He slowly loosened his grip on the man's neck and shouted toward the workshop behind him:
"Bring everyone else out! Quickly!"
Though his subordinates were reluctant, under their leader's command and the dark muzzles of the guns opposite them, they could only open another door.
A group of ragged, scarred captives were pushed out. Most of them looked listless, not even daring to look up at the situation outside, thinking it was just another round of torture.
Rick looked at the group, his palms holding the gun drenched in sweat, but he maintained his cold judge-like expression, his finger resting lightly near the trigger, ready to save them the moment the other side completely let down their guard.
Everything seemed to be heading in the best possible direction.
Until—
"This... this is...?"
Another young man dragged out of the workshop by a lackey was also one of the previous survivors.
Because he had been locked inside, he had no idea what was happening outside and hadn't seen Rick's earlier signals.
When he saw Rick's familiar face by the light, it was like seeing his own father; without thinking, he cried out in a breakdown:
"I knew you'd come! Officer! Save us!"
Dead silence fell over the scene.
The man wearing glasses, who had been playing along, closed his eyes in despair, cursing this idiotic teammate's ancestors for eighteen generations in his heart.
Even the cold expression on Rick's face couldn't help but freeze at this moment.
The leader's hand, which was about to lower his gun, suddenly stopped in mid-air.
His sinister gaze rose from the man wearing glasses under his gun, swept over the shouting idiot, and finally locked firmly onto Rick.
Immediately, a wild joy, like returning from hell to heaven, crept onto his face.
"Ha! Hahaha!"
He burst out laughing, suddenly tightening his grip on the man's neck again, shrinking his body completely behind the hostage, leaving only a pair of bloodshot eyes visible.
"I knew it... there's no such thing as such a coincidence."
He had originally thought he was facing a group of unreasonable religious fanatics. If these captives were just irrelevant bystanders, then this group of 'Believers' might very well have killed the hostage along with him for the sake of their so-called doctrine.
After all, madmen have no logic; he had no bargaining chips at all.
But now, that idiot's cry of 'Officer' had completely exposed their hand!
"Officer? Companions?" The leader grinned savagely. "So you're all together!"
Since they were together, the nature of the situation had completely changed.
"Now!"
The leader's gun barrel pressed against the man's temple again as he roared hoarsely at Rick:
"Throw your damn guns away! Now! Or I'll make his brains splatter all over your face!!"
Faced with this hysterical threat, Rick didn't lower his gun; instead, he narrowed his eyes slightly.
"I wouldn't recommend talking to me like that."
His voice was terrifyingly calm, the revolver in his hand steady as a rock. "It will only make you die faster."
"Enough talk!" The leader's finger tightened on the trigger. "Don't forget! I have one of your people! You're here to save him, right?"
"Is that so?"
Shane sneered, taking a step out from the side, his face full of mockery. "Then don't you forget, we also have something much more important to you—"
"Your life."
He pointed at the corpse on the ground, his tone grim:
"We came here to deal with you pieces of trash. As for these few people... if we can save them, that's best; if we can't..."
A ruthless light flashed in his eyes. "Then we don't mind waiting for them to die, then killing all of you to be buried with them!"
"If you really think holding a few lives can threaten us, you'd better go back to sleep."
These words not only stunned the leader but also turned the hostages' faces ashen with fear.
The leader's expression was very heavy; if the hostages were useless, he truly had no cards left to play.
"I don't believe you..." The leader gritted his teeth, sweat mixing with the grease on his face. "I don't believe you really don't care! Back off! Get back!!"
He dragged the man wearing glasses, backing away step by step, trying to retreat deep into the workshop.
"We can let you go."
Just then, Rick spoke suddenly.
The leader's footsteps paused.
"Leave the person."
Staring into the leader's eyes, he slowly lowered his gun, making a gesture of concession. "Take the rest of your men and get out of here."
The leader's gaze shifted back and forth between Rick and Shane.
The current situation was clear: if they fought it out, he might kill a few people, but he would definitely be turned into a sieve by that group of lunatics.
Although they looked fierce, since the leading officer had relented, it showed he still cared about the hostage.
As long as he could leave this hellhole, there would always be a chance for a comeback.
"...Fine."
The leader gritted his teeth and made a decision.
He waved his hand sharply, signaling his subordinates to release the people.
Except for the man wearing glasses held tightly in his arms, the other survivors who had been pushed out were immediately granted amnesty, scrambling toward Rick's side.
"You win, pal."
The leader dragged the man wearing glasses, backing away step by step until his back hit the door of the truck.
While keeping a wary eye on Rick, he reached out to pull the truck door handle:
"I don't want trouble, and I've released most of the people. But this one..."
He tightened his arm around the man's neck and grinned. "To ensure our safety on the road, he must come with us for a while. Once we reach a safe place, I'll naturally let him go."
"What kind of bullshit are you talking?!"
Daryl was instantly enraged, raising his crossbow to step forward. "Leave him! Or I'll pin you to the truck door!"
"Back off!" the leader roared, his gun barrel pressed hard against the hostage's head. The situation fell into a stalemate again.
Just as Rick frowned, considering whether to risk taking a shot—
"I suggest you listen to him and let the hostage go."
A childish but exceptionally calm voice suddenly came from the shadows on the side.
The leader's nerves were taut, and he turned his head sharply.
He saw a child wearing a bulletproof vest and a tactical helmet, wrapped up like an iron barrel, slowly stepping out from behind some old tires.
And in the child's hand was a dark... wooden stick?
"Who are you?" The leader was stunned for a moment, then felt a sense of absurdity.
Louis didn't answer; he just looked at the leader quietly and mimicked the tone Rick and the others had used just now:
"Turn back now, and there's still a chance to make things right."
"Even a man full of sin, if he chooses to repent at this moment, his soul can still be redeemed..."
"Otherwise..."
The 'wooden stick' in Louis's hand rose slightly, pointing directly at the center of the leader's forehead, his tone suddenly turning cold:
"I can only represent the gods and carry out the final judgment on you here—letting you turn to ash in the endless fires of hell."
After hearing this, the leader was first stunned, then as if he had heard something funny, he questioned loudly:
"Ha? Judge me?"
The leader looked at this fully armed little squirt, a mocking expression on his face. "With you? Or with that broken wooden stick in your hand?"
"Yes."
Louis's expression didn't flicker as he answered seriously, "This is the gavel of your judgment. And the key to hell."
This nonsensical yet incredibly certain statement made the leader feel inexplicably uneasy.
He looked at this group of strange people, then at the child speaking such crazy words with a straight face, and his suspicion grew even firmer.
They were simply a bunch of lunatics!