✅ Completed Chapter
CHAPTER 327: STANDOFF IN THE SMOKE
STANDOFF IN THE SMOKE
The bandits close in, their eyes wild with aggression and greed. You grip the rifle, sweat beading on your brow as you raise it skyward. The crack of gunfire shatters the tension, echoing through the forest like a thunderclap.
"Back off!" you shout, your voice raw with urgency. "I just want to help your wounded!"
For a heartbeat, the forest stills, the bandits staring at you with a mix of surprise and suspicion. The leader, still on the ground, coughs harshly, his hand clutching his abdomen.
One of the bandits, a wiry man with a scar slicing across his cheek, steps forward, eyes narrowed. "Why should we trust you? You're just another scavenger!"
"Because it's the right thing to do," you reply, lowering the rifle slightly to show you mean no harm. "And because if we fight, more of you will end up like him." You nod toward their leader, who groans and grimaces in the dirt.
The bandits exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, they lower their weapons, albeit reluctantly. The tension remains, but a fragile truce has emerged.
You move toward the wounded bandit leader, keeping your movements slow and deliberate. The other bandits watch every step, fingers twitching near triggers, ready to react at the slightest provocation.
Suddenly, the distant sound of moaning reaches your ears—a zombie horde, drawn by the gunfire. The band's uneasy truce threatens to crumble as panic flickers across their faces.
"Back off!" you shout, your voice raw with urgency. "I just want to help your wounded!"
For a heartbeat, the forest stills, the bandits staring at you with a mix of surprise and suspicion. The leader, still on the ground, coughs harshly, his hand clutching his abdomen.
One of the bandits, a wiry man with a scar slicing across his cheek, steps forward, eyes narrowed. "Why should we trust you? You're just another scavenger!"
"Because it's the right thing to do," you reply, lowering the rifle slightly to show you mean no harm. "And because if we fight, more of you will end up like him." You nod toward their leader, who groans and grimaces in the dirt.
The bandits exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between them. Finally, they lower their weapons, albeit reluctantly. The tension remains, but a fragile truce has emerged.
You move toward the wounded bandit leader, keeping your movements slow and deliberate. The other bandits watch every step, fingers twitching near triggers, ready to react at the slightest provocation.
Suddenly, the distant sound of moaning reaches your ears—a zombie horde, drawn by the gunfire. The band's uneasy truce threatens to crumble as panic flickers across their faces.