Chapter Ninety-Five: Forcing a Surrender!

"Political Commissar Gong, open fire! Kill this demon!"

Political Commissar Gong was the leader of this operation, and everything was to be conducted under his command. Beside him, Tu Guiwu was trembling with excitement, urging Gong to order the execution of Liang Jing. Several other faction leaders, who had suffered great losses, could not help but shout as well. They harbored too much fear and hatred for this "demon" Liang Jing, who had nearly destroyed everything they possessed.

Gong glanced at these red-faced, agitated individuals with a flicker of displeasure. He was the leader, the most powerful among them, and he found their near-commanding tone intolerable. Furthermore, he had his own hidden agenda. He felt immense impatience toward these people; if it weren't for the need to curry favor with the Tu family, he wouldn't even have granted them an audience, let alone cared for their ambitions. He reprimanded them in a low, cold voice:

"I am in command here! Just watch and provide support! You don't need to teach me how to do my job!"

Over the past few days, he had seen clearly that this Young Master Tu was nothing more than a straw bag. If it weren't for the value of the Tu family's influence, he wouldn't be accommodating him at all. While Tu Guiwu held a certain degree of power, in Gong's eyes, it was negligible—nothing but a paper tiger that would crumble before a real army.

The other leaders, sensing the shift in Gong's tone, quickly fell silent. Only Tu Guiwu remained unconvinced. Having finally found Liang Jing, he could not understand why they weren't simply killing him. Thinking of the harm Liang Jing had caused him, he was unable to calm down. Had his Uncle Xie not reacted quickly to hold him back, he might have caused a scene with the Political Commissar right then and there. Beside him, Jing Hui also sensed the tension, but he was uninterested in the politics. He stared fixedly at Liang Jing, his eyes filled with anticipation. *Your doomsday is coming, Liang Jing. Once you are dead, I can finally be at peace. Hurry up and die, stop your futile struggles.* Surrounded by their dragnet, especially those two "big guys," he didn't believe Liang Jing could survive.

Gong keenly sensed from a distance that Liang Jing felt uneasy about the two old tanks. He nodded with satisfaction; it seemed the target knew fear, which made things much easier. These two tanks were relics from before the founding of the nation. In the chaos of the apocalypse, with no time or resources for proper research and development, they had been modified in the simplest ways. With electronic equipment and power supplies largely non-functional, the tanks were riddled with flaws, yet they still moved. They were retrofitted with reduced-capability autocannons and main guns, though the latter were essentially useless due to a lack of ammunition. Even so, the 25mm autocannons, with a firing rate of sixty rounds per minute, remained formidable. They possessed mobility and a high projectile velocity, capable of devastating effects against various targets.

The autocannon was Gong's final trump card. It was the perfect weapon for dealing with mutant monsters and awakened humans. Although its efficiency had dropped significantly due to the power crisis—down from its original two-hundred rounds per minute to just sixty—its power was still terrifying. It could penetrate walls and even armor.

"Liang Jing, let me introduce myself first. I am the Political Commissar of the military regiment protecting this group of refugees, effectively the highest leader of these hundred thousand people. You may call me Political Commissar Gong. Liang Jing, you are quite impressive; you defy power and dare to resist. I admire you. I invite you to join me and contribute to our nation and our people. We can let bygones be bygones, and no one will pursue your past actions again."

Gong smoothed his expression, attempting to appear benevolent and righteous—a leader who cherished talent. He was confident that, given his status, Liang Jing would make the "correct" choice. As for the regiment commander? The man was currently "ill" and unable to lead, leaving him to "reluctantly" take charge.

Tu Guiwu and Jing Hui’s expressions darkened. They finally realized why Gong had changed his tone; Liang Jing’s abilities were too useful to waste. But for them, the hatred was too deep, and they looked as though they had swallowed something foul.

"Are you truly intent on opposing me?"

Liang Jing’s expression remained unchanged, his eyes as deep and impenetrable as a stagnant pool. He walked down the village's main road, treating the threat of the weapons as if they were invisible. He did not react to the invitation at all, asking his question flatly.

*Humph!*

Gong felt his dignity wounded. He had been gracious and condescending, yet the man ignored him entirely, instead threatening him with a cold inquiry. Since the collapse of the old order, Gong had grown accustomed to being the ultimate authority, and he could not tolerate such a loss of face in front of so many people. Remembering that Liang Jing had killed his soldiers, slaughtered the regiment's only mutant military dog, and extorted ammunition, his anger flared. He felt his authority had been violated; this Liang Jing was too ungrateful and needed to be tamed.

"Liang Jing, don't be ungrateful and obsessed. You must realize the magnitude of your crimes—the wanton killing of the innocent! Only by joining me can you be absolved. If not for yourself, think of your family, your friends, your women!"

Gong’s face shifted, his tone turning sinister and loud. He was explicitly threatening Liang Jing’s loved ones. Liang Jing felt a wave of disappointment. This was the so-called "public servant"? He shook his head. Perhaps the rumors and news reports from before the apocalypse held more truth than he had thought—one truly could not judge a book by its cover. The man’s facade of righteousness made Liang Jing feel physically ill.

At the same time, a surge of rage rose within him. They were threatening the people he cared about again! This was what Liang Jing hated most. He could tolerate being labeled a murderer—he knew those he had killed were his enemies, even if they were just following orders. They were all hunting him, trying to kill him; they were his mortal enemies. He accepted that. But to use his loved ones as leverage?

Recalling the man's tone and the repeated attempts on his life, Liang Jing’s eyes turned glacial. He could no longer hold back.