The Path of Slaughter

Ten minutes later, inside the bus parked around the corner.

It was a tour bus, with only one front door.

When it was found, there were no people or keys inside; it was just an empty bus.

At this moment, more than fifty survivors sat inside, visibly impatient.

"Did I hear that Slater is going to give us a lecture?"

"God, the thing I hated most about work was training, and now, even at the end of the world, we still have to listen to his lectures?"

"Exactly, does attending the class mean we'll get more food? Will anyone improve our conditions?"

"Don't even think about it, he's definitely going to brainwash us, make us go out to fight, and be cannon fodder!"

"Isn't this treating us like fools?! Cantrell is at the physical limit and he doesn't have to fight, why should we, ordinary people, risk our lives against zombies for a pack of chips? For a pack of instant noodles?"

"Let's just keep it down, guys. We can't go anywhere right now, so we might as well stay here."

"Look, you're all overthinking it. Slater is probably afraid we'll go back and encourage more people to leave. He's coming to plead with us!"

"Right, I also think that's possible. Later, we can negotiate with him to improve our food rations. This is a rare opportunity for negotiation, we can't miss it!"

"Everyone, let's be united later. Demand better food together, loudly and clearly. No backing out, or don't blame us for not considering you a friend!"

"Don't worry, it's a good cause. We'll definitely stand united!"

As everyone was talking spiritedly, suddenly someone knocked on the glass and said:

"Shh, stop talking, Slater is heading this way!"

Everyone quickly fell silent.

They pondered in their minds how to negotiate with Slater.

Slater's pace was quick, his footsteps brisk as he approached the bus.

He slowly boarded the bus and then forcefully shut the door using his hands.

The door was electrically operated, and pushing it with brute force was quite strenuous.

But the people inside the bus didn't notice this detail.

They just thought that Slater shut the door to prevent their voices from being heard outside when they started demanding benefits.

They didn't think much of it.

Slater stood at the front of the bus, looking at these survivors with faces full of disdain and even some mockery.

He recalled the food he had collected through great difficulties, which he had to share with them.

In the end, he received not a single word of thanks and instead, he became the bad guy.

All he wanted was to unite everyone's strength in the post-apocalyptic world and survive together.

He hadn't expected human nature to be so chaotic!

"Now, there are no outsiders here, and I want to say something," Slater said with a downcast expression.

"I didn't establish this camp to satisfy my own desires!"

"You've been here for a few days, you should know what kind of person I am."

"I've never hoarded food, nor have I let anyone go hungry."

"Sometimes when we encounter survivors in distress, if I can help, I would go without food and drink to assist them!"

"Why do you think I do this?"

At this point, Slater suddenly felt wronged, his eyes reddening and his voice choked with emotion:

"This is the apocalypse! We are all survivors!"

"My purpose in establishing the camp is to unite everyone, to fight against zombies and the even more terrifying monsters that are coming!"

"To survive in such a cruel world, we must enhance our own strength!"

"If the indigenous people couldn't resist these terrifying monsters, what makes you think you can survive by doing nothing?!"

"Isn't that absurd and laughable?!"

"I ask you to train and fight zombies not to send you to your deaths..."

"If I wanted you dead, wouldn't it have been easier not to take you in at all?"

"Why would I feed you well just to send you to die after eating?"

"I want a unified camp of survivors, all capable of fighting!"

"Only when we are united can we huddle together for warmth and survive through these tough times!"

"Do you understand?!" Slater roared in anguish.

However...

The faces of the survivors inside the bus remained expressionless.

They were completely unmoved.

"Slater, what's the use of saying all this?"

"We'd get better treatment from others. If you let us eat meat every day, I might consider fighting zombies!"

"But look at what you feed us every day? Chips, biscuits, bread, and even water is shared between two or three people!"

"Are you expecting us to risk our lives for this kind of treatment? Do you think we're fools?" a man shouted.

His shout quickly garnered support from others, all of whom loudly echoed his sentiment:

"Exactly, why do people close to you get meat, and we newcomers only get these scraps?"

"Let's not waste words with him. Improve our conditions, and we might consider not inciting others to leave the camp. Otherwise, we'll go back right now and encourage them to leave!"

"Why is all the food in your and Robertson's hands? It's not transparent at all. Who knows how much you guys have hoarded?"

"And not for personal gain? If it's not for personal gain, why do you live in the VIP box? Come sleep on the floor with us!"

...

Watching the faces of these people, Slater wanted to explain.

Only those who join the collection squads get to eat meat. There's simply not enough meat to distribute evenly, naturally, it's prioritized for the squads who fight the zombies.

Robertson keeps records of the supplies collected and distributed; he even went hungry one night after accidentally spilling his own instant noodles, and did not take any supplies from his ring.

Slater lives in the VIP box because he has the strength, the site, and the team—all of which he found and organized... Doesn't he deserve a little preferential treatment?

But as the words came to his lips, Slater suddenly didn't want to say them anymore.

He was tired.

Some people just aren't worth the effort!

"Ha ha... hahaha... hahahahaha~~~"

Amidst the chorus of rebuttals, Slater suddenly burst out laughing.

As if he had heard something utterly unbelievable.

Laughing so hard he bent forwards and backwards, it took him a while to regain his composure, and then he pulled a watermelon knife from his ring.

"Thank you, thank you all!"

"I was still somewhat hesitant..."

"Thank you for helping me make up my mind, now I've decided!"

With that, a flash of cold light.

The man in the front row who had first caused trouble fell into a pool of blood.