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墨書 Inktalez
The iron railings on both sides were covered in rust, with several twisted wires strung between them. A large red lantern, its frame reduced to a skeletal structure, hung from the wires, its paper long since weathered and torn to shreds. The lantern swayed lightly in the breeze, casting elongated shadows on the blue brick ground below.
From atop the high wall, the view was excellent. Through the battlements, one could see the ravaged inner city. The daylight was just right, and the lifeless skyscrapers appeared like a cold-toned painting unfurling before everyone, telling tales of blood and tears belonging to millions. Leading a group of seven or eight militia members, Cold Man crouched low, clutching a short dagger in his mouth as they pressed against the wall, inching closer to the ornate gatehouse at the center of the city wall.
The city wall was unexpectedly quiet—no guards, no sentinels. The ground was littered with gravel, exuding an air of desolation and solitude.
Cold Man hesitated; this was supposed to be their base of operations. In the past, regardless of heat or cold, there would always be someone keeping watch here. Why was it deserted now? After a moment's thought, he dismissed his worries. There had to be people around; otherwise, there wouldn't be a corpse lying at the foot of the wall. Perhaps it was just that the main force was absent, making it seem a bit empty.
Steeling himself, Cold Man approached the gatehouse and waved back at his militia comrades. They exchanged glances and tightened their grips on their daggers before circling around. With a loud crash, they kicked open the door. A cloud of dust billowed out from within the dim city wall, accompanied by a foul stench.
Militia A peered inside with surprise, covering his nose as he leaned halfway through the doorway. He scanned the area and exclaimed, "No one here!"
"Ah!" Cold Man was taken aback and hurried inside.
Inside the dim city wall, a heavy moldy smell lingered. Light filtered through gaps in the window bars, illuminating swirling dust motes that danced in the beams of light mixed with the stench of decay that permeated everywhere.
Cold Man stood frozen; this place looked completely different from when he had left. The mountains of food and clothing were gone; tables and chairs had vanished as well. The floorboards were littered with crumpled scraps of paper, while heaps of garbage swarmed with flies piled up in corners. The militia members filed in one after another and climbed up to the second floor; it was much the same there—eerily empty except for rotting food that made one gag and various indistinguishable items.
"Brother Five," Cold Man thought his mind was failing him. Just half an hour ago, there had been fierce-looking people here—where had they all gone?
"The upstairs is empty too; there's nothing at all," several militia members rushed down the stairs in confusion. "It seems like it's been abandoned for a long time."
"That can't be right; we just saw people earlier! Could it be ghosts?" Cold Man couldn't make sense of it all. If there were no people, then who had seen that old face? And who had thrown that militia member off the wall to his death?
One particularly timid militia member shivered in fear and said, "Could it be haunted?"
"Haunted my ass!" Cold Man shouted angrily, pointing at him. "Go look! Chase them along that side of the wall; I refuse to believe this!"
The militia members exchanged glances but did not follow his orders.
"What do you mean by that?" Cold Man furrowed his brow as he surveyed them with disdainful laughter.
"Hou Xiong," said one militia member who had argued with Cold Man earlier at the wall. He scratched his head and added, "We brought plenty of food and drink from the temple; it should last us for a while. We can figure things out ourselves from now on. Your old team doesn't seem to get along with you very well; there's no need for us to stick our necks out for them. I think this city wall is fine—if they don't stay here, we will be safe from zombies."
"Exactly."
"Yeah, why do we have to find them?"
The Militia members began to voice their opinions, each one reluctant to go after them.
Cold Man was momentarily at a loss for words. The arguments presented by the others were reasonable, and he couldn't come up with a counterargument. He certainly couldn't tell them, "I'm afraid you won't listen to me, so I need to find my old boss to manage you."
Seeing that Cold Man had fallen silent, the Militia grew bolder and urged, "We broke away from them to live our own lives, right? Things are good like this; there are just enough of us, and we don't have to worry about anyone else's opinions."
Cold Man raised an eyebrow, catching the underlying meaning in the Militia's words. His expression remained unchanged, but inside he was cursing up a storm: When we were at the temple, didn't they all say they would follow my lead? Didn't they say they were with me? Now that we're safe and settled, they don't want to consider anyone else's opinions anymore.
Cold Man was furious and secretly contemplated whether he should learn from Song Jiu and set an example by punishing someone. Just as that thought crossed his mind, he quickly dismissed it—no need to learn from him; who does he think he is?
The Militia members were sharp and perceptive; they could see through his thoughts. They exchanged glances and said, "Don't worry. A man’s word is his bond. Whatever we decide in the temple goes. In the future, when it comes to fighting or gathering supplies, we'll all listen to you."
Feeling somewhat reassured, Cold Man adopted a thoughtful demeanor and said seriously, "Alright then, I respect your opinions. We won't look for them; we'll settle down here."
The faces of the Militia relaxed as they smiled contentedly. The City Wall was indeed dirty but had no other issues; it was spacious enough and safer than the Riverside Camp. If one had to nitpick, it was inconvenient for farming. The Militia members were all seasoned drifters; unlike at the beginning of the disaster, they could always find good stuff in supermarkets or warehouses. Now, everything depended on themselves—clothing and bedding were manageable, but food was truly scarce.
"That being said, even if we’re not looking for them, we still need someone on watch for safety," Cold Man thought for a moment and decided that settling down wasn't a bad idea after all. He instructed, "You all saw what happened this morning; there's no telling if someone might come back unexpectedly. Everyone stay alert."
"Sure thing," the arguing Militia nodded in agreement.
"What do they call you?" Cold Man glanced at one of them and thought this guy seemed like a strong competitor. He hadn't spoken much since leaving the camp and had assumed he was timid; he didn't expect him to be the first one to challenge him.
"Just call me Big Rush," the Militia replied with a grin as he adjusted his greasy middle part hairstyle. Suddenly he flashed a lewd smile and added, "Let's get those three girls up here."
"I almost forgot about that," Cold Man rolled his eyes internally. This guy really had no shame; they hadn't even settled in yet and he was already thinking about the girls. Though he cursed him in his mind, he couldn't show it on his face. Cold Man figured it wouldn't do to hand over Pockmarked Girl to him; if he behaved well, maybe he could consider letting Song Jiu's partner join in too—after all, he was determined to protect Effie, and no one else could lay a finger on her.
"Hey, where's that other person?" Cold Man quickly resolved the distribution plan but noticed someone was missing.
The group of Militia looked at each other with puzzled expressions: "They were just here."
As they were speaking, there seemed to be some commotion outside the City Wall. Cold Man's expression changed, and he quickly grabbed his dagger and rushed out the door, followed hurriedly by the Militia.
"Damn it!"
Big Rush skidded to a halt beside the Battlements, staring blankly at the Sea of Corpses below, his legs trembling. The others were no better off; they had just been discussing how to get by in life and hadn’t even had a moment to sit down before the Zombies were back.
"Brother X, what do we do?" Big Rush, once a strong competitor, now felt like a mere lackey, swallowing hard and hoping Cold Man would have a plan.
"Stop panicking!" Cold Man pushed him away in disgust and cursed, "The Zombies can't climb up. What's there to be afraid of?" But before he could finish his sentence, his face turned pale. Damn it, he was high up, but Effie was still down there! Realizing this, Cold Man's gaze shifted again as he gritted his teeth and ran toward the wall.
The others exchanged confused glances but decided to follow him. Although he seemed a bit unreliable, he also appeared quite bold; having him charge ahead would certainly draw attention.
Cold Man sprinted to the wall in just a few strides and peered over the Battlements. Sure enough, that Leash Militia was climbing down with his backside sticking out, having descended only two or three meters while turning back to say something below. Meanwhile, the three girls left at the bottom were still huddled together back-to-back, somehow having moved from the wall to the corner in a strange position, not knowing what they were doing.
The Horde had already surged onto the Arch Bridge. Opening the city gates to rescue them would clearly be a death wish. The spot where the three girls were located was a patch of grass between the wall and the Moat. To enter from the Arch Bridge, one would need to climb over a low Iron Fence that wouldn't stop any Zombies. Plus, it was a blind spot; they couldn't see what was happening on the other side of the Arch Bridge railing. The Leash Militia hadn’t noticed Cold Man’s urgent presence above and continued climbing while chatting away.
"Hurry up! The Zombies are coming!" Cold Man felt both anxious and relieved—anxious because the Zombies were close and relieved because this Militia was actually smart enough to go down without needing his orders.
However, startled by Cold Man's sudden shout, the Leash Militia lost his footing on the green bricks and slipped downwards.
Cold Man cursed under his breath at this useless fool as he vaulted over the Parapet and shouted back at Big Rush, "Come down and help!"
Big Rush hesitated; while he found the girls appealing, his life was more important. What if he went down and couldn’t climb back up? Just as he hesitated, he caught sight of a flash of resentment in Cold Man's eyes. With gritted teeth, he thought that if he was going to die, then so be it; he jumped over the Parapet and carefully climbed down along the brick edge.
Guli was busy cutting ropes when she got startled by the falling Militia. The dagger slipped from her hand just as she saw Zombies flooding over the Arch Bridge. With Cold Man chasing after him from above, she grew increasingly frantic as she struggled to hold onto her dagger.
Dream Fan cheered her on from beside her but suddenly noticed that the Militia seemed to convulse slightly. She quickly reached out her foot to poke him. "Hey! Are you okay?"
The Leash Militia struggled to lift his face, blood covering his mouth and nose; it was clear he didn’t have long left.
Dream Fan felt a pang of guilt for him as she realized he might have injured himself badly in his fall. Unfortunately, with ropes in her mouth, she couldn’t say anything comforting or send him off properly. Just when his breath seemed to fade away completely, a spark of life flickered in his eyes upon seeing Dream Fan's sorrowful expression. It gave him just enough strength to struggle forward a few steps and grasp the fallen dagger with all his might, using it to cut through the ropes binding all three girls.
When tying them up earlier, Cold Man had been careful not to tie them individually but instead used one long rope around them. Once that was cut, they were left with only their hand and foot bindings—at least they wouldn’t be stuck back-to-back anymore. Guli flipped over onto her front and took hold of the dagger to free Effie's hands. Effie then proceeded to cut through both of their bindings until they finally managed to escape just before Cold Man and Big Rush arrived below.
"Where are you running to?" Guli yanked the rope from her mouth, spitting out a few times. The rope had kept her lips sealed, causing saliva to drip down and dampen her front, making her feel quite uncomfortable.
"We can't get out! What should we do, Dream Fan?" Effie panicked. Cold Man was only three to five meters above the ground, and the area outside the Iron Gate of the Arch Bridge was crowded with Zombies, all desperately reaching in. It wouldn't be long before they were overwhelmed. Besides climbing the wall, it seemed there was no other way out.
"Dream Fan," Effie turned her head and saw that Dream Fan wasn't trying to escape at all. Instead, she was crouched beside Militia, holding his already weakened rough hand.
Militia was continuously spitting out clots of blood, his face—a face that would be lost in a sea of people—was filled with reluctance and unwillingness. In his pupils reflected Dream Fan's delicate features; even though he knew this beautiful girl was using him, there wasn't a trace of resentment in his eyes.
"Thank you," Dream Fan whispered softly, leaning down to place a gentle kiss on his cheek. She asked quietly, "What is your name?"
"Li Li," Militia coughed, a sound like a torn windbag escaping his throat, blood spilling from his mouth and nose, staining the green grass beneath him.
"Old Li, got it. My name is Dream Fan," she smiled at him and squeezed his rough hand.
A hint of a smile broke through Militia's blood-stained face covered in grass clippings, and in that moment, their eyes locked in a still frame.
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