135. Travel and Experiment
Back at the hotel, Dean immediately stashed the various weapons, equipment, and supplies from his car trunk into the fantasy space.
Entering his guest room, he took out the compact M1900 along with a box of .45 Colt automatic pistol rounds and a box of 9mm Parabellum automatic pistol rounds, and attempted to load them.
Even though the black magazine of the M1900 looked tiny, ostensibly designed only for .32 ACP, the oversized bullets slid into the magazine with astonishing smoothness as Dean fed them in.
It was as if the moment his finger pushed a bullet toward the magazine, the magazine momentarily expanded and automatically sucked the bullet inside. Moreover, mixing and loading ten rounds of .45 ACP and ten rounds of 9mm Parabellum posed no problem at all.
The loading speed also far exceeded that of a standard pistol.
".45 ACP has strong stopping power, while 9mm Parabellum has high penetration... I can choose based on different situations."
"I'll buy some .44 Magnum for hunting later... to deal with the big guys."
"With this single handgun, I possess every type of pistol, including the Desert Eagle and Glock 17 which haven't even been invented yet... and their power remains undiminished, while the gunshot noise and recoil are reduced by ninety percent. It truly lives up to the name of omnipotence."
Dean played with the M1900 admiringly before moving on to test the fantasy space, using whatever was at hand in the hotel—slippers, a desk lamp, a blanket, and even the television—stashing them into the space and pulling them right back out.
On a whim, he also activated his newly upgraded God's Perspective, peering through thick walls to observe the every move of guests in other rooms within a thirty-meter radius.
He had a thoroughly entertaining time.
......
After experimenting for quite a while, the fatigue from his battle with the bat-harpy began to catch up with him.
He changed into a soft, loose pair of pajamas, sat cross-legged on the bed with his knees slightly apart at shoulder width, his hips resting on his heels, eyes gently closed, and back held straight.
His posture mirrored the Vajra pose in yoga.
His chest rose and fell in a steady, subtle rhythm while his mind visualized the celestial body known as the "Red Dragon" orbiting in the cosmos.
At a certain moment, he transitioned smoothly from stillness into motion. Using his hands, he pulled his left and right heels sequentially toward his navel, folding into an extreme seated embrace of his feet, then stretched his arms forward, turned his palms inward to rest on the floor before him with his fingers pointing backward, and extended his legs out behind him, touching his knees to the bed as points of support.
Pressing his lower ribs against his elbows, he exhaled—
The blanket fluttered like cotton under the gust of his breath.
Dean shifted his torso forward, transferring his center of gravity to his wrists and hands resting on the mattress, slowly lifted his legs backward into the air, and finally suspended them straight, muscles tensed, forming an inverted diagonal line with his head pointing down.
His raised legs resembled a peacock spreading its tail feathers.
......
Maintaining this motionless posture through sheer willpower, superhuman physique, strength, and agility, Dean held it for two full minutes.
Only when sweat beaded on his forehead did he sit back up on the mattress, relaxing his body to release the pose.
Previously, Red Dragon Meditation was entirely static, but now it incorporated a series of auxiliary movements with extremely high demands on flexibility, strength, and endurance, increasing the difficulty exponentially.
Had Dean not long converted Red Dragon Meditation into a skill and engraved it into his bodily instincts, he would have been incapable of entering meditation while in motion.
By the way, he had no intention of revealing the complete Red Dragon Meditation to Reuben.
......
The next morning, a refreshed Dean finished washing up, changed into athletic wear, and caught a reflection of himself in the mirror, grinning brightly with high spirits.
His skill proficiency had also ticked up slightly: Red Dragon Meditation Lv.2 (63/300).
He left the hotel and headed to the hospital. Upon reaching the doorway of the ward, however, he found the place bustling with activity like a shopping mall.
Journalists with cameras and boom mics, police officers maintaining order, and curious patients were all crowded around Reuben's hospital room. Dean pushed his way in and caught snippets of conversation about miracles, surviving half a year as a wanderer, and paternal love moving God.
"Excuse me, pardon me for a moment." The old man in the ward spotted Dean, immediately excused himself to a few acquaintances, and led him toward a secluded corner, lowering his voice to explain, "An unethical doctor leaked the news of Reuben's return. Journalists swarmed in like cats smelling fish guts, and the police also came to question him about his six months of disappearance to close the case files."
"How did I warn you before?" Dean frowned and shook his head. "Reuben's secret must never be leaked."
"Don't worry, I sternly warned the kid. He's not an idiot, and he certainly doesn't want to be locked up in a psychiatric asylum. He'll keep his mouth completely shut, and even his best friend Jero won't know a shred of the truth."
"Then how are you explaining it to the outside world?"
"Six months ago, Reuben's manuscripts were rejected by the publishing house. Despairing and heavily intoxicated, he acted on impulse, left Reno on foot, and began wandering everywhere."
"When he could no longer endure it, he hiked back relying on his memory, only to collapse on the Virginia Street bridge where I, a father searching for him, happened to rescue him and bring him to the hospital."
"Television stations and publishing houses heard of his legendary experience and are actually willing to pay a hefty sum to republish his work."
Dean could not help but sigh at how theatrical fate could be.
"Publishing is fine, but not a single word that shouldn't be mentioned should escape, or not even God can save you."
Marco gave a solemn promise, then looked back at his son, who was awkwardly yet excitedly giving an interview by the hospital bed, a smile cracking the corners of his mouth.
"There are too many people, so I won't go in. Pass along a message for me: tell Reuben to train hard. I have a suggestion—at this stage, he can keep a journal documenting his daily training to improve efficiency and physical fitness."
Reuben's ability seemed closely tied to reality; he could not conjure things completely out of thin air or write entirely detached from logic.
The more closely the plots of his works aligned with reality, the higher the probability that the events in his books would manifest into reality.
Marco nodded. "Once everyone leaves, I'll have him try it."
"I need to pick up my girlfriend for a trip to Lake Tahoe, I'll come check on you guys in a couple of days."
"Shall I help you find a good tour guide?"
"No need."
"Then please accept our token of appreciation." Marco handed Dean a large check for ten thousand dollars. "I thought about it again; you gave Reuben a new lease on life, you deserve more."
......
Dean accepted the check, pushing his savings back up to 140,000.
He promptly left the hospital, entered a shopping mall to buy a bouquet of roses and some supplies, and stowed them away into the fantasy space.
Beside the bouquet lay various weapons, ammunition, a dozen emergency energy bars, and a few bottles of drinking water. However, because the spirit board was occupied with nurturing the Shadow of Yesteryear, it could not be placed inside the space.
Though two cubic meters sounded minuscule, the fantasy property ensured that not a single corner or crevice was wasted, allowing it to hold significantly more items than a conventional two-cubic-meter space.
Additionally, Dean had tested it several times: the temperature inside the fantasy space remained fairly constant around seven or eight degrees Celsius, the lighting was soft and moderate, and because of a slight intersection with the outside world, the space contained a thin layer of air.
Dean could make minor adjustments to the space using his subjective consciousness, making it brighter or dimmer.
Environmental conditions like temperature were similarly adjustable within a certain range around the ambient temperature.
These adjustments required no energy expenditure and took effect immediately, making them both convenient and efficient.
......
Preparation complete, Dean drove out of downtown Reno and headed southeast to the Reno-Tahoe International Airport in Washoe County, arriving at the terminal around nine in the morning.
"Gretchen, over here!"
Dean waved toward the arrival hall.
A pretty girl in a blue athletic suit with a single-shoulder backpack turned around, flashed a radiant smile, trotted over, and leaped onto him, wrapping her legs around him like a sloth.
Dean spun her around once, breathed in the familiar scent of her braided pigtails, bowed slightly, and took the backpack from her hand.
"Welcome to Reno, your tour guide Dean is at your service."
"Glad you have a conscience and didn't spend your entire spring break traveling while leaving me stranded and ignored in Las Vegas," the girl punched him playfully in the chest, half in complaint.
Dean offered an apologetic smile. Lately, preoccupied with the Law of Convergence, he had indeed neglected his girlfriend somewhat.
But now he realized that sooner or later, he would have to face it rather than hide.
Besides, in just a few months, he would graduate and leave anyway.
"By the way, I have a surprise for you."
Dean held out his open palm in front of her. "Watch closely, don't blink."
Gretchen crossed her arms with a slight curve to her lips as she watched him playfully wave his hand rapidly in front of her eyes for a few seconds, during which he mischievously brushed her chin.
The next instant, Gretchen's bright blue eyes widened in astonishment, her hands flying up to cover her red lips.
With a sudden grab of his darting hand, Dean seemingly plucked a vibrant, dew-kissed bouquet of roses right out of thin air.
A little blonde girl nearby, holding her mother's hand and looking around curiously, happened to witness the spectacle, her chubby mouth dropping into an "O" shape.
"For you." Dean presented the roses to Gretchen, who hugged them to her chest in sweet surprise, inhaling their fragrance.
The bright red roses set off her fair, delicate face, adding a touch of alluring charm.
Gretchen cuddled against him as they walked out of the terminal, blinking her blue eyes with curiosity. "When did you learn magic?"
"I just took an apprenticeship right here in Reno, and you're my very first audience." Dean had essentially unlocked a new application for the fantasy space today.
Gretchen leaned over in satisfaction and planted a kiss on his cheek.
Bantering all the way, the two got into the car and drove up the winding mountain road, heading straight for the Lake Tahoe region.
"Martina actually wanted to invite Thomas along for the trip too, but unfortunately, Thomas is buried up to his ears in work and couldn't come." In the passenger seat, Gretchen unceremoniously peeled a chocolate piece, popped half into her mouth, and held the other half out to Dean as he drove.
"Hmm... another new case?" Dean glanced at her wet, glossy lips and asked.
"Still that Red Dragon Club case from before. The Fifth Squad was assigned to a newly arrived FBI agent named Bradley Lincoln, and we have to work overtime every single day cooperating with that workaholic."
Did the captain really get canned? And another FBI agent showed up?
Looking out the window at the winding mountain road, Dean frowned. "Any progress on the case?"
"According to Thomas, the three bodyguards who escaped from the Red Dragon Club are still at large," Gretchen said casually. "As far as I'm concerned, the new FBI guy will probably slink away with his tail between his legs in a few months."
"Alright, let's not talk about these annoying things." Dean quietly breathed a sigh of relief. "Have you ever been to Reno before?"
"Nope!" Gretchen said with a hop of excitement. "But I heard there are ski resorts, cable cars, the most beautiful lake... you can fish and hike. Do you think I can try skiing?"
"I'll keep you company and let you play to your heart's content this time."
......
As the slope of the road increased, the evergreen trees on both sides of the mountain forest grew more abundant, draped in silver frost, and patches of accumulated snow could be seen everywhere near the soil and withered branches by the roadside.
Down at the foot of the mountain, the temperature was in the low twenties, sunny, and pleasantly mild, whereas high up in the shaded mountain heights, the altitude was extreme and snow remained year-round without melting.
It formed a stark contrast.
The two drove for several hours, leaving the city far behind and pushing deeper into the fresh-aired mountain forests.
At a certain moment, they arrived at a secluded, pristine spot along the shores of Lake Tahoe with breathtaking scenery.
Behind them stood rolling, snow-capped dwarf mountains interspersed with picturesque snow slopes.
The clouds in the sky were exceptionally magnificent—thick and voluminous like cotton balls, seeming so close at hand that they felt reachable with an outstretched hand, and so pure white without a speck of impurity that it looked as though snow flurries from the mountainsides had drifted into the sky to become clouds.
Directly ahead lay the boundless Lake Tahoe, its surface as deep and blue as a sapphire, while the water near the shore displayed different color gradients based on its depth.
Further in the distance along the coastline, the undulating structures of resort complexes were faintly visible.
Gazing into the distance, the blue sky, white clouds, snow mountains, green waters, and the grass beneath their feet merged into one, looking as picturesque as a distant landscape painting.
Standing nearby, Dean felt as though both his body and soul had been cleansed, completely intoxicated and lost in the view.
......
"Bang!"
Instinctively, he ducked downward.
A clump of snow exploded on the grass behind him.
Lifting his head, he saw Gretchen bending down to gather "ammunition" from the ground. Soon, she scooped up a snowball in her right hand, crooked her finger at him with a provocative, radiant smile, and declared,
"Today I'm going to make you taste the flavor of utter defeat!"
A gentle breeze stirred the bangs on Gretchen's forehead, brushing past the curved corners of her delicate mouth. That stunning smile momentarily dazzled Dean.
From Dean's angle, the lake behind her and the white snow at her feet made her skin look even fairer, while her tall, athletic figure appeared all the more curvaceous and pronounced in her sportswear.
The scenery was beautiful, but the person even more so.
Dean decided to teach this American belle a profound lesson, grabbed a snowball, and charged forward.
Before long, Dean had tackled this defeated opponent into the bushes, teaching her a thoroughly breathless and memorable lesson.
......
After a long while, the two drenched and exhausted figures separated. Gretchen pressed a hand against her heaving chest to catch her breath, threw her sneakers at Dean out of playful petulance, and ran barefoot toward the lake.
A trail of tiny footprints was left behind in the sand.
"If you want to swim, we should book a hotel first. The water's freezing this time of year, don't catch a cold," Dean shouted advice from behind.
"Stop talking nonsense, do you dare race me in swimming to see who reaches the opposite pier first?" The woman lifted her chin, issuing a second defiant challenge, her fair face still flushed with a rosy glow, her blue eyes shimmering with water ripples. "The winner decides today's dinner."
"Naive. Do you really think changing events will help you win?"
Dean decisively accepted the challenge.
"I'll let you taste another 'lesson'."
The two retrieved their swimwear from the car and changed. Gretchen even braided her hair and put on a swimming cap.
Having already warmed up their bodies through the intense physical activity earlier, they skipped the warm-up exercises and went straight into the water.
The water temperature was very low.
However, their physical stamina was high, and both could endure it.
Gretchen was dead set on washing away her shame, plunging headfirst toward the pier on the opposite shore. Her thrashing arms parted crystal-clear ripples, her fair skin and proud figure flashing in and out of view, moving as gracefully as a mermaid.
Meanwhile, Dean mimicked a freestyle stroke to chase lazily behind her for a moment. Taking advantage of her inattention, he slowed his pace, activated God's Perspective, and scanned twenty meters underwater in the lake area.
He quickly located a trout covered in pale speckles.
With a thought from Dean, the "Shadow" flew out of the spirit board, its translucent, hazy form transforming into a jellyfish-like translucent net that drifted toward the trout. Before the fish realized what was happening, it scooped it right into the center and delivered it before Dean.
This trout was about the length of a forearm, lively and full of energy—100% wild game.
However, Dean had no intention of eating it; instead, he retrieved the M1900 he had acquired just yesterday from the fantasy space.
This gun had been modified by Johnny to function normally underwater. The muzzle rested zero-distance against the edge of the red-spotted trout's left pectoral fin.
Tracking Mode!
Dean thought to himself. A slight sting pricked his palm as a drop of blood was absorbed into the gun.
He then squeezed the trigger.
Bang!
The gunshot rang out.
The heavily muffled sound of firing was completely swallowed by the chilling lake water.
The exiting bullet carried immense kinetic energy, dragging a long trail of colorful bubbles through the water.
Blood bloomed outward in its wake.
The blood-adhered .45 ACP grazed the trout's pectoral fin. Stung by the impact, the trout instantly darted away into the distant waters at high speed.
Immediately afterward, a profound sensation arose deep within Dean's mind—not a smell or a sound, but a powerful, visualizable intuition: a pale red, winding path like a silken thread.
This path guided him toward the trout's current location, calculating the distance with an error margin of under a meter.
His perception seemed to weave a massive net.
And this marked fish was the prey trapped within the net, unable to escape no matter how it struggled.
Even after the wounded trout swam about a mile away, he could still precisely perceive its coordinates.
"The tracking effect is even more concrete and powerful than I expected."
"I still need to test the maximum tracking range and duration."
"You lost!"
A cheerful, triumphant voice suddenly drifted across the lake's surface.
Gretchen stood on the pier with her hands on her hips, a smile curling on her red lips, the sunlight casting a delicate golden sheen over her expanse of wet, fair skin.
Biu!
Dean made an aiming hand-gesture and swam toward her.
*(Thanks to Feng Gou Lang Sha and Bookworm 20191020065143941 for their tips and support! Thanks to everyone for the monthly tickets and recommendation votes!)*
*(End of Chapter)*