Let’s set the world ablaze.

After finishing his shooting practice, Dean hid the AR-15 assault rifle and ammunition in a concealed spot at home, while he placed the handgun—chambered and safety off—into his shoulder bag to carry at all times.

A simple flick of the safety and it would be ready to fire.

If he had to constantly worry about “civil forfeiture” and act timidly, what was the point of buying a gun in the first place?

Besides, with “Shadow” around, even if he was unlucky enough to be checked by the police, he had various ways to discreetly move the firearm without anyone noticing.

With his gun on him, Dean joined the Good Morning Band and headed to the nearby Morgan Chase Bank to open a personal account, then stopped by the copyright association to submit registration materials for the song “Amazing Day.”

After finishing these errands, the group had dinner together as night fell.

A cool evening breeze swept down the bustling avenue. Under the dim streetlights, Noah glanced teasingly at Dean and Rust.

“The two of you eat at least twice as much as Liam, Cathy, Caroline, and I combined.”

“Two half-orcs wearing human skins,” Cathy commented incisively.

“You don’t get it. We’re training for boxing,” Rust said, hunching his shoulders and tucking in his abdomen, raising both fists in a textbook boxing pose. “We’ve been beaten up and have beaten up killers, so of course we eat more than these scrawny rockers!”

Smack—

Rust’s hand shot out like lightning, delivering a clean left jab in the air.

“Rust, you hurt my face! You’ve ruined the future Marlon Brando!” Noah shrieked, pounding Rust’s chest in mock outrage.

The group burst into laughter.

Dean shook his head. Rust had been rather introverted, but with the other four’s deliberate efforts to bring him in, he had gotten swept up in their camaraderie within days and blended in with his new “friends.”

“Ladies and gentlemen, you’ve run me ragged today, but everything’s settled at last. I’d better head home,” Robert said, his round, weary face breaking into a satisfied smile. With an elated swing of his briefcase, he spun in place as if dancing, then bowed extravagantly to the well-dressed group of young people.

“If I don’t get back soon, little Tana will be in tears not seeing her dad. Tomorrow’s the holiday, so you all get a good rest. The day after, we’ll reconvene at the base for rehearsals together.”

Robert climbed into the Chevy parked by the curb and waved farewell.

“Dean, Rust, from now on, we’re all comrades!” Liam watched their manager leave, slinging his left arm around Dean’s shoulders and his right around Rust’s, his face brimming with excitement.

“This will be remembered as a historic moment…” Drummer Noah quickly waved his hands, making percussion sounds with his mouth, miming an air drum solo. “The legendary journey of ‘Good Morning, Las Vegas’ begins with ‘Amazing Day’!”

Caroline and Cathy laughed merrily.

“Dean, as the original composer, we’ll be counting on you for the arrangement. Let’s try to wrap it up within a month.”

“I can just manage songwriting, but I know nothing about arranging. I can only offer you some advice. By the way, I’m curious—did you guys pay the buyout fee for the song yourselves, or did Robert cover it?” Dean paused, subtly drawing his right hand back to rest against his ribcage.

On his right, Caroline—dressed in a breezy tank top—pressed her pale arm against his, either intentionally or not, and a few strands of golden hair from her ponytail brushed his cheek from time to time.

“If you’re counting on that fat Scrooge to pay for us, you’ll be waiting until the end of the world,” Liam exclaimed. “We’re lucky he doesn’t charge us for his time.”

“So the four of you split five thousand dollars?”

“Dean, you probably don’t know this,” Rust said, slinging an arm around Noah’s shoulders to explain. “Their parents are pretty open-minded and willing to support their dreams of pursuing music.”

Rust paused, glancing at the others to gauge their reactions. “How much have you guys spent on the band, all told? Fifty grand?”

“About that,” Noah replied, his nose prickling with emotion at the bitter memories, his mohawk quivering as he craned his neck. “It’s an investment. Once I’m famous and a rock superstar, I’ll buy them a villa on the summit of Mount Monaco with a year’s income, let them retire in style and travel the world.”

“But now, with Dean’s masterpiece, we’re sure to win the singing competition this summer. See? The Walk of Fame is calling us!”

Everyone nodded enthusiastically. The shop window’s light reflected the faces of four young people, their features vibrant with passion for their dreams and longing for the future.

Dean couldn’t help but recall his own high school days in his previous life.

Endless exams and assignments… after much struggle, he finally got into a decent university.

Ironically, though, the relentless academic pressure had left him numb, with no real hobbies or interests—he had no idea what major to choose.

In the end, on a teacher’s advice, he picked something easy to find a job with.

Barring those elite families with the same kind of pressure, American teenagers simply had it better—they were free to pursue their interests before college.

Suppressing his scattered thoughts, Dean asked, “If I’m not mistaken, you’re all in eleventh grade. Now that you’ve set your hearts on the band, will you still go to college afterward?”

“Dean, not everyone is a genius like you—acing every subject,” Caroline said, her expression complicated. “The four of us can barely do basic math. Our future lies in music. If we can make a name for ourselves, sell a ton of albums, win a few prestigious awards, getting into Curtis, Berklee, or Thornton isn’t out of the question.”

...

“Robert’s said it himself: there are countless boys and girls chasing dreams of stardom. Most get scammed, and only a handful ever make it,” Dean said, his gaze slowly sweeping over the four. “You’re all making a high-stakes bet.”

“You sound just like a boring teacher. But remember: this is Las Vegas, the city of endless casinos—everyone loves to gamble!” Liam laughed. “Robert’s no different. He has a normal job and a happy family, but he’s betting on the band and our future. If we make it, his career will flourish too.”

“These past years, he’s never charged us anything—he’s actually lost time and money on us,” Noah added.

“If I remember right, he’s a lawyer,” Dean said, skeptical. Could an American “vampire” really be so generous and selfless?

“Lawyers aren’t exactly known for their charity.”

“Hey, don’t overthink it! You, Rust, and Britney are on this boat now—so write us more great songs!” Cathy suddenly darted aside, grabbed a lamppost, swung herself up like Tarzan, and spun around.

“Let’s rock!”

“Let’s rock!”

Caroline let out a piercing shriek, her voice cracking with excitement, then suddenly grabbed both of Dean’s hands.

She bent down, swaying her hips gracefully, golden hair brushing her delicate, radiant cheeks. Retreating with a playful smile and a glint in her blue eyes, she bit her dewy lips.

A flush spread across her dainty face, radiating a charm far beyond her years.

From this angle, Dean had a perfect view down the black tank top—an inviting sight.

Awooo!

Liam howled like a wolf, waggling his eyebrows and wiggling his shoulders in front of Britney, beckoning with both hands.

Damn it!

Refusing to be outdone, Rust elbowed Liam aside, stepping in front of the blushing Britney and clumsily swaying her by both hands.

Noah yelped, pulling silly moves beside Rust and joining the dance.

Bathed in moonlight and streetlamps, a group of young people let loose on the street, dancing wildly.

A passing fat man in a straw hat couldn’t help but whistle, shaking his big behind in good-natured tribute as he walked by.

“You guys… aren’t high, are you?” For the first time, Dean felt things were spiraling out of his control, yet he couldn’t help but stretch out his right arm—Caroline, giggling, spun under his arm once, then twice.

Her small hand brushed lightly over his abs.

“I’ve heard most bands go wild. I don’t care about others, but as for my own partners—let me say this first: if anyone in the band touches ‘herb,’ our collaboration is over. I can’t stand junkies.”

“Come on, man,” Noah said. “Don’t be such a killjoy.”

“I’m not joking!”

“All right, Officer, we won’t touch weed. Robert forbids it anyway.”

Caroline pressed her back against his, twisting sinuously like a snake, radiating heat and elasticity.

“That stuff can send you to heaven, and bring inspiration, but it’ll drag you to hell too,” Cathy said.

“The joy is fleeting, but the pain lasts,” Liam shouted, locking Rust in a headlock and planting a kiss on his cheek, making Rust gag in disgust.

“Let’s go, everyone—come back to the warehouse with us tonight,” Noah called, dancing to the Ford, opening the door. “Let’s party all night, hit the supermarket in the morning, then drive out to Lake Mead for the holiday barbecue!”

“No party-poopers allowed!” Caroline huffed proudly, dragging Dean into the back seat.

Dean settled into the leather couch, feeling the warmth of her body beside him, watching the city buildings flash by the window in quick retreat.

Well, balance is key. Practice shooting by day, relax at night.

Yes.

Dean glanced at Caroline’s sweet face, thinking.

But before sleep, he still had to stick to his nightly fighting practice and extreme tempering routine.