Chapter 132 Can We Be Real?

As the white smoke dissipated, the horrific scene inside the hall left the faction leaders completely dumbfounded. Even the few who remained somewhat sober were utterly stunned, unable to recover their senses for a long time.

Looking at the piles of minced meat and mutilated corpses on the hall floor, it was nothing short of a literal meat grinder. Splintered flesh and bone fragments, bodies severed in two, headless corpses—the sheer quantity of over a hundred people formed a thick layer covering this auditorium-like hall. Beneath them, bright red, dark red, blackish-red, and pale fluids merged into a pool of crimson liquid, presenting a spectacle of unparalleled cruelty.

A heavy, pungent stench filled the air, making breathing agonizingly difficult. When the onlookers finally regained their wits, many could not stop vomiting, heaving until their stomachs felt empty, their faces deathly pale and wretched—clearly, this had far exceeded their limits of endurance.

Hearing Political Commissar Gong’s frantic shouts, none of these faction leaders dared to make a move. Right before their eyes was a living example; they certainly did not consider themselves any more formidable than those little Japanese bastards. Even if all of them charged together, they wouldn't dare, because they were terrified!

Much like wolves entering a flock of sheep, the sheep possessed neither the capacity nor the psychological urge to resist. Deep within their instincts, they resolutely rejected the notion of making an enemy of a man named Liang Jing.

Making the same choice alongside them was Gao Yaotai, Political Commissar Gong’s close bodyguard, an Awakened one whose mastery of hard qigong was immensely powerful. At this moment, he stood far away from Political Commissar Gong. Of course, his distance was not due to fear of opposing Liang Jing; rather, Political Commissar Gong’s association with the little Japanese had filled him with utter despair toward the man. When it came to the boundaries of country and nation, he decisively severed ties with the commissar. This act of leniency was merely out of respect for the commissar's previous favor and care toward him; otherwise, he would not have allowed such a traitorous existence to come to a peaceful end.

His passionate blood and his roots lay right here, forming an insurmountable hurdle in his heart.

Clack-clack! Clack-clack-clack!—

Having recovered from his frenzied rampage of venting, Liang Jing turned his gaze instantly toward Political Commissar Gong. He did not want to wait any longer; he was thoroughly sick of this irritating cycle where every time he killed someone, a bunch of nobodies popped up to obstruct him. Even worse, the appearance of these little Japanese had left him in a thoroughly foul mood. Even after indulging in a brutal, vented slaughter, he was still furious!

Boom!

As Liang Jing stood there, his brilliantly shining armor now drenched in bright red blood, shattered flesh, and gore, he looked like an immortal god of war crawled out from a sea of corpses on an ancient battlefield, or a blood-thirsty Asura climbed straight up from hell. His murderous aura pierced the heavens, and his oppressive might was palpable.

In an instant, Political Commissar Gong was struck by a chilling realization: he was doomed. The man truly intended to kill him, and without a single shred of hesitation. He was gripped by profound regret—regret for getting involved in this matter in the first place, and regret for yielding to the request of that Tu turtle. Otherwise, how could he have ever provoked this demon, this madman?

Good god! The world had truly changed, spawning even such madmen as this. Seeing the hall’s faction leaders and his own close bodyguard Gao Yaotai pretending not to notice and standing as far away as possible, his body and soul grew utterly cold. He was truly finished; his subordinates were either dead or gone. A sense of despair, of being utterly abandoned by everyone, flooded his heart.

No, I cannot die! No matter what!

"No, don't kill me! If you kill me, you will bring upon yourself massive trouble! Don't kill me, I will be your subordinate, your slave—just as long as you don't kill me! Liang Jing, I am a regiment political commissar, I can help you do so many things, really, I beg you not to kill me!" Political Commissar Gong collapsed onto the floor, ignoring the sharp pain of his fractured ribs, and wept snot and tears as he bitterly pleaded with Liang Jing.

God!

Everyone was instantly frozen in shock, though they could easily understand the sentiment soon after. No one wanted to die, after all. Perhaps if they were ever placed in such a situation, they would make the exact same choice.

However, this did not stop them from casting looks of absolute contempt in his direction. This person was truly beyond pathetic.

Raising the dark gold greatsword in his hand high, Liang Jing stared down at Political Commissar Gong, who lay on the ground two meters away. His gaze carried an ice-cold frost, dropping the ambient temperature by several degrees wherever it swept. He loathed this man to the utmost extreme; the man had desecrated the sacredness within Liang Jing's heart. He had to kill him, to wash away the taint upon his sacred inner sanctuary with the man's blood. Nothing could stop him, and he harbored zero hesitation.

"Stop right there! Impudent! Halt at once!" At that moment, a furious roar echoed from outside the doorway, its tone rigid and resolute, as if accustomed to barking orders on a daily basis.

Yet, it had zero effect on Liang Jing. Equipped with his hyper-enhanced five senses and the miraculous mini-map—which outperformed any radar—everything around him was entirely under his surveillance. Although the roar unleashed by the newcomer displayed considerable force, practically matching his own previous shouts, Liang Jing paid it no mind whatsoever. It failed to disrupt his intended actions in the slightest. In fact, it only irritated him further. One after another, people kept popping up to interfere, fueling the inner fire that had already been ignited by the little Japanese and traitors, making it burn even hotter.

Political Commissar Gong had been on the verge of total despair, never expecting a turnaround to arrive at this very moment. The urge to survive eclipsed everything else, and he screamed at the top of his lungs, exhausting every ounce of his remaining strength.

"Old Zhang, save me! Quick, bring the troops over here! If this murderous fiend is not eliminated, he will become an endless disaster in the future, an endless scourge..."

Political Commissar Gong was beside himself with excitement. Having narrowly escaped the jaws of death, he was utterly incapable of calming down, completely forgetting that his life and death still remained entirely within Liang Jing's control.

Whoosh!—

Amidst Liang Jing’s icy gaze, the dark gold greatsword sliced through the air, carrying the chilling, death-laden whine of the wind. The onlookers only saw a flash of light and shadow before they could even process what was happening.

"Ah!—Pain, pain, it hurts so much!" Still basking in the thrilling excitement of his miraculous survival, Political Commissar Gong was violently snapped back to reality by excruciating pain. He let out a hysterical, blood-curdling scream, his body struggling instinctively.

It was only then, amidst Political Commissar Gong’s thrashing, that the crowd clearly perceived what had transpired. Once again, Liang Jing’s ruthless efficiency made their hearts contract in terror. Too vicious! While the previous slaughter of the little Japanese had been brutal, it was at least a swift, instantaneous death. But now, Political Commissar Gong’s four limbs had been severed clean at the roots in a single stroke, turning him into a human torso. Blood continually gushed forth from the four gruesome stumps, spraying even more wildly as he writhed in agony.

Liang Jing didn't even bother to glance at the man's fate. He was long accustomed to such sights; after slaughtering pigs for so many years, which time didn't involve gushing torrents of blood? He felt nothing amiss.

Turning around, he cast an icy glare at the others before finally shifting his attention to the person who had just shouted for him to stop. The man appeared to be in his late thirties, lean, straight-backed, with dark, sun-tanned skin. His chiseled facial features exuded a resolute, unyielding strength, accompanied by an aura of swift, decisive efficiency.

This was a soldier, and not of a low rank either—possessing a firm and unyielding character. Such was Liang Jing’s initial impression. Of course, Liang Jing wouldn't hastily judge the man's true nature based solely on this; after all, that Political Commissar Gong hadn't exactly looked devoid of righteousness initially either.

Accompanying the newcomer were two other men. One was in his forties, with a square, steady face, standing close to the lean man like a personal guard or aide. The other man was also in his forties, possessing rather ordinary, scholarly features and a medium build. His blood-stained uniform was identical to the one worn by the screaming, limb-severed Political Commissar Gong who was bleeding out on the floor—he too was a regiment political commissar.

"You—how audacious! Have you grown a leopard's gallbladder and a bear's heart?" Staring at the human-trunk Political Commissar Gong and the floor littered with mutilated corpses and flesh, Commander Zhang’s dark, weathered face seemed to twitch slightly. Clearly, he had not expected the perpetrator to be so vicious, completely defying his expectations. Even for him, it was a sight difficult to process immediately.

"Speak! Just who on earth are you, and why are you being so vicious? Do you have any idea who he is? Harming a state public servant—you are breaking the law!" Commander Zhang’s dark face flushed with a reddish hue, betraying his mounting agitation.

Liang Jing narrowed his eyes, a cold glint flashing within them. His mood was already exceptionally foul, and now another person had jumped out to directly obstruct him, slapping him with criminal charges and preaching about laws and punishment. The greatsword he had previously slung behind his back was unsheathed once more, gripped tightly in his hand.

Observing Liang Jing’s movements and surveying the carnage in the hall, almost everyone's heart experienced another violent contraction, their necks shrinking back as an involuntary chill washed over them.

Damn it, here we go again!

Liang Jing paid no heed to the reactions of the others. He loathed these people and these speeches the most. It always felt as though they viewed themselves as the embodiment of all laws and rules, standing upon some high moral pedestal to pass judgment on him and ordinary people like them. In stark contrast, before the apocalypse, he had read countless internet articles detailing how murder wasn't a crime for certain people, how rape carried no sentence, and how no evidence was required other than the fact that—whether ordinary folks believed it or not—those privileged individuals believed it themselves, and that was all that mattered.

Pondering these thoughts only made Liang Jing's mood plummet further. As the saying goes, people worry not about scarcity, but about uneven distribution. Damn it, while everyone constantly chanted about equality, such stark contrasts made him feel the world was profoundly hypocritical—an unbearable, suffocating hypocrisy and frustration.

Could anyone just be real for once?

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Chapter One!

Is a war really about to break out? Let's fight!