The vehicle doors opened, and able-bodied young adults stepped out.
With high-intensity physical labor every day—climbing stairs day in and day out—each of them looked lean, muscular, and radiating strength.
Uniform silver armor and sharp crescent-blade shovels gleamed coldly in the sunlight.
Regardless of what they’d done before or what their personalities had been like, after days of severing human heads and getting used to the sensation of blades cutting through muscle and bone, they’d naturally developed an intimidating killer’s aura.
A few of the women carried even more killing intent than the men.
What had happened at the school made the women—who tended to have stronger moral convictions—especially furious.
Among them were even a few teenage girls, glaring at these parasite-like adults with burning anger.
The crowd shrank back.
Many instinctively stepped backward, pressing toward the center.
As if standing in the middle would make them safer.
A black cat leaped down from the vehicle—and the moment it landed, it had already grown into a sleek black panther. The crowd gasped in shock.
A young woman stepped down from the vehicle. Her silver armor fit perfectly, her eyes were icy cold, her stride was brisk and decisive.
The last to descend was a tall young man with handsome features—the only one among them not wearing armor or carrying a weapon. His long legs were clad in tailored trousers, his white shirt sleeves rolled up, his black leather shoes polished to a shine.
His face was handsome, his bearing casual yet elegant, carrying an air of refinement.
He stood to the left of the young woman, and the black panther stood to her right—both in the posture of attendants.
Jiang Cheng stepped forward, her cool eyes sweeping over the crowd.
No one dared meet her gaze. The crowd instinctively averted their eyes.
“Auntie Jiang!”
“Auntie Jiang—”
The middle schoolers stepped forward and called out to her.
Their voices carried a note of grievance, and tears inexplicably welled up in their eyes.
They had seen her on TV as their idol. They’d always thought that the reason they couldn’t establish a government was simply that they were too young and lacked experience.
But they’d tried so hard to do everything right, to earn her approval.
How had things ended up like this? They’d all worked so hard, taken such risks, given so much without counting the cost.
How did it come to this?
Jiang Cheng extended her hand.
Duan Junqi quickly called out: “Shao Yingchuan!”
Despite the grand name, the one who stepped forward was a small, fair-skinned girl—still young, just a middle schooler.
The little girl clutched a hardcover notebook, ran over, and handed it to Auntie Jiang with both hands.
Very solemn.
Jiang Cheng opened the first page—and the words “The Grudge Book” jumped out at her.
Shao Yingchuan was young and had no superpowers, but she wrote beautifully. She’d been put in charge of registration and accommodation management.
Day after day, she’d dealt with these adults.
She’d endured a lot of rudeness and cried many tears.
But even the senior students couldn’t do anything about these adults, and the teachers just told them not to take it to heart.
How could they not? They just hadn’t had the ability to do anything about it—yet.
This girl who loved writing had always kept a diary. She’d recorded every unpleasant thing that happened each day.
Time, place, person, cause, process, result.
She’d even mockingly titled it “The Grudge Book.”
Just a way to vent her frustrations—she never imagined it would actually be useful one day.
Her handwriting was too beautiful, her records too clear—everything was laid out at a glance.
Jiang Cheng scanned it quickly and couldn’t help casting an approving glance at the girl.
When she looked up again, her eyes had no warmth—frightening.
She finally spoke: “I don’t need to introduce myself.”
Indeed, there was no one in S City who wouldn’t recognize her—Jiang Cheng.
Acting District Mayor of the Tech District Provisional Government.
Leader of S City’s anti-zombie resistance.
An idol to fighters, a beacon of hope to survivors.
Jiang Cheng didn’t waste a single word: “I’m going to call out names. Come forward on your own. Don’t make my people come get you.”
First: the man who’d wasted food in the cafeteria and cursed at the auntie.
“Zhang Baihong.”
Zhang Baihong froze. He tried to hide in the crowd, but he saw a massive, burly young man bend down to listen as the little girl who’d handed over the notebook pointed in his direction.
There was no hiding. That girl had a sharp eye for faces.
Zhang Baihong had no choice but to step forward, his head bowed. He asked very politely and courteously: “M-may I ask, what’s this about?”
Jiang Cheng ignored him and continued reading the next name.
Second: the man who’d destroyed the vegetable patch and made the auntie cry.
“Hong Zhenzong.”
Third: the man who’d shoved the warehouse keeper, made a middle school boy fall and scrape his knee, and forced his way into the warehouse to take supplies.
“Lü Hao.”
Fourth: the woman who’d led the charge to take over the students’ south-facing first-floor classrooms and thrown the kids’ bedding into the hallway.
“Yan Yiwen.”
Hundreds of fully armed young adults stood watch with menacing glares.
Students pointed them out.
No one dared not step forward. Those whose names were called came out with their heads down, nervous and uneasy, huddling together as much as possible.
There had been so many petty, infuriating incidents that Jiang Cheng had to pick and choose which names to call.
She chose the major incidents and the ringleaders.
Even so, she ended up naming over thirty people.
When Jiang Cheng finally closed the hardcover notebook with a sharp snap, the remaining hundreds of refugees felt as if they’d been granted a reprieve.
Many had cold sweat on their foreheads and backs.
Because none of them were fools—everyone knew exactly what they’d done and how they’d participated.
They’d simply taken advantage of the kids’ innocence, naivety, kindness, and easygoing nature.
Now that truly decisive adults had arrived with armed force, everyone immediately became obedient, law-abiding citizens.
If they’d originally sought refuge in the strictly managed, systematic Tech District, they might all be working diligently now—contributing labor, following rules, and getting along with others.
“I hereby announce,” Jiang Cheng’s gaze bore down on them, “that Guangxiu District, having failed to meet the conditions for establishing a provisional government, is hereby incorporated into the Tech District under unified management.”
“The thirty-seven individuals named above, having refused to comply with management, are hereby subject to repatriation.”
“Out of humanitarian consideration, you will be provided with armor and weapons and repatriated to your original places of residence.”
“Going home” was something that only happened in dreams.
In reality, there was no home to return to.
If they went back, who would provide a steady food supply?
Who would guarantee their safety?
How would they survive?
Would they have to go out every day to fight zombies and scavenge for food?
The thirty-seven people panicked.
Some immediately begged for mercy: “We know we were wrong—we’ll change. We won’t do it again.”
See—Jiang Cheng hadn’t even announced what the “charges” were, yet they already knew exactly where they’d gone wrong.
Every single one of them knew deep down.
Others protested loudly: “You have no authority to do this!”
Or simply refused: “I’m not leaving! I’m not going anywhere!”
Some even played the victim, wailing: “You’re basically sending us to our deaths~”
It was exactly this thick-skinned, shameless behavior that had left the students completely helpless.
It was unbearable to listen to.
Su Yu frowned.
Suddenly, a force erupted from behind these people—like a shockwave.
All the wailing and screaming stopped abruptly.
Everyone was knocked forward by the sudden burst of force, falling flat on their faces.
Shield • Ejection.
The shield was one-way—you could leave from the inside, but you couldn’t enter from the outside.
The “inside” and “outside” were defined by Su Yu.
The shield could appear and immediately encase the people to be protected. Or it could start small and expand from a single “point” into a domain in an extremely short time.
The shorter the time, the greater the impact force on the outside.
An instant expansion was equivalent to an explosion.
The crowd gasped and stepped back again, starting to press together.
But no one complained—in fact, everyone wanted to squeeze even tighter. That way, they felt safer.
Duan Junqi’s breathing grew heavy. He clenched his fists tightly, struggling to control his emotions and maintain a stoic expression like the adults.
He glanced at Xiao Yunshu, and she happened to look back at him.
Xiao Yunshu was also trying hard to keep a straight face.
But the light in her eyes was too joyful to hide.
Some of the first-year middle schoolers couldn’t contain themselves at all—they clenched their fists and waved them excitedly in the air!
Jiang Cheng merely gave a slight nod of her chin, and the silver-armored fighters moved into action.
They stepped forward, hoisted up the people still dazed on the ground from the shockwave: “Which district are you from? Where do you live?”
They dragged them toward the vehicles.
You could cry, you could scream, you could beg—but those tricks that worked on kids were useless against people who chopped off heads every day.
Zombies had human forms too.
Kill enough of them, and your heart really did turn hard.
Most people’s resistance was futile against the fighters’ strength.
But then came effective resistance—when one man, about to be dragged away, summoned two pillars of flame that shot up from the ground, forcing two fighters to retreat in haste!
Jiang Cheng remembered this man. His accomplice had shoved the boy guarding the warehouse and forcibly taken supplies. When the older students rushed over to stop them, this man had shot a fireball and burned off Xiao Yunshu’s braid.
She’d seen Xiao Yunshu’s sorry state as soon as she got out of the vehicle.
Her high ponytail had been burned off. With her hair down, the back of her head was sloped at an angle.
She’d tied it up as best she could, but she was stuck with that haircut.
No wonder she’d been crying with anger.
Jiang Cheng’s lips curved slightly.
A little resistance made things more interesting.
She asked: “Are you trying to force our hand?”
The fire-type man cursed: “Fuck you! Who do you think you are? What gives you the right? What law says you have the authority to expel us?”
Both his hands blazed with roaring flames, heat radiating outward, keeping people at bay.
He was a fairly strong fire-type superpower user by outside standards. He’d come seeking shelter on his own, but never mentioned he had superpowers—which was how Xiao Yunshu had been caught off guard and ambushed.
He was also one of the ringleaders who’d taken over the school’s supplies and refused to let the kids be in charge.
He relied on his strong fire-type ability.
He’d observed that his superpower was stronger than all the students’ abilities combined. If it came to a real fight, he had a good chance of winning.
Jiang Cheng said: “Power is seized by oneself.”
Here it comes again, here it comes again!
Song Jingshuo crossed his arms and looked up at the sky.
Several people close to Jiang Cheng started shifting their gazes.
Spend enough time with someone and you get to know them.
Everyone had gradually come to understand that Jiang Cheng was actually… especially unforgiving.
If she ignored you, it was most likely because what you’d done was so trivial it didn’t even rise to the level of earning her displeasure—she couldn’t be bothered to look at you.
You should be glad she couldn’t be bothered.
Because if she looked you in the eye and spoke to you calmly, that was very dangerous.
Though Jiang Cheng was unforgiving, she respected basic legal principles, moral concepts, and procedural justice.
Because these were the framework for maintaining an orderly society. Since Jiang Cheng didn’t act on personal whims, everyone else had to abide by the constraints of that framework.
And that was how order was formed and maintained.
But Jiang Cheng… small evils only warranted small punishments—too boring for her.
She preferred you to commit great evils.
When you committed great evil—reaching the level where common morality deemed severe punishment warranted—then she could act with just cause.
Listen—her voice carried a hint of temptation.
Sure enough, those words stirred the fire-type man’s ambition.
He’d originally wanted to seize control of this school too. But he’d been able to laze around, eat and drink for free, without having to manage or worry about anything, watching the student kids bustle about like busy little worker bees. The warehouse supplies were there for the taking whenever he wanted—the kids couldn’t stop him anyway—so he’d never made his move.
But now, facing adults, it was time to seize real power!
To defeat the enemy, first capture their leader!
Decapitation was the greatest blow to a collective’s morale. If he could kill the leader in one strike, establish dominance, and intimidate the rest into submission—he’d win outright!
He could only be called naive.
Jiang Cheng and her team’s TV broadcasts had always focused on politics, management, and experience.
They’d never shown battle footage.
No one had ever known just how strong the armed forces Jiang Cheng commanded really were.
But don’t forget—superpowers grew stronger with use.
Day after day, the Tech District’s combat teams never stopped.
When the fireball erupted and shot toward Jiang Cheng, most people just raised an eyebrow.
No combat-type or even Su Yu needed to step in.
Moli couldn’t even be bothered to move.
A water shield formed in the open space between Jiang Cheng and the fire-type man, blocking the fireball’s path.
This water shield wasn’t a single-layer disc-shaped barrier. Through experimentation, they’d learned that such a shield couldn’t stop a powerful fireball—a strong enough fireball would only be weakened by one layer before breaking through and continuing toward its target.
So the water shield that materialized was actually shaped like an ice cream cone.
The fireball drilled into the “cone” like a scoop of ice cream, rapidly shrinking until it vanished—in the blink of an eye.
One blink, and an assassination attempt had failed.
Knowing there was a fire-type among those to be dealt with, Li Jiangbing had positioned himself strategically from the moment he got off the vehicle—right next to the school plaza’s fountain pool.
Finally, he had a chance to participate in a battle with his superpower instead of relying on muscle and a shovel.
Happy.
Jiang Cheng turned and asked Wu Jiancheng: “How powerful was that fireball?”
Wu Jiancheng, completely missing the cue, said: “Mediocre, I guess.”
Jiang Cheng had to prompt further: “Could it have killed me?”
“Oh!” Wu Jiancheng finally caught on. “Definitely yes.”
Jiang Cheng: “So that’s attempted murder?”
Wu Jiancheng affirmed enthusiastically: “Absolutely!”
“Good.” Jiang Cheng was pleased too. “Go, Moli.”
The black panther leaped into the air and pounced!
Shrieks erupted all around.
A team member with a digital camera had been recording the whole time.
Before they’d come, Jiang Cheng had told them to film.
She’d said: “We just happen to need a model.”
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