Chapter 195: Cleaning Up the Remnants

Fuck.

Wang Xin couldn't suppress his shock; according to what Zhang Su had just said, wiping out Beitaizi Camp was barely enough—yet that explosion earlier had been terrifying, and he still felt a lingering dread.

"I'm the village chief of Beitaizi Camp, Zhao Guishui. Brother, the ones who harmed you are already dead from the blast; everyone left here is innocent. Don't kill more people, please don't let your men kill more!"

Zhao Guishui's agonized voice echoed through the sky.

"Innocent? More killings?"

Zhang Su's gaze turned cold. When conflict erupted, no one on either side remained innocent—and he'd heard voices contradicting Zhao Guishui.

Like: Old Zhao, shut up and fight; we're going down together; I want revenge for Big Brother…

Most infuriating: even now, they were still trying to sow discord—what did "don't let your men kill more" mean if not to stir up resentment against their leader?

"Attack!"

Zhang Su didn't respond to Zhao Guishui. He gave the direct order to attack—he wanted to see who dared disobey.

"No, no, brother, listen to me—"

When Zhang Su saw the group before him, he frowned.

Zhang Su raised his rifle, aiming at Zhao Guishui, and stepped forward.

Behind him stood fifteen elderly people, children, and women, their limbs bound. Most were yellow-skinned and emaciated, dressed in tattered clothes like refugees who'd fled hundreds of miles, their eyes dull with terror.

Seeing Zhao Guishui's cowardly demeanor, Zhang Su briefly wondered if he truly had nothing to do with the conflict—but the thought vanished instantly.

Zhang Su arrived at the smoke-filled courtyard gate and said: "Yu Wen, Master Jia, go to the collapsed courtyard and finish off any survivors—don't wait for them to turn into corpses and harm others! Xiao Shuai, Dachao, guard that courtyard—don't let anyone escape!"

"Come on, come on—Brother Su says there's someone, so there must be."

Zhao Guishui didn't give up, but his voice cut off abruptly—Zhang Su knew someone had been silenced; the courtyard inside was already preparing for battle.

Yu Wen and Jia Shiqin completed their task and returned to Zhang Su's side.

"Still others?"

Boom.

Zhang Su had seen the power of the Big Thunder—this weapon was absolutely a devastating tool, crucial for both offense and defense.

"What's your situation?"

At this moment, Zhao Guishui looked nothing like the village chief of Beitaizi Camp—his legs trembled, barely holding himself upright.

After searching him, he threw a dagger to the ground, then kicked him out of the courtyard.

"Young sir…"

"This… there's someone in the courtyard?"

Zhang Su pointed at the elderly, children, and women.

Perhaps frightened by the sound of the bolt being pulled back, Zhao Guishui crept out from behind a sheet of iron, hands raised above his head, face streaked with snot, tears, and terror, his crotch soaked.

Lu Yubo jumped, immediately raising his rifle to aim.

As they spoke, the group entered the courtyard, which had remained silent since the battle began to its end.

"No, no, no, don't shoot! I'm coming out!"

While Zhao Guishui gathered the villagers, Zhang Su's group counted the dead from the battle: twenty-eight eliminated, including the two half-grown boys who had tricked him back in Niuziquan Town.

Zhao Guishui saw Zhang Su walk into the courtyard with a cold face and immediately bowed and scraped.

"Zhao Guishui?"

Bang. Bang.

The courtyard flattened by the Big Thunder had no survivors—even those not killed instantly were crushed by concrete slabs. Yu Laoshi and Master Jia finished off any still breathing with a knife to the skull, and for those out of reach, a bullet. Their movements were swift, and they didn't forget to scavenge supplies.

"Good at hiding, fine. Since you're still alive, go to the neighboring courtyard and line up!"

"Yeah, yeah, it's me, it's me…"

Zhang Su led his men into the courtyard, shining his flashlight directly into the storage room and sneering: "Come out!"

"I didn't ask you."

The second clash involved not just firelocks but also homemade explosives—but they missed their targets and were pitifully weak compared to the Big Thunder. Projectiles hitting bodies barely scratched the skin.

"Young sir, these are all our village's laborers. From now on, they're yours."

"Mr. Zhang, there are still some materials for making bombs in the ruins, but Master Jia and I can't move the stones. Could everyone help us later?"

Less than five minutes later, Zhao Guishui's courtyard was riddled with automatic rifle fire—water jars, tiles, and window glass shattered everywhere, plastic windows and doors pockmarked with bullet holes, charcoal and corn scattered across the ground, several corpses lying in pools of blood—no survivors.

The third courtyard obviously had people inside—their voices trembled with fear and dread. Zhang Su couldn't tell what was going on and decided to deal with the current situation first.

Qi Xiao Shuai, who understood Zhang Su better than Guo Dachao, waved him over and led him away.

Tap-tap-tap-tap, tap-tap-tap…

Guo Dachao stared in surprise at the quiet, tightly closed courtyard.

Zhang Su glanced at Zhao Guishui.

"Alright, once we finish here, we'll go collect the stuff—those are treasures!"

"These…"

An elderly man in the crowd bowed to Zhang Su: "We… we're all old farmers from Beitaizi Camp."

"Why are you being restrained if you're working?"

Zhang Su pressed.

"Because… sigh, we eat little but work hard—they feared we'd run away, so…"

"We're slaves!"

A middle-aged woman spoke up, her fear replaced by fury as she glared at the hunched-over Zhao Guishui: "He treats us like beasts—only one meal of bran gruel a day, the rest is labor. He doesn't treat us as human!"

"Hey, don't say that!" Zhao Guishui saw Zhang Su's cold expression and quickly forced a smile: "Young sir, it's not like you think—"

Tap!

"Fuck you!"

Zhang Su pulled the bolt, raised his rifle, and fired two shots—killing Zhao Guishui, who stood beside him with a plastered grin.

Explanation?

Explanation, my ass.

"Ah…"

Wang Xin jumped—he was reminded of the day his convoy was robbed: same suddenness, same two shots. The former leader of Lianhe Village had died just like this.

The King of Hell truly was the King of Hell—he took lives without warning!

"As village chief, when enemies came, you didn't fight with your people—you hid. And you tried to sow discord? Fuck you!"

Zhang Su glanced at Zhao Guishui's corpse, then at the group before him: "Were you all forced?"

The fifteen slowly nodded, faces etched with indescribable sorrow. Some wiped tears continuously—they'd clearly suffered terribly.

"Come on, raise your heads and look at me."

In the apocalypse, anyone could act out any play to survive. Zhang Su wouldn't believe easily—but he didn't want to mistakenly kill slaves who'd been enslaved by Beitaizi Camp. That would be wrong.

The elderly, children, and women didn't know what Zhang Su planned, but they obeyed obediently—even if terrified, they trembled as they lifted their heads.

With his superior vision and years of survival experience, Zhang Su had developed sharp instincts for reading people—even without formal psychology training.

His gaze met each of the fifteen: the elderly's hollow resignation, the children's desperate hope, the women's shame and despair—all registered in his eyes. Yet among them, he spotted a few glances filled with hatred and malice.

Stockholm Syndrome?

Or Beitaizi Camp villagers hiding among the slaves, pretending to be victims?

Zhang Su didn't know—and he didn't care.

"You, you, and you—step forward!"

The elderly man and two women Zhang Su named flinched, shuffled forward hesitantly, faces twisted with fear—they likely knew why they'd been singled out.

"Dachao, this one's yours. Master Jia, this one's yours."

Zhang Su grabbed the two women and shoved them toward Guo Dachao and Jia Shiqin.

Guo Dachao looked embarrassed, waving his hands: "No, no, no, Brother Su, I'm already with Xiao Jie—"

Tap!

"Ah!"

Guo Dachao thought Zhang Su was giving him a warm bed companion—he hadn't even finished refusing when he saw Zhang Su turn and blow the skull of the remaining elderly man apart!

Blood sprayed, the body collapsed—dead without ever understanding how he'd been exposed.

"What the hell are you thinking? Get to work!"

Zhang Su turned to Guo Dachao and Jia Shiqin, both stunned.

"Spare… spare my life…"

"Don't kill me… please…"

The two women had thought they'd escaped death—only to realize hell's door had opened. They collapsed to their knees, begging desperately.

The other elderly, children, and women stood frozen, eyes wide. Some crouched down, refusing to open their eyes, terrified the next would be them.

"Brother Su, this, this…"

"I…"

Guo Dachao and Jia Shiqin were both bewildered, unable to grasp what was happening.

"Hurry up! Do it!"

Guo Dachao was still dazed when Qi Xiao Shuai prodded him from behind, frantically signaling him.

Jia Shiqin's situation was similar—Yu Wen even took his rifle off his shoulder and unlocked the safety…

Bind. Tap-tap.

The two weren't stupid; they were just stunned by the sudden turn of events. But when they saw Zhang Su's cold, resolute gaze, something within them clicked—they raised their rifles and pulled the triggers.

"Good."

Zhang Su nodded and turned again to the slaves of Beitaizi Camp, who remained silent as frozen insects.

"Do you know what happened to these three?"

Faced with Zhang Su's vague question, the twelve slaves mechanically shook their heads—they clearly had no idea.

Zhang Su didn't press further. Their lives had been shrouded in endless darkness; their hearts were dead ashes, too drained to notice anything else.

"The remnants have been cleaned up. Now you have three choices: First, each of you take one day's rations and leave the area of Beidong Town and Niuziquan Town. Second, let me introduce you to this…"

As he spoke, Zhang Su pulled Wang Xin Gui forward before them and said: "Wang Xin Gui, the leader of the United Villages of Beidong Town—more reliable than Zhao Guishui. You can all join the United Villages as laborers! Note: laborers, not slaves!"

"No!"

Wang Xin Gui jumped back, his face twisted in distress: "Big Brother Zhang, I… I don't want them!"

"These people can work, can farm—why wouldn't you take them? If you don't take them, you won't get any of the spoils!"

Zhang Su directly threatened Wang Xin Gui.

"Tsk…" Wang Xin Gui frowned in anguish: "What's the third option? There's got to be a third option—they might not want to join the United Villages."

"Third option: collectively hang yourselves at the United Villages!" Zhang Su replied with utter indifference.

"Pfft…"

Lu Yu Bo couldn't help laughing, then quickly apologized when he saw the mood: "Sorry, sneezed—I'm going outside for a cigarette…"

Wang Xin Gui rolled his eyes so hard they nearly vanished—this was pure nonsense.

"Choose!"

Zhang Su looked at the twelve.

Though presented as three choices, in truth there was only one. The old man who had spoken earlier took a deep breath, bowed low, and said: "Young sir, your compassionate heart has saved us from this sea of suffering—we are eternally grateful. We wish to join the United Villages."

"We wish to join the United Villages."

With that, all twelve knelt down and prostrated themselves before Zhang Su and his group.

For them, today was liberation.

(End of Chapter)