As Expected… More and More Bad People

Outside the car stood four burly men.

One had been beaten to a pulp, another had his wrist severed, and the remaining two stared in shock at Lam Pham, who held Frostmourne in hand.

The driver's eyes bulged. Without thinking, he rolled up the windows at high speed.

From inside the vehicle, he shouted, "Quick! Get in! The zombies are coming! Hurry!" His voice was loud, but the car's soundproofing was excellent. Not to mention, the ones outside were already frozen with fear.

"Roar!"

At that moment, the howls of zombies rang out, sharp and concentrated. Then, from all directions—alleyways and street ends—a massive wave of zombies surged forth.

Some crashed through glass, some jumped down recklessly, smashing their heads or breaking limbs. But even in such a state, they still rushed forward like rabid dogs.

"Sh*t!"

Seeing his comrades frozen in place, the driver stomped on the gas without hesitation. The vehicle barreled through the zombie horde like wind, smashing its way through. It had to be said, this car was really impressive. Running over zombies felt no more difficult than crushing tofu.

"Damn it! I told you to get in the car! You just had to stand there stunned. I'm not waiting for you!"

The driver's eyes were bloodshot, face twisted with aggression. As the car mowed down zombies, the force of the impact made him feel an overwhelming sense of power.

As the vehicle drove off...

The remaining burly men finally snapped out of their daze. "F**k your mother… Come back!"

But all they got in return was a drifting trail of exhaust smoke. Like a dragon flicking its tail, the car vanished at the end of the street.

"So many zombies."

Lam Pham glanced around. Hearing their roars echoing from shadowy corners, this was the first time he'd seen such a massive tide of undead.

"Looks like these zombies aren't exactly friendly. But when they saw criminals, they still bravely charged in to catch them. It's just... their method of arrest is biting and tearing."

He didn't bear any ill will toward zombies.

But he understood that these creatures still held a childlike sense of justice, only... without reason.

Grabbing the two burly men, Lam Pham was just about to tell the one-handed thug to grab his friend so they could jump away together. But unexpectedly, the injured man flew into a rage.

"Even if I die, I'll take you with me!"

Though missing one hand, he still had the other. He snatched a gun off the ground, pulled the trigger—bang!

"Ahh!"

The man Lam Pham was holding cried out. His butt was hit, blood blooming like a flower.

The gunshot stirred the zombies' bloodlust, making them run even faster, drawing ever closer.

One step, two steps…

Like carrying two chicks, Lam Pham lightly leaped up to the second-story rooftop of a commercial building.

He looked down at the street below.

The one-handed thug was instantly swarmed by zombies. His screams didn't last long. Soon, all that could be heard was the gnawing of flesh, the growls of the undead fighting over scraps.

The man with the gunshot wound clutched his mouth, eyes wide. He didn't dare make a sound.

He was still dazed—what the hell had just happened?

The only unscathed man stared at Lam Pham in awe. Just a moment ago, they were on the ground—and now, in the blink of an eye, this guy had leapt onto the roof. How? Not even world-record athletes could manage something like this.

He looked at the young man in a security uniform, carrying a lifelike replica of a legendary weapon.

"Big bro, thank you for saving me."

He wanted to get close to Lam Pham. He figured finding a powerful leader might not be a bad choice. In the apocalypse, being under a badass's wing meant you could do whatever you wanted.

Lam Pham smiled. "Mm, it's nothing. You guys were stealing from that store. I subdued you. The zombies were trying to stop you too. But their methods were a bit violent. I thought I should ensure your safety, and once they leave, I'll hand you over to the authorities."

Was there anything wrong with what he said?

Not in the slightest.

If someone dies accidentally while you're defending yourself, that's just bad luck. But if the person has already been subdued, and you continue to beat them to death, that's excessive force. If they die, it's your fault.

It's a different legal category.

And he understood that perfectly.

The guy with the wounded butt was sweating from the pain, staring at Lam Pham in shock.

The one talking with Lam Pham was equally dumbfounded. It felt like he had misheard something.

"Big bro… are you joking?"

He couldn't believe it. What nonsense was this about "handing us over to the authorities"? Could this guy not see the situation?

"I'm not joking," Lam Pham replied calmly.

"It's the apocalypse, you know…"

"Yeah, I know."

"You don't get it. In the apocalypse, morality and law collapse. Survival is the only thing that matters. As long as you're alive, nothing is illegal!" The man felt like he was talking to a lunatic.

"Did you go to school?" Lam Pham asked.

The man stared, stunned silent by the unexpected question. Who asks something like that right now?

He had dropped out early but had studied a bit. Still, there was no point in admitting it. Whether he answered or not made no difference. All he wanted now was to find a way to escape from Lam Pham's grasp.

He had a gun on him.

Shoot?

No way. Way too risky.

Seeing him look down, Lam Pham didn't press. In fact, he felt slightly regretful for asking something so out of place—what good was that question now?

Maybe this guy came from a poor background, went astray early on. Pitiful, perhaps. But he made his choices and should face the consequences.

As long as the man didn't attack, Lam Pham wouldn't retaliate. He'd never hurt someone without reason.

Silence fell.

Lam Pham quietly waited for the zombies to leave. He remembered what the man who set off fireworks said—if there's no noise, the zombies would eventually go away.

After a while...

He peeked over the rooftop edge.

Only a few scattered zombies remained. The earlier horde had dispersed.

The one-handed thug lay in a twisted heap, body mangled. Only a bloodied pistol remained beside him.

"Let's go. I'll take you to the authorities. Don't try anything stupid. It'll be dangerous."

Lam Pham jumped down from the rooftop with them.

As they landed...

A few wandering zombies noticed them and charged.

Swish swish!

Thud thud!

Lam Pham swung Frostmourne effortlessly, dealing with them in seconds.

Just then, the man with the pistol slowly raised his weapon, hoping to shoot Lam Pham from behind. But when Lam Pham turned and locked eyes with him, he couldn't pull the trigger.

Clack!

"You could've handed over your stolen weapon. I would've been happy. But you guys…" Lam Pham sighed.

He picked up the man's gun and also retrieved the blood-stained pistol from earlier.

Then he led them toward the police station.

"You're really not going to let us go?" the man asked darkly.

Lam Pham replied, "Everyone does bad things. Some don't need to be reported. But others do—and you have to face the consequences. After you serve your punishment, you'll come out clean. You might still feel guilty, but you won't carry that burden forever."

"You've killed people—I can tell. Earlier, you tried to kill me without a word. That means the apocalypse has unleashed the darkness inside you. You've thrown away morality and law."

Though he seemed to be talking to himself, his words were meant for them.

The man never thought he'd end up in this kind of situation. If their leader were here and heard all this preaching, he'd cut Lam Pham down without hesitation.

Ever since the apocalypse began, their boss had become more and more ruthless, treating people like animals—slaughtering them without thought.

But honestly… even they were beginning to feel like...

"You just killed that guy earlier too..." the man said.

Lam Pham frowned slightly, a bit confused, as if he didn't expect there would still be people unaware of the concept of self-defense.

"He tried to kill me just now. I defended myself. Nothing wrong with that."

The man's mouth twitched.

Self-defense?

Ha ha!!!

...

At the police station.

When they were tied up over there, the two men finally understood—this guy wasn't joking around.

Lam Pham placed the two guns into the drawer and began writing a full account of what happened on paper: someone came to break into my base, I caught them red-handed, someone tried to harm me, I killed them in self-defense, and so on...

These things needed to be done.

Everything had to be documented in detail.

In case the police uncles came back and didn't understand the situation, he didn't want any misunderstandings due to incomplete records.

He did everything that needed doing.

Looking at the two criminals he had dragged in here, he felt a strange sense of satisfaction.

This was the third time he had escorted someone in. And this time, it was two at once. It just proved that as the apocalypse dragged on, bad people were increasing.

"See you later."

He waved a hand.

Turned and left.

Walking down the corridor of the station, he somehow felt a righteous aura surrounding him.

Maybe this was what they called righteous energy.

Passing a large motivational wall poster, he paused, looked at it for a few seconds, and felt a renewed sense of encouragement.

A creaking sound—like he heard something—made him pause and listen for a second or two. Probably just a police uncle finishing his work. He didn't want to disturb, so he quickly left.

"My ass hurts so bad."

"F*ck that guy, I should've just shot him."

"My damn ass is killing me."

"Shut up already! Hurry up and figure out how to untie the ropes and get the hell out of here."

"Fck fck f*ck, what is this thing, leaning on—Ah…"

P/S: reply to DemonicSaint: " Thank you for your feedback. This story is set in China, so some cultural differences—such as names and currency—might have caused confusion. I sincerely appreciate your input and will review and revise the text to make it easier for readers to understand."