as good as I get. Isn’t that what you always taught me?"

Dean looked up with a knowing smile, opened his arms, and gave the man a heavy hug.

"Welcome home, Uncle Paco!"

Tonya and Jacob stood side by side, watching the two family members reunite, their smiles growing even brighter.