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墨書 Inktalez
The response speed of the Security Agency was faster than expected. Before the Mixed Unit could return to the large compound, the reinforcements arriving to support the guards ran into them. Ming Junwei blended in with the guard team, keeping his head down to avoid suspicion. In fact, the Mixed Unit was too preoccupied with the fleeing individuals around them to notice; each one wore a look of confusion, rushing to report the danger to the incoming support team.
The leader of the support team was the same guy who had escorted Ming Junwei and his companion into the city earlier that day. He appeared much calmer than the Mixed Unit. Upon hearing about zombies appearing in the city, his expression only shifted slightly. However, when his gaze swept over the Rebel Army, his face froze.
"You... they..." The Guard Captain was dumbfounded. The surveillance room had reported that all labor reserves in the compound had fled, so how were they now mingling with their own guards?
Ming Junwei sensed trouble and quickly searched for the young man in the crowd. The young man stood on the outskirts of the group, seemingly looking for him as well. Their eyes met just at that moment. Ming Junwei made a subtle gesture, signaling him, but the young man looked puzzled and gestured back, asking Ming Junwei what they should do.
Ming Junwei glanced at the support team; there were about twenty or thirty people, roughly equal in number to their own group. Since they were close to the main road, if chaos was going to ensue, it might as well be complete. Resolutely, he drew a line across his neck with his hand. The young man understood immediately and quietly slipped back into the Rebel Army crowd, conveying Ming Junwei's intentions in hushed tones.
The guards within the Mixed Unit felt their faces flush with embarrassment; during the chaotic battle earlier, they had panicked and lost track of how many zombies were actually present while focusing solely on escaping. Now, having heard something alarming, a nearby man raised his gun and fired, sparks flying as chains fell away. Two men pushed open the large door from either side, and Ming Junwei led his ragtag group forward. Over twenty disheveled individuals surged ahead with fiery determination, charging straight into Flowering World.
As he gazed at the flickering neon lights before him, Ming Junwei couldn't help but feel a wave of emotions wash over him. Three years ago at Underground Testing Facility and now three years later in Gobi Solitary City—what exactly did that man with gold-rimmed glasses want?
After breaking through the iron gate of confinement, the Rebel Army found themselves in an entirely different world. The wide main road contrasted sharply with the long street they had mistakenly wandered onto earlier; here were vibrant shops and streetscapes filled with life, pedestrians enjoying their nightlife, and a bustling atmosphere that had long been absent.
Near the blockade gate, things were relatively quiet; service halls stood on either side. These shops did not belong to nighttime activities; by past standards, they should have been closed for business—doors locked and lights out. The darkness behind the iron gate merged seamlessly with the bright lights ahead—a perfect transition.
The alarm from the compound still blared loudly in their ears, yet no sign of an anticipated encirclement team appeared. While relieved, Ming Junwei also felt somewhat bewildered.
Was this really Kenny's territory? Reflecting on his memories of Underground Testing Facility compared to this place, it was astonishing how different their security measures were. In such a proud Lonely City standing in Gobi, how could their security be so inadequate? Where had those burly Field Duty personnel gone who treated killing as routine?
He recalled a conversation he had on the second floor of a bar with Song Jiu: if this place was indeed at the center of Zombie Camp surrounded by chains, then everything happening now made more sense.
"Benefiting from its advantages comes with its burdens."
The Zombie Camp scattered throughout various corners continuously supplied resources here—breaking down and rebuilding from scratch—not only dispersing individual camps but also energy itself. Although every move Kenny made left people astonished and speechless, he ultimately lacked omnipotence; building a pyramid required sacrifices, and this Lonely City's weak security was undoubtedly a significant shortcoming in his grand design.
Ming Junwei felt a sense of relief; Kenny was not omnipotent, and this genuinely made him grateful. If Kenny could truly handle everything, it would be too terrifying.
Having stumbled too many times in the past, Ming Junwei dared not celebrate too early. The Lonely City had too many oddities, and speculation could not be taken seriously. Since there were no powerful guards attacking at the moment, it was the perfect opportunity for him to act. He quickly instructed the young man to re-secure the Gate and blended into the Rebel Army, marching confidently toward the intersection a hundred meters away.
"Am I dreaming?" Rebel A exclaimed, staring at the illuminated sign of a Store across the street, murmuring, "That's a bar."
"Hot pot! I smell hot pot!" Rebel B nodded in agreement, inhaling deeply as he tried to locate the long-missed aroma.
"They seem to not see us," the young man scratched his head and leaned closer to Ming Junwei, pointing at several young men and women walking by. "What's going on?"
Not only were they stunned, but Ming Junwei also felt a bit dazed. The street scenes belonging to the civilized world were indeed shocking enough, but it was the nonchalant passersby that surprised him even more. Ming Junwei felt as if he were with a group of country bumpkins who had never entered a city. They stared wide-eyed at the vibrant lights and bustling nightlife, while those living here regarded them with indifference, showing no unusual expressions toward the twenty or so people suddenly appearing in the middle of the street.
"Brother, what should we do?" The young man’s palm was sweaty around his dagger; he was ready for a fight, yet the scene before him made him feel like he had walked into the wrong film set.
"Let’s go; put away your weapons," Ming Junwei replied quietly. After a moment's thought, he added, "Stay close to me."
The young man blinked as if he understood something and followed closely behind Ming Junwei, creating some distance from the Rebel Army. Most of the Rebel Army stood frozen in place; a few women kept pace with Ming Junwei while others remained still. He kept an eye on the main road's activity and vaguely noticed that more people seemed to be heading toward the iron Gate. The piercing alarm had faded away at some point, as if the earlier chaos had settled into silence.
Ming Junwei did not let his guard down; something felt off. Everything seemed too smooth, making it all feel unreal.
"Damn it! We've been living like dogs these years; just look at them."
The Rebel Army continued to chatter among themselves, seemingly forgetting their identities and circumstances as they watched well-dressed and clean Passersby with glimmering eyes.
"Look! Look!" A girl suddenly became excited, pointing at a young man passing by. "He’s carrying a guitar—so handsome!"
"Shh! He’s looking over here." Her companion suddenly became shy as the young man seemed to hear their chatter. He turned around with a smile, walked a few steps away, then turned back again.
The two girls were nervous, fidgeting with the corners of their clothes, unsure of what to do.
The young man stood in front of the Rebel Army, glancing around at the disheveled individuals and then at the weapons in their hands. He smiled and greeted them, asking, "Is today an emergency drill? I didn't see any notice during the day."
The Rebel Army members exchanged confused looks, not understanding what the young man was talking about.
Ming Junwei raised an eyebrow, a strange meaning flashing in Cyclops's eyes as he murmured, "Drill."
"Big brother, it seems like he's not afraid of us," the young man whispered. "That's strange."
Ming Junwei remained silent, feeling as if he had thought of something but couldn't grasp the main point.
After a moment of shock, the Rebel Army members seemed to come to their senses. A few men who had confiscated weapons whispered among themselves before suddenly bursting into a series of harsh laughs, drawing curious glances from passersby.
"Let's go," Ming Junwei felt an uneasy sensation rising in his chest.
As Ming Junwei and the young man led a few women across the street, they suddenly heard a scream from behind. Turning around, they saw several armed men inexplicably blocking two passing young ladies on the street, starting to harass them right in front of everyone.
Ming Junwei frowned, sensing that the situation was spiraling out of control. Just as he hesitated, the young man with the guitar stepped forward and pushed aside one of the Rebel Army members, angrily accusing him of something. The two sides began to shove each other, attracting more onlookers. Then one of the Rebel Army members pressed his gun against the young man's forehead.
"Do you believe I'll blow your head off?" The man's eyes gleamed with malice; Ming Junwei had not seen such a look when they were tied up like grasshoppers.
The young man's face turned pale as he spoke each word deliberately: "You've crossed the line."
Ming Junwei's gaze drifted past them towards the iron gate; a crowd that had appeared at the end of the main road was now standing in front of the gate, seemingly unwilling to enter.
There were many onlookers at the intersection. Ming Junwei observed them closely; there were men and women of various ages. Some were curiously inquiring about what was happening while others wore expressions of casual amusement. They didn't seem like typical spectators who would keep their distance from trouble; it appeared that no one was worried about the young man being threatened at gunpoint.
Ming Junwei felt an increasingly strange sensation in his heart. He nudged the young man beside him, signaling him to step back and not stand in front.
The Rebel Army seemed to sense something odd as well, retreating into the crowd and distancing themselves from the few people in the middle of the road.
The expressions of the men blocking the young ladies changed slightly. As they noticed more and more onlookers gathering around, they began to realize how foolish their actions were. They wanted to step back but felt it would be a loss of face. Glancing at the guns in their hands, their courage swelled once more.
The man with the raised gun maintained his arrogance. Out of the corner of his eye, he caught sight of the two young ladies who had been stopped. To his surprise, they hadn’t run away; instead, they stood there with displeased expressions.
"You've crossed the line," The Young Man with the Guitar repeated coldly, glancing at him with a sneer as he pushed aside the gun's muzzle.
The man was enraged. He saw disdain in the young man's eyes, a look akin to that directed at a blustering stray dog.
With a curse, he swung his hand and slapped the young man across the face. The young man was sturdy; the force of the slap spun him around, causing his cheek to swell and blood to gush from his nose.
"How dare you!" The man felt a rush of regained dignity, his eyes flashing with malice as he shouted at the onlookers, "Get lost or I'll gouge your eyes out!"
"You've crossed the line," the young man said calmly as he wiped away the blood from his nose.
"I'll show you today—" The man turned around, raising his gun stock, but froze mid-motion.
The two men who had been blocking the young ladies also paused. The young man who had just been slapped didn’t explode in anger or cower in fear. Instead, he exchanged questioning glances with the surrounding crowd, who all nodded in response. Then, he pulled out a pitch-black handgun from his pocket, racked it smoothly as if he were one of those students from before.
"You've crossed the line," he repeated for the fourth time. After saying this, he gently squeezed the trigger.
A flash erupted from the gun's muzzle as a bullet struck precisely between the man's eyebrows. A spray of blood mixed with brain matter burst forth as his body trembled before crashing to the ground, red and white splattering behind him.
The onlookers remained calm and collected, their gazes shifting from the lifeless body on the ground to the other two men standing nearby.
The young man put away his gun and took a tissue handed to him by a passerby to stop the bleeding from his nose. He thanked the stranger and squeezed through the crowd, leaving the street.
The two men were flustered; despite holding a rifle, they couldn't muster the courage to aim it at anyone.
Man A looked alarmed as he glanced at the Rebel Army disappearing into the crowd. Just moments ago, his companions had turned their faces away, pretending not to know them.
"I'm sorry, I apologize," Man B suddenly had a realization and hurriedly expressed his apologies to the two young ladies, bowing and scraping as he said, "It was just a misunderstanding, I'm really sorry."
Seeing this, Man A also approached, and the two burly men with guns wore anxious expressions as they repeatedly apologized to the young ladies. The scene was both comical and bizarre.
Hidden among the onlookers, Ming Junwei suddenly understood. A chill ran down his back as he felt ashamed of his earlier judgments and assumptions about this place. More than that, he felt an inexplicable sense of dread.
"The security forces are weak; they can't manage everything with limited resources."
Ming Junwei sighed in frustration and pulled the young man away from the crowd.
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