Guillermo

"So, where are we going?"

"The quarry, your camp. Don't you know?"

"Of course I know, but I didn't expect those idiots to trust you so easily."

"It's normal to trust your savior. Aren't you one?"

Mo Er choked for a moment, then slowly said, "That's not necessarily true."

"Well, compared to family, a savior is insignificant. Right?"

Caesar finished a bottle of water, slipped it through a crack in the window, and said casually.

Moore took a deep breath, glanced at Caesar, and said, "Those idiots told you about my family?"

"No, they just said you're a jerk. If they were stuck in the desert with you, they would never give up their last bottle of water. Instead, they would make people watch you drink water before they die of thirst."

"Tsk, you're right. A complete bastard!"

Caesar nodded, agreeing with Andrea and the others' assessment.

Changing the subject, Caesar continued.

"But you've never killed anyone, have you?"

Moore gripped the steering wheel tightly, his brows furrowed, and his arrogant smile froze.

"There's a huge difference between someone who's never killed and someone who has; you can tell at a glance. Like you and me."

"You believe you are a predator, distrust the people in the camp, yet you don't leave them."

"Why? Because of your family?"

Caesar knew very well what kind of person More was: an absolute egoist, but with a younger brother he loved dearly.

Moor's brother was his most vulnerable spot, and also his most steadfast belief.

As long as Daryl exists, Mor cannot betray Daryl.

This loyalty even extended to Daryl's faction.

Moore did not reply; he remained silent.

The wheels rolled on, passing through the lifeless central area of ​​Atlanta and gradually reaching the outer areas.

The number of zombies in the surrounding area is decreasing rapidly, and most of them are even in a dormant state.

Abandoned stores, zombies lying haphazardly on the road, like sandbags and fortifications on a battlefield.

Apart from these, it's not much different from peacetime.

Caesar looked out the window and frowned; he realized something was wrong.

There was a car parked at the entrance of two or three alleys. Although there was blood on the car, there was not much dust. Someone had driven it recently.

Then, Caesar's gaze settled on two or three vehicles parked on the side of the road.

The vehicles were shaking slightly, and the engines were running.

There are people inside!

The situation was not good. Caesar's expression grew increasingly calm as he tried to find some traces on the vehicles that matched his memory.

Looking up, Caesar saw a black pickup truck and his pupils contracted.

That's Beth's car.

Beth is Rip's girlfriend, and she spends time with Grandpa Jimmy.

When Caesar led his men to look for the two, they found that the two had packed their things and left. Unexpectedly, they found traces of them in this place.

Without a second thought, Caesar pointed at the black pickup truck and ordered, "Moore, ram it."

Moore said, "Okay."

He also noticed something was wrong with the vehicles, but he instinctively obeyed Caesar.

Mohr slammed on the gas pedal, and the internal combustion engine roared to life.

The wheels spun rapidly, propelling the vehicle straight into the pickup truck parked on the side of the road.

The people in the pickup truck saw in their rearview mirror that a car was crashing into them.

The pickup truck had only gone a few meters when Caesar's vehicle crashed into it.

With a loud bang, a large dent appeared in the pickup truck's body, and it was then pushed against the side of the wall.

The pickup truck's wheels spun, producing blue smoke as they rubbed against the ground, but it couldn't break free no matter what it did.

Another loud bang, and the car shook violently.

Philip's bald head slammed into the car door, and he clutched his head and screamed in pain.

His cousin, though frail and unharmed, huddled up and stared in terror at the car outside the passenger window.

Caesar and More opened the car door and got out, no longer carrying cold weapons, but each carrying a rifle.

Moore turned around, his gun pointed at the street, and his accomplices rushed over when they saw the Pikachu being attacked.

The cars formed a fan shape around Caesar's car.

But no one got out of the vehicles, wary of the rifle in Moore's hand.

Caesar stepped on the front of the pickup truck, his face cold, and stomped on the hood a few times.

Broken glass shards splashed onto the faces of the two people inside the car. Philippe covered his face in horror, screaming with each shard of glass hitting him.

His cousin was even more terrifying, curled up, trembling and screaming in agony.

After several kicks, the windshield was finally smashed.

Caesar raised his gun and aimed it at the two men: "Tell me, where did you get your car?"

Philip looked at Caesar on the hood of the car. He was backlit, so his face was obscured, but he could see his tall figure, his indifferent words, and the cold expression beneath his cowboy hat.

For a moment, Philip was too frightened to utter a sound.

My cousin, who was standing next to me, rolled his eyes and fainted, his body soaking wet.

Caesar disliked such a tough guy, so he fired a few shots into the sky, the sulfurous muzzles aimed at Philip's head.

"I ask, you answer. Understand?"

Philip nodded repeatedly, "I understand, I understand."

"Where did this car come from?"

"...Given to me by my companion."

"Oh, so it was given to you by a fellow player. A fellow player gave it to you?"

Caesar narrowed his eyes: "Your companion's name is Beth?"

"You know him?" Philip asked, delighted.

Caesar lowered his gun, a hint of embarrassment on his face. This was a case of making a mountain out of a molehill.

Then, Caesar, carrying his gun, walked toward the cars on the outer perimeter.

As Caesar passed Mor, he patted Mor on the shoulder, indicating that he no longer needed to hold his gun.

Caesar spread his arms, pointed his gun to the sky, and said loudly, "Let's talk."

One of the cars opened its door, and a man with a buzz cut stepped out, wearing a striped shirt over a black vest.

Guillermo walked out of the entourage surrounding the vehicles and headed toward Caesar, his expression hostile.

"What do you want to do?"

"You've got it wrong, I've got the wrong person." Caesar pointed to the pickup truck.

"That was my friend's car, but the person inside wasn't my friend. I thought he knew where my friend was."

"Beth and Grandpa Jimmy?" Guillermo asked.

Caesar nodded. "Yes, it's them."

Guillermo's expression darkened further.

Suddenly, someone showed up at my door for no reason, only to find out it was all a misunderstanding.

Now look what happened; they've lost their target for revenge and also lost a pickup truck.

"I will compensate you."

Seeing Guillermot's frighteningly dark face, Caesar had no choice but to speak.

"Compensation? What can you possibly compensate us for?"

Guillermo's eyes lit up immediately when the topic of compensation came up.

It seems that even in a big city like Atlanta, Guillermo and his companions are not having an easy time.

"Beth has already given us this pickup truck as compensation for what she and Grandpa Jimmy used to eat and drink at the base."

Caesar nodded. "How's the gun?"

"Gun? You have guns?" Guillermo's eyes lit up; most of their guns were pistols.

It was a small-caliber pistol, not very powerful, and even an ordinary person could withstand a few shots from it.

Not to mention the walking dead.