American Adventure: My Uncle is Don Quixote

In a small building beside the main resort complex, inside Prophet Warren’s private lounge.

"Father," the front desk manager said, "this is today’s check-in list."

"Are there any women of pure bloodline?" Warren asked. "We’ve been birthing more and more demons in recent years."

"Several of them are women," the front desk manager said. "One of them is named Sarah. Although she’s seven months pregnant, her own profile is outstanding. She’s an excellent candidate—"

"Whoa! I’m afraid I’ll have to interrupt your little discussion about another man’s wife!"

An abrupt voice, thick with sarcasm, rang out from the shadows of the room.

Before Warren and the front desk manager’s horrified eyes, a tall, dark figure materialized out of thin air.

"Fuck!" the front desk manager blurted out. "Who are you?"

Li Wei calmly leaned against the door. Right in front of them, he slowly reached out and turned the brass deadbolt twice. With a CLICK, the room was locked tight.

"You... what are you?" the front desk manager screamed. "Security! Where’s security! How did you get in?"

"You mean those buddies of yours?" Li Wei tilted his head, spreading his hands. "Sorry, pal. They looked overworked, so I let them take a little nap. Oh, but I might have been a bit rough. Still, no one docked me any points, so I’m guessing they weren’t innocent, huh?"

He was afraid that if he stopped talking, he would immediately snap their necks. And for Warren and the manager, that would be getting off far too easily.

"As for how I got in—and you call yourself a Prophet," Li Wei said, pointing to himself and then out the window. "Didn’t Christ text you ahead of time to tell you I was coming? That’s pretty pathetic, man."

"Who exactly are you?" Warren frowned, but his hand began to secretly inch toward the nightstand drawer.

"Who am I? Good question," Li Wei said. "You can think of me as an unofficial enforcement agent from the United States of America Food and Drug Administration. Or your friendly neighborhood superhero—wait, there are no neighbors out here in the middle of nowhere."

Li Wei spread his hands and walked toward them, one step at a time.

"Stay back!"

Despite his 70 years, Warren Burst with an astonishing and unfitting strength. He snatched a silenced pistol from the nightstand drawer, aimed the dark muzzle straight at Li Wei’s head, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.

PFFT!

The silencer let out a muffled pop.

However, the expected scene of his brains splattering everywhere didn’t happen. Li Wei’s head just tilted slightly, revealing the ruined half of his mask.

"Hey! Watch it," Li Wei said, taking off his mask with a look of annoyance. "You could’ve dislocated my neck!"

"You’re Li Wei!" The front desk manager recognized his face, his lips trembling. "What kind of monster are you? How are you unharmed? Are you the devil?"

"Yeah, yeah, yeah," Li Wei said, yawning as he walked toward them. "Go on, scream louder. No one in here can hear you shouting and screaming anyway—just like all the others who screamed in this room."

’I already checked. This building is practically embedded in solid rock. You could say no sound gets out at all.’

Li Wei leaned down, his face almost touching Warren’s. "Relax. I promise this is going to hurt."

With a casual twist, he snapped Warren’s hand.

The moment Li Wei let go, Warren collapsed to the floor, rolling and wailing in agony.

"Hurts, doesn’t it? Think about what you’ve done," Li Wei said, looking at the agonized Warren and the manager cowering in the corner. "And we’re just getting started."

"Oh, right," he said, clapping his hands. "I just remembered. Don’t you have a special welcome drink here?"

He pulled two full syringes from his pocket. "That son of yours went crazy for ages on just one-tenth of a dose. Since you’re the Prophet, ten times that amount shouldn’t be too much to ask, right?"

He turned to the front desk manager, who was in cahoots with Warren. "And you, as the manager, it wouldn’t be right if you didn’t sample the merchandise, would it?"

"Wait, son," Warren struggled, still trying to negotiate with Li Wei. "Let’s talk. You want money? Women? Or—"

Li Wei wasn’t listening to his bullshit. He moved like a phantom, his hands clamping around the backs of their necks like iron pincers. The powerful grip compressed their carotid sinuses, causing both men to black out instantly as their bodies went rigid.

Li Wei uncapped the needles and, without hesitation, plunged the two full syringes of pale green extract into their veins, driving the plungers home with his thumbs.

A ten-fold dose of high-purity datura hallucinogen surged through their bloodstreams, straight to their brains.

Li Wei released his grip. The two men crumpled to the floor like heaps of mud, clutching their necks and gasping for air.

"10, 9, 8..."

Li Wei stood aside, watching calmly. He didn’t even make it to 5.

Warren’s murky old eyes suddenly bulged. In an instant, his pupils lost focus and dilated to their absolute limit.

In his eyes, the dim, luxurious room began to twist and dissolve. Deformed, withered little hands reached out from the expensive carpet. Viscous green venom started seeping from the walls. The air filled with the shrill wails of the infants he’d thrown into the incinerator and the countless brethren he’d persecuted.

"Get away! Demons! You freaks! Don’t touch me!" Warren shrieked, flailing his arms madly as he scrambled backward.

Along with the hallucinations, his sensory perception was amplified countless times over.