Chapter 130: Who Moves, Dies

"Nonsense!"

The villagers on the field were furious, they knew perfectly well what the Pang family was like—where could so many relatives suddenly come from? Pure bullshit.

"Thief, you're a traitor to your ancestors, a beast! Stealing for yourself isn't enough—you've even colluded with outsiders to steal from the village! Your grandfather's soul won't rest in peace!"

Someone in the crowd pointed at Pang Dakun and shouted insults.

Someone else immediately chimed in: "Pang Dakun, where did you bury your grandfather? I'm going to tell Grandpa Pang what a shameless beast you are!"

"I..."

As Pang Dakun opened his mouth, Zhang Su gripped his shoulder and said: "You've got hands and feet—don't waste them on empty words. Look at this street—we cleared it. If you've got the guts, clear the others yourselves. If you don't, go back where you came from!"

The villagers stared at the dismantled roadblocks, their expressions complicated—they knew these people weren't lying, but with their numbers, they couldn't let them walk off with several carts of grain.

"Out of respect for your hard work, we'll let you take some grain—three hundred jin, no more. Return the rest to us!"

The leader, Da Tie, hefted his pickaxe, speaking loudly as if stating an obvious truth.

"We didn't work hard at all, and we don't need your charity. Since we had the strength to clear this street, we'll take as much as we want. Use your own words: if you don't leave now, I'll make sure you all stay here."

Zhang Su realized he couldn't reason with these people—he'd lost patience.

If these villagers had come to help when they saw people clearing zombies from the village, they'd be friends. If they'd come to negotiate or trade supplies, they could've been talked to. Even if they'd just watched from afar, it would've been no harm, no foul. But this attitude? Nothing left to say.

Zhang Su had considered using the 【Mark of Loyalty】 to control Da Tie, the leader, and then recruit the rest—they'd make decent fighters.

But from his observations, the villagers only pretended to follow Da Tie—or rather, they'd elevated him as a symbolic figurehead. Each had their own agenda; they weren't united at all.

Controlling the leader of such a group would be meaningless—it was still just scattered sand!

The villagers thought Zhang Su was just bluffing, but everyone on his team—except the newcomers Zhang Ya and Pang Dakun—knew better: things had escalated. Zhang Su never made threats—he only carried them out.

Yu Qing was frantic; she hated conflict most of all, because any clash meant casualties.

She tugged at her father Yu Wen's sleeve and gave him a look.

Yu Wen knew exactly what his daughter wanted—he frowned and shook his head, clearly telling her to stay quiet.

He stepped forward a few paces and said: "Mr. Zhang, may I speak with them?"

Zhang Su looked at Yu Wen, saw his serious expression, and nodded: "Try."

Yu Wen stepped forward two more paces, greeted them politely, then spoke at length, appealing to emotion and reason.

But the villagers were unmoved—not a word sank in; instead, they cursed Yu Wen.

Zhang Su saw Yu Wen's frustrated, dusty face and patted his shoulder: "Thanks..."

"Sigh..."

Yu Wen sighed and returned to the group, giving Yu Qing a look that said, "See?"

"Sending an old man to beg? Are you all idiots?"

Da Tie slung his pickaxe over his shoulder and grinned: "You think one crossbow can scare us all? Same as before: not a single grain of grain from Shuipu Village leaves here. If you don't behave, don't blame us for being ruthless!"

"As you charge at us, guess how many arrows you can shoot? One? Two? We've seventeen men—even if two or three get hit, what does it matter? That junk can't even kill birds—can it kill people? When it comes to fighting, my pickaxe is a killer!"

Da Tie swung his pickaxe vigorously, looking mighty—his arm strength was undeniable.

Anyone hit by that weapon would be dead or maimed.

"Exactly. Hand over the goods and leave, or you and your whole bunch—men, women, old, young—will be done for. In this world, who's going to care if you kill a few people?"

Other villagers immediately joined in, shouting loudly, making sure Zhang Su's group heard every word.

"No one cares! Kill them all, dump them in the village—no one'll know!"

"Old Qiu, why make it complicated? No need to dump them—just let them rot here. No one gives a damn. Just do it!"

"Do it! They're stealing our grain—kill them!"

"Kill them!"

The crowd cheered, the seventeen villagers felt certain of victory, waving their weapons wildly, emotions running high.

"Ha..." Zhang Su grinned. "After the disaster, do you know who I hate most? Not the cowards who tremble at zombies, not the beggars on their knees. It's you—people too scared to kill zombies, but bold as hell against humans. Only good at fighting among yourselves, you dogs!"

"Tan Hua! The pickaxe!"

As Zhang Su raised his crossbow again, a sharp whistle cut through the air.

*Swoosh.

Before the villagers could react, Da Tie froze, his neck arching backward. Everyone stared in shock—he had an arrow buried in his forehead. His massive frame slowly toppled backward, eyes wide open, dead.

"He's dead! Charge! Kill them for Da Tie!"

Someone shouted, and a villager leaped over Da Tie's corpse, sprinting toward the fertilizer shop.

*Shhh—plop.

"Ahh!"

As the villager charged forward, another arrow struck—not the head, but the abdomen. He screamed in agony but didn't stop, clutching his belly and pressing ahead.

As Zhang Su had said, these people were vicious toward humans—but cowardly when facing zombies.

Tan Huajun reloaded quickly; by the time the villagers had charged twenty meters, he fired his second arrow!

*Shhh.

*Plop.

Another villager dropped, arrow through the skull. No misses—astonishing.

Even with two dead, the villagers didn't retreat. Emotions had ignited—they had no intention of turning back, roaring toward Zhang Su's group like beasts determined to tear them limb from limb.

On Zhang Su's side, everyone was ready for battle. No cowards in the group. The only one showing fear was Pei Lan, her arm in a sling, now standing on the fertilizer shop roof, gripping a red brick, waiting to "persuade" them with force.

Yu Qing, though compassionate and wanting to avoid death, wasn't about to surrender. On the contrary, to ease the burden on her father and Zhao De, her fighting spirit burned bright.

The unassuming Corgi, Hao Yun, had already slipped silently into the tall grass nearby. His eyes glinted with cold fury, teeth bared—rarely seen—every muscle tensed, ready to strike with lethal precision.

Zhang Su and his team were different from the villagers—they didn't just fight zombies fearlessly, they didn't fear humans either, especially in direct confrontation. Just do it!

But Zhang Su gave no one else a chance to act.

After firing his crossbow, he didn't reload like Tan Huajun. Instead, he swiftly slung the crossbow onto his back, hiked up his shirt, drew his black USP, and fired without hesitation at the closest charging villager.

*Bang!

The sharp crack echoed through the air, reverberating in hearts, shaking souls.

Everyone froze. The villagers instinctively slowed. Zhang Su's team was stunned—no one knew he'd already loaded his pistol.

*Bang, bang, bang-bang-bang...

Once the trigger was pulled, it didn't stop until the thirteen-round magazine was empty. Five villagers collapsed, disbelief etched on their faces.

The remaining villagers, hearing only the hollow click of an empty chamber, charged forward again—only to freeze in horror as Zhang Su pulled out another pistol. Identical to the first.

In peacetime, two villages fighting over water could turn violent—how much more so in the apocalypse, fighting over resources? This was no joke. From the villagers' aggressive stance, Zhang Su sensed deep, murderous intent. He had no doubt in his team's combat ability, and confidence he could win in close quarters—but casualties were inevitable. Maybe deaths.

That was not what he wanted.

"Who moves, dies."

Zhang Su didn't fire again. He spoke coldly. His voice wasn't loud—but in the silence, it shook everyone to their core.

From the start of the charge to now, just ten meters away, seventeen had become ten. Seven dead. Enough to snap the remaining ten out of their blood-fueled rage.

The remaining villagers stared at the black muzzles. They stopped. Their courage to advance was gone.

As the scene fell silent, the zombies' moans from the village drifted over—the gunfire had been too loud, like a beacon. Zombies a hundred meters away had heard and were drawn toward them.

(End of Chapter)