The forced expulsion of those who refused to comply with management had only made everyone cower.
But what truly terrified them was the black panther ignoring the fire wall’s defense, charging through the flames, and biting off the fire-type superpower user’s neck in one bite.
That was a person—not a zombie.
A human—a living human!
This Jiang Cheng dared to kill people!
Moli didn’t even need to grow any larger—in that very form, he’d ended a superpower user’s life.
Why was Moli on an entirely different level?
Everyone had sparred with him.
Against Zhou Wang and Brother Dong, he could match their speed.
Against Guo Jun and Gao Yuxuan, he could withstand high-voltage currents.
Against Wu Jiancheng, he ignored the scorching flames—swallowing them in one gulp, extinguishing them with a flick of his tail.
Only the metal-types hadn’t dared to try—afraid that before their blades could even touch Moli, they’d be clawed to death.
Moli carried the fire-type’s corpse to Jiang Cheng’s feet and let go.
Jiang Cheng clasped her hands behind her back and swept her gaze over the remaining refugees.
Now they could feel the chill of the autumn wind—even though the sun was so bright, everyone felt cold.
“I won’t waste words,” Jiang Cheng spoke.
“The No. 14 High School shelter’s trial period is over. Starting today, it enters official operation.”
“Management regulations will be issued shortly.”
“From now on—obey management.”
Jiang Cheng paused.
Everyone thought that was the end—but she spoke again.
Her icy eyes rolled over the crowd.
“I heard that an adult male said he couldn’t find his bedding, and called a middle school girl to help him look?”
Everyone froze.
How could bedding be lost? They were all sleeping together in classrooms—everyone had the same things. How could it be lost?
What did she mean?
“You know I’m talking about you.”
“Go ahead and hide in the crowd.”
“I’ll say this plainly—there are many young girls in this school.”
Jiang Cheng particularly emphasized the word “young,” delivering a deathly warning—
“If anything happens to any of those young girls, I’ll carve you into a human stump.”
In an instant, all the adults understood. The teachers’ faces turned pale.
When Jiang Cheng finally said “Dismissed,” everyone fled quickly.
Those living on higher floors no longer complained about climbing stairs—they scurried right up.
They needed to hide in their classrooms to feel less afraid.
Many hid behind curtains, peeking down at the scene below.
Downstairs, Jiang Cheng turned to face the students, along with a few teachers and parents.
Everyone looked like they’d done something wrong—heads slightly bowed.
Jiang Cheng sighed and said: “Let me introduce you.”
She pointed her thumb at the handsome man beside her: “This is Song Jingshuo—he designed all our current management systems. Today, he’s here to train you.”
Everyone else was in sneakers and combat gear—only Song Jingshuo was dressed well enough to chair a meeting or go on a date. Hands in his pockets, long legs casually planted, he looked like a wealthy heir with his bodyguards.
Why did everyone tolerate Song Jingshuo’s pretentiousness today? Because they’d dumped the troublesome task of “educating kids” on him.
Everyone had been that age once—they all knew how headaches kids this age could be. No one wanted to take this job.
Even Jiang Cheng didn’t want to do it.
That’s why Song Jingshuo had been dragged out on this field assignment.
After the work was done, the team split up.
Some transported the expelled group away.
Others went on with their planned rescue missions.
Jiang Cheng inspected the warehouse and cafeteria, left enough potatoes for a week at No. 14 High School, and left.
The cafeteria auntie was stunned by the basketball-sized potatoes.
—
In the auditorium, the students sat in neat rows.
A folding chair was on the stage. Song Jingshuo sat under the lights, one ankle resting on the opposite knee.
“Talk,” he said. “Why?”
Several student leaders stood before him, heads hanging low.
The teachers and the few parents who had stayed behind had no superpowers. The parents with superpowers had left, and those who remained just helped manage logistics.
The main work—searching for supplies and rescuing survivors—was all done by the students. They had become the main force during this time.
“On September 9th,” Song Jingshuo said, “we already broadcast our institutional framework and management details on TV, specifically as a reference for everyone.”
“Today is the 16th. That content is still playing on loop in the broadcasts.”
“How did you manage to pick up the sesame seeds and drop the watermelon? Why didn’t you use the most crucial distribution system?”
“You—the tallest one—you speak.”
The one called out was Duan Junqi.
Duan Junqi couldn’t avoid it. He steeled himself and answered: “It’s just that… the food thing… we couldn’t do it.”
He nudged Xiao Yunshu with his elbow. Sharing the burden, Xiao Yunshu also spoke up: “It’s just… eating well ourselves while giving them worse food… that felt a bit… we couldn’t bring ourselves to say it.”
Song Jingshuo sneered: “You thought you were being good people, right? Thought you were so kind, right? Adults are all bad people—how could they come up with such a cruel system, right?”
Everyone’s heads drooped even lower, deflated.
Because… they’d actually thought that way. Sometimes they really did wonder—how could adults be so unkind?
How could they let others eat only potatoes?
Song Jingshuo asked: “Do you understand now?”
They all nodded quickly.
Song Jingshuo: “Alright, sit back down. Listen to me.”
“The basic operating principle of any society is: if a person contributes labor, they receive compensation.”
“But now, money is useless. If you want people to work, what do you use as compensation?”
“What can become hard currency?”
“Only the thing that everyone needs most and cannot live without.”
“In this situation, that’s food.”
Song Jingshuo: “Were they all slacking off from the very beginning? Was there no one who came to help at all?”
After a moment of silence, voices from the audience answered: “There were.”
“At first, there were.”
“Later…”
Later, they saw that helping didn’t get them anything, while others lay in the sun and still had food and drink. Those shameless, unscrupulous people even got more than their share. Gradually, no one came to help anymore.
“‘The communal potluck’—you all learned about it in history class, but you couldn’t connect it to what’s in front of you, right?” Song Jingshuo criticized.
The country’s education system was actually quite systematic.
Chinese, History, and Politics—three subjects working together to build civic awareness and big-picture thinking from a young age.
They’d already learned this stuff.
“What you’ve learned isn’t just for answering test questions,” Song Jingshuo said. “It’s meant to be applied to reality.”
The biggest problem for students was that what they learned stayed in their heads—it never landed in practice.
Today, Song Jingshuo sacrificed half a day to break it all down for them, piece by piece.
He even went into detail about each incident—what the other party’s mindset was, what their goals were, and how to respond.
He hadn’t talked this much in a long time. A student handed him a bottle of water, and he downed half of it in one go.
Finally, he said: “Good people can’t be leaders—because leaders have to carry many burdens and make cold decisions, so that ordinary people can be good.”
He didn’t forget to add a jab: “And they also have to face ordinary good people accusing them of not being kind enough, right?”
“The managers contribute their brains, the workers contribute their labor, and the fighters risk their lives—of course they can and should eat and live better than others.”
“Starting tomorrow, each person gets one potato per day. Steamed or roasted, with salt—it’s edible.”
“For anything else—exchange it with labor.”
“No unearned gains.”
“Serving the people means enabling more kind-hearted people to survive—not letting a few shameless parasites sit on top of kind people and shit on them.”
That young man sat with his long legs crossed, his black leather shoes gleaming under the lights.
His gaze was cool as he looked down at the audience.
“Without thunderous methods, don’t practice compassionate hearts.”
—
Jiang Cheng hadn’t been idle either.
Sometimes, when many things happened at just the right time, it wasn’t a coincidence—it was accumulation reaching its breaking point.
It had been over half a month since the second zombie outbreak.
Not only had the district provisional governments’ bases taken in large numbers of survivors, but S City had also formed many shelters of various sizes—like No. 14 High School—taking in survivors on a smaller scale.
Some survivors, after escaping dangerous situations on their own, sought refuge in such places.
Where there were people, there was drama. So many strangers gathering together formed miniature societies.
And not every place had abundant supplies.
Once supplies ran low, or once the power to maintain order was lost, as soon as someone stepped up to lead the way, human nature could easily slide toward the abyss.
It was precisely the right time to establish a public order management system.
No. 14 High School was the perfect case study.
On S City’s local TV station, Jiang Cheng went live again.
Everyone who had access to a television gathered around to hear Jiang Cheng propose detailed public order management regulations.
[Guangxiu District is hereby incorporated into the Tech District under unified management.]
[The following public order management measures are hereby implemented:]
[Intentional homicide (including attempted)—death penalty.]
[Rape (including attempted)—death penalty.]
[Next tier: assault causing injury, public disturbance, embezzlement and dereliction of duty, theft of public property—especially basic survival supplies—shall be punished by flogging, with severity based on the circumstances.]
[Theft of private property, once verified, shall result in double restitution and a verbal warning. After three accumulated warnings, flogging shall be applied.]
[Special circumstances: When the victim is a minor—particularly a child under 14—the severity of punishment may be escalated without upper limit.]
The leaders of provisional governments in various districts were all watching the broadcast.
At this, they exchanged glances: “Escalated without upper limit?”
“If it’s already the death penalty, how can it be escalated further?”
Among the crowd gathered around the TV at No. 14 High School, a scruffy middle-aged man remembered Jiang Cheng’s words about “carving someone into a human stump”—and trembled.
While everyone was watching TV, he quietly slipped away, stole a suit of armor and a weapon, and climbed over the wall to leave the campus on his own.
He left voluntarily.
The TV broadcast showed footage of No. 14 High School: those who refused to comply with management were forcibly expelled, and the one who tried to kill Jiang Cheng was executed on the spot.
Those who had met Jiang Cheng in person all knew about the black cat. Some had only seen it in cat form, others in panther form.
But in either form, it was docile as a pet beside Jiang Cheng.
Who would have thought that with a single “Go” from Jiang Cheng, the pet would become a man-killing beast in an instant?
Zheng Junwei of Shilong District said: “I told you—she’s young, but she must have formidable methods.”
That fire-type superpower user had summoned a wall of flames to defend himself—he really wasn’t weak.
But the panther-like black cat passed through the flames unscathed and killed him with one strike.
Everyone asked: “Is that also a superpower? What is it? Animal control? Has anyone heard of anyone else having such a superpower?”
No—it was the first time for everyone.
Jiang Cheng’s face appeared on the screen again.
[Under the current circumstances, ‘harsh measures for chaotic times’ is appropriate.]
[Under the pressure of survival, we do not have the capacity to allocate manpower for imprisonment and re-education through labor.]
[There is a clear red line between the death penalty and other punishments. Anyone of normal intelligence can understand where that line is.]
[There is no issue of ambiguity.]
[This is not about killing anyone—it’s about reducing enforcement costs and making deterrence more direct.]
[To maintain the collective’s survival, prevent systemic collapse, and deter anti-human behavior.]
[Today, the students of No. 14 High School asked me to abandon their school base and move into the Tech District safe zone to live.]
[I refused them.]
[The Tech District is currently the largest safe zone. It can indeed accommodate many more people.]
[But we have never intended for the Tech District to become an isolated island.]
[Taking in refugees at the Tech District is merely a transitional measure to keep survivors alive.]
[We have never intended to abandon this city!]
[Please do not forget—the many people in this city who risk their lives to eliminate zombies, rescue their compatriots, and establish safe zones have never done so to leave this city or give up on it!]
[Nor are they seeking to claim territory and establish armed separatist regimes!]
[Everyone must remember—our ultimate goal is to reclaim our city, reclaim our homes, reclaim our lives!]
[Let us all return to how things were before!]
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