Daryl heard this, turned to look at Merle, and seeing Merle silently nod, he turned and returned to the car.
Cradling his precious crossbow, and constantly chewing on the raw meat he had hunted that morning, Daryl couldn't swallow this feeling.
Shawn and Merle exchanged glances, subtly nodding.
He knew this was the first problem he needed to solve as the team leader.
If he couldn't solve it, the losses would be more than just two motorcycles.
The trust of the two formidable individuals he had painstakingly recruited might gradually fade away.
Merle was already a troublemaker, and Daryl was no pushover; if they couldn't even retrieve two motorcycles, and lacked such means, how could they command respect?
"Let's go, target: Farm."
Andrea started the car, kicking up a cloud of dust as she sped off into the distance.
...
Bathed in the golden warm sunlight.
The shapely Maggie leaned over her horse's back.
Her gaze was fixed intently on the approaching wooden house, as if all troubles would disappear once they arrived there.
"Dad! Dad!"
Before even dismounting, Maggie began shouting loudly.
Within three to five seconds, a white-haired old man walked out of the wooden house, followed by a chubby figure and a woman.
A small head with golden hair peeked out from the second floor, and a tall, thin figure in the distance also rushed over upon hearing the commotion.
This scene alone was enough to show the unity and cohesion of this Camp; facing the potential crisis, every member was not idle.
Farm
"What's wrong?"
Maggie's father, Hershel Greene, felt a tightening in his heart and approached quickly.
Having grown accustomed to the leisurely life at the Farm, Hershel was particularly sensitive to crises, even feeling a hint of resistance and fear deep down.
Ultimately, he was just a pitiful old man struggling to survive in the apocalypse with his children and employees.
"A car, it's heading straight for us!"
Maggie pulled out a rifle from the leather pouch on her horse's back, her eyes flickering as she leaned close to Hershel.
Everyone looked towards the distant farmland.
As if to confirm Maggie's words, a silver-gray car rapidly approached, kicking up a cloud of dust.
The car only came to an abrupt stop when it reached the front of the wooden house.
Maggie, Otis, and Jimmy raised their firearms, all swallowing nervously, their expressions tense as they watched the man exit the car.
The man was about 1.9 meters tall, with black hair and brown eyes, lean and not bulky.
This height was considered tall even in the United States; those over 2 meters were extremely rare. Just by watching him from a distance, everyone felt a subtle sense of oppression emanating from the man.
Especially when the man looked over, gripping a bone hammer, everyone's hearts practically leaped into their throats.
"These people are not easy to deal with."
This thought instantly appeared in Hershel's mind, and Merle and Daryl, who got out of the car next, further confirmed his suspicion.
But fortunately, when Andrea and Amy got out of the car, Hershel visibly breathed a sigh of relief.
Among the two women, there was a very young-looking girl, suggesting this group might not be as difficult as he had imagined.
"Don't shoot, I'll go see first."
Hershel blocked Maggie's gun barrel, afraid that his daughter might be too nervous and start an unnecessary conflict.
"I am the owner here. What brings you here?"
Hershel's spontaneous words made Shawn inwardly chuckle.
He's surprisingly polite.
"You can call me Shawn. These are Merle, Daryl, Andrea, and Amy."
Shawn introduced himself first, as he was the one who initiated the visit, and thus needed to show some sincerity.
"We'd like to stay at your Farm for a while, right next to the wooden house."
Shawn pointed to an empty space next to the wooden house, but then met Hershel's immediate refusal.
Shawn raised his hands: "Don't be so quick to decide. Perhaps we should go inside and talk slowly. Believe me, if we wanted to take this place, we wouldn't be coming to talk to you openly."
The old man's mouth was slightly agape, his eyes filled with warning, but he never uttered the harsh words.
If he were 20 years younger, he would never have agreed to Shawn's proposal today.
"Please come in, but no weapons are allowed." Hershel led the four to the entrance of the wooden house and gave Otis a look.
Otis understood, stepped forward, and was about to take the weapons from Daryl and Merle, but was nearly knocked to the ground by a rifle butt from each of them.
"Hey." Shawn looked over.
Daryl averted his gaze, reluctantly handing over his crossbow and knife.
Merle did the same, but his heavily heaving chest told Shawn that he had reached his limit of endurance.
First, his motorcycle was stolen, and then he had to surrender his weapons. Merle's temperament was not suited for peaceful coexistence; even at the Quarry Camp, he had to kill a few Zombies every day to vent his frustration.
Leaning close to Merle's ear, Shawn gently patted his back.
"Give me some time. I won't let the car thieves off the hook. Now, rein in your temper; we need to settle down at the Farm."
Hearing Shawn's words, Merle glared at the Farm's residents before following Shawn inside.
Inside the house.
In front of Shawn and the others were several small bowls, filled with freshly heated, steaming milk.
These were uncommon supplies in the apocalypse, but for Hershel, a farmer, these things were quite ordinary.
It was just that, compared to before the apocalypse, he couldn't consume these supplies as freely as he wished.
Andrea and Amy shyly smiled at Maggie, then sipped their milk in small mouthfuls.
Daryl and Merle remained silent, simply savoring the taste... they had already finished theirs.
"So, Mr. Shawn, you can state your purpose now."
Hershel's tone was stiff, clearly still angry about Shawn's earlier words.
"Then I'll be direct." Shawn wasn't going to humor him.
His gaze swept over every person belonging to the Farm. In reality, though called a Camp, the Farm only had 6 people, which explained the surplus of supplies.
Hershel's two daughters, Maggie and the little moonlight Beth.
The stout man Otis and his wife Patricia, the tall, thin man Jimmy. All three were Farm workers before the apocalypse and had banded together with Hershel's family for warmth after the apocalypse.
His gaze returned to Hershel.
"Even though you've been holed up at the Farm, you should still know what the world is like now."
"Zombies are rampant; they bite anyone they see, and they eat any flesh and blood. I've seen Zombies dismember and eat humans alive."
Shawn wasn't there to provide psychological counseling, so his very first sentence exerted sufficient pressure.
For this group of people who had long been holed up at the Farm, Shawn's words were already quite harsh.
As expected, upon hearing Shawn's words, Hershel frowned, struggling to maintain his composure, while his two daughters behind him showed a hint of alarm. Beth hid in Maggie's arms, and Maggie's face looked unwell.
"They're just sick people!"
Hershel stubbornly insisted.
"Is that so? Do you think if you were bitten, you wouldn't bite your own daughter just because she's in front of you?"
Shawn raised an eyebrow, scoffing.
Life at the Farm was too comfortable; Hershel had seen too little, which was why he would foolishly say such things.
Of course, it could also be said that Shawn and Hershel had different 'beliefs'.
Hershel was still living in the pre-apocalypse world, while Shawn only trusted his own people and the massive hammer in his hand.
"If you're only here to threaten, then please leave!"