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墨書 Inktalez
The girl was a small flower blooming in the winter, a symbol of the softness deep within many hearts. It was a pure land that could accommodate a warm smile. During those difficult days, everyone carefully nurtured this budding flower, regardless of the harsh nights or scorching summers. Wherever flowers bloomed, the sun always shone brightly.
Now, this little flower had been broken.
Her body still retained warmth, but her rosy lips had lost their color; her sparkling eyes seemed to still glimmer, yet the last scene she saw was one of utter darkness.
Just moments ago, she had expressed her longing to go home to Jiao Ziqian, but now she would never return.
In stark contrast to Jiao Ziqian's overwhelming grief and self-blame, Song Jiu was engulfed in a molten rage, intent on burning everything in her path with her resentment.
She was only fifteen; what kind of person could bear to inflict such harm on a child?
They had abandoned their camp and pursued her here, successfully rescuing the little girl with great joy and anticipation for a new life. Yet, before dawn broke, she fell into eternal darkness. How could Song Jiu accept this?
After three years of wandering and hardship, if it were death by zombies or natural disasters, Song Jiu might have managed to accept it with equanimity. But this was their camp—her territory—right under her nose.
After the fury subsided, only calm remained. Song Jiu had no time for sorrow; regardless of the intentions of those who harmed the girl, they must pay the price.
Liu Yan silently followed behind him, blood crusted on his face. A gentle touch caused skin to peel away as he touched his nose; thankfully, it was not broken. The bespectacled youth looked at the frail figure ahead and felt a mix of emotions. He was relieved that Song Jiu hadn't been holding a knife at that moment; otherwise, he would have suffered far worse than just a punch. Liu Yan felt frustrated; he knew there was no way to resolve this peacefully. His idealistic notions had been harshly slapped by reality.
Just moments ago, he had been engaged in a conversation with Song Jiu about matters of life and death. Liu Yan had openly admitted his identity as a zombie and hoped that Song Jiu could remove his colored glasses and treat zombies and survivors equally so they could coexist side by side. Upon hearing Liu Yan's intentions, Song Jiu was taken aback; he had always held deep reservations about zombies and never expected the other party to soften first.
Song Jiu believed that this scholarly-looking man wouldn't speak without reason. Following the principle of asking when in doubt, he laid out all his questions, hoping Liu Yan could objectively explain what the zombie group truly was. Liu Yan's purpose aligned perfectly with this; for two groups—or different tribes—to live together, mutual understanding was essential. Initially worried that Song Jiu might not want to hear more from him, Liu Yan was pleased when he proactively asked questions and spoke candidly.
With sincere intent, Liu Yan first pointed out a common misconception: "Zombie" is a label created by survivors; it is not an accurate representation of reality. Indeed, while zombies currently exhibit physiological traits that deviate from normal humans, they are not monsters that everyone should despise. Zombies are living people who have been infected by a virus and have died only to come back to life; they have skipped death and undergone some form of evolution.
Song Jiu listened intently but found himself confused and unable to grasp what Liu Yan was trying to convey.
Liu Yan spoke earnestly, explaining that some things couldn't be fully disclosed at once but emphasized that zombies were still human beings who did not choose to become zombies—it was beyond their control. He assured Song Jiu that the zombies living in the camp posed no threat to anyone; even if they were separated and integrated into Song Jiu's faction, it would be fine. They were more than capable of handling rough tasks like fighting and wielding weapons effectively; they would undoubtedly assist Song Jiu and contribute positively to the entire camp instead of causing panic as they did now.
Song Jiu regarded this with endless skepticism. He could see Liu Yan's sincerity, but he couldn't fully trust his words alone. After some discussion, Liu Yan decided to take action, insisting that all the Zombies be brought before Song Jiu tonight so he could see and hear for himself.
Of course, Song Jiu was more than willing. However, with a guide in place, he also harbored some doubts and directly asked Liu Yan why he was so eager to help him.
Liu Yan's answer was thought-provoking. He said, "We don't want to become like this; we want a peaceful life too."
Sometimes, men don't need many promises or guarantees. Song Jiu couldn't quite explain why Liu Yan felt different from others. They had known each other for only 24 hours, yet his words inspired trust. This wasn't necessarily a good thing; Song Jiu silently reminded himself and then posed one last question: "I believe you, but do the other Zombies share your thoughts?"
"I am certain," Liu Yan replied firmly.
Just then, several gunshots shattered the night.
When Liu Yan saw the girl lying in a pool of blood, his heart sank. Just after he had secured a military order from Song Jiu, someone had made a grave mistake. Liu Yan prided himself on being open-minded, but at that moment, he couldn't help but pray that the murderer was not a Zombie—please, not a Zombie.
Chef Jia was swift and decisive in her actions. Although she felt a pang of fear facing the furious Song Jiu, she remained the beautiful ice queen in front of the Militia. In less than ten minutes, everyone in the camp—regardless of age or gender—had gathered in the square except for Song Jiu's direct subordinates. The soldiers were somewhat numb; usually, this square was just a place for walking and relaxing, but today marked their third assembly.
"Everyone is here," Chef Jia said with a somewhat dejected expression, unsure if it was due to the innocent girl or the impending misfortune for the Militia.
"Is everyone accounted for?" Song Jiu asked.
"All present," Chef Jia replied as she pulled out a list of names from her pocket and handed it over.
"What about A Hai?" Song Jiu nodded and inquired of the Young Man beside him.
Not only was there the girl's corpse under the doorway, but A Hai was also lying there unconscious. By the time they found him, he hadn't yet breathed his last and had already been taken away for treatment.
The temporary stand-in Young Man's eyes were slightly red as he responded, "He hasn't woken up yet; it was brutal—the skull is fractured."
Song Jiu took a deep breath, controlling his breath as he slowly exhaled and whispered a few words.
The group of young men looked serious; those with guns drew their weapons, while those without grabbed knives. Suddenly, more than twenty of them spread out, surrounding the hundred or so members of the Militia.
This aggressive stance ignited the confused nerves of the Militia. A few sleepy individuals were stunned, and everyone exchanged glances, not understanding what was about to unfold.
As the crowd parted, Luo Yu, Xin Mengfan, and Jiao Ziqian stood beside Song Jiu with bloodshot eyes. Xiaofei and the others instinctively wanted to avoid these bloodthirsty individuals, but aside from this group was the Militia. Moving recklessly now seemed inappropriate, so they could only huddle nervously beside Chef Jia, silently enduring the brewing storm.
Two young men entered the scene carrying a sheet. In front of everyone, they unveiled it to reveal a pale face beneath.
The crowd that had just settled down erupted into chaos again, faces filled with terror as they fell deeper into confusion.
Song Jiu glanced at Liu Yan, who was frowning deeply, then stepped into the center of the gathering. He coldly scanned the crowd one by one and slowly spoke, “I guess those who dare to harm a little girl only in the dark lack the courage to step forward, right?”
A gasp echoed through the crowd as people looked at each other in fear and confusion. Most of them had only come out of the warehouse after hearing gunshots; they initially thought there was another zombie alert. Now they finally understood that a murder had occurred shortly after nightfall.
“I don’t understand,” Song Jiu said as he stepped forward deliberately. “I want to know why she had to die.”
Faced with Song Jiu's vague questioning, the crowd could only respond with silence.
“I’ve given you one last chance to speak, and you didn’t cherish it.” Song Jiu stopped walking, smiled, and locked his gaze on a woman’s face.
Song Jiu narrowed his eyes; this woman was not unfamiliar. During dinner, when Chef Jia confirmed the existence of zombies, she and Liu Yan both displayed extreme shock. Afterwards, Liu Yan had approached him while this woman slipped from his memory.
The woman’s long hair was somewhat disheveled. She met Song Jiu’s gaze for a few seconds before awkwardly looking away.
Song Jiu turned to look at Liu Yan, who parted her lips slightly before letting out a sigh and weakly nodding her head.
Jiao Ziqian ground his teeth, cursing as he pushed through the crowd and yanked the woman out.
For a brief moment, chaos erupted among the people, but the Direct Descendant Young Man and Shotgun quickly raised their weapons, suppressing the Militia's anger.
The woman struggled and shouted, punching and kicking at Jiao Ziqian. A man rushed out after her, swinging his fists at Jiao Ziqian, demanding he let go of his wife.
Hundreds of eyes watched the scene unfold, observing Song Jiu's cold indifference, hearts racing with anxiety.
Luo Yu stepped forward, pressing a knife against the man's throat. With a swift motion, she slapped the woman, causing her to stagger, while simultaneously restraining Jiao Ziqian's arm that was poised to strike. She understood that this was not a problem that could be solved with a single blow; there was no need for Jiao Ziqian to execute her.
"You... you bandits!" The man was frantic, wanting to help his wife but feeling the cold steel against his skin. He loved her but feared for his life; he couldn't overpower them and could only shout in anger.
Jiao Ziqian attempted to twist the woman's arms behind her back but found it impossible. She was surprisingly strong and managed to break free from his grip, lunging at him with both hands aimed at his eyes.
A rush of wind accompanied gasps from the crowd as the woman screamed in agony, clutching her blood-soaked right arm as she fell to the ground. A slender arm spun in the air before dropping to the floor.
Song Jiu flicked the blood off his blade and stepped on the writhing woman, pulling out a cluster of yellowed hair from his pocket.
Jiao Ziqian raised a torch; under its flickering light, the same hair color was unmistakable.
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