Louis fell silent; he was a bit moved, but also found it a bit ridiculous.
He had to admit, the image he had cultivated before was probably too successful.
To the point that now, these kind people subconsciously imagined him as someone willing to sacrifice himself to save everyone.
In fact, he planned to go on a killing spree this time; why did everyone think he was going to his death?
However... Miranda's words reminded him.
Louis was used to evaluating risks and rewards with a Wizard's mindset, but he had overlooked the weight of this "omnipotence" in the eyes of others.
He couldn't let the team get used to "Louis descending from the sky to solve everything." If they all took it for granted that he was omnipotent, that would be the real danger.
Miranda's proposal might also have some benefits.
A "broken mother looking for her daughter" going undercover; this identity was indeed very convincing. If she could successfully blend in, it would also be more convenient for him, the "ghost" acting in the shadows.
Thinking of this, Louis silently adjusted his assassination plan.
And so, Hershel watched helplessly as these survivors, in just a few words, quickly formulated a crazy rescue plan centered around this mere eleven-year-old child.
For a moment, he didn't know if he hadn't explained the dangers clearly enough to them.
"You guys..." Hershel opened his mouth, wanting to stop them, but seeing the fire of revenge in Glenn and Louis's eyes and the desperate determination in Miranda's, he swallowed his words.
Finally, Dale sighed, patted Hershel's shoulder, and shook his head at him.
He turned to the crowd and asked, "Is there anything I can do?"
A hint of gratitude appeared on Miranda's tense face: "Please help me take care of the children!"
Louis added, "And Andrea and Amy; one just had a blood transfusion, and the other is still recovering from a serious injury. They are both very weak and need someone to look after them."
Louis looked up at the sky; it was already late at night.
"Everyone rest tonight," he made a decision. "All plans will start tomorrow during the day."
This was also unavoidable.
After all, everyone today had experienced ambushes, vehicle crashes, escapes, and serious injuries; they were already exhausted.
Including himself, even if his consumption hadn't reached the limit, the continuous mental tension and physical overexertion made him feel weary.
He couldn't have someone drive him straight to The Factory now and then take risky action.
Louis really wanted revenge quickly and hoped to rescue his companions as soon as possible, but all of this had to be based on the premise that his life was guaranteed.
Although everything happening now had already exceeded the plot's limits, Louis couldn't guarantee whether Rick and the others' protagonist halos could survive tonight.
But no matter what, he couldn't risk his own life.
"However..." Louis's eyes flickered in the dark, "Since that Shepherd is shouting about some 'judgment' instead of killing people on the spot, then this so-called 'judgment' likely has a certain process."
They still had time.
Louis wasn't blindly confident. Along the way, he had gained a deep understanding of the team's growth and strength.
Just as his ultimate goal this time was "killing people and taking The Factory" rather than "saving people and running away," he also had confidence in Rick's team.
They were resilient, experienced in combat, and determined. Their flaw wasn't in their strength, but in their sometimes ill-timed compassion.
But now, facing a group of inhuman Believers, once that layer of "civilization" was completely torn away... Louis believed that with just Rick and Shane's ruthlessness, they wouldn't fall there so easily.
"I will do everything I can to help create conditions for them," he whispered.
"As for whether they can survive until the moment we get there..."
"That will depend on themselves."
...Merle narrowed his eyes, looking at the staggering "Judge" walking toward him.
Ironically, that Walker was still wearing a tattered nun's uniform, with a broken crucifix hanging around its neck.
"Ha..." Merle pulled a grimacing smile and spat a mouthful of bloody saliva on the ground.
Fucking brilliant. A nun.
He knew very well in his heart that he would likely meet his end here today.
All sorts of shitty things from before the apocalypse flashed through his mind—
His alcoholic father's swinging belt and hideous face; that bullshit sergeant in the army whose five teeth he had knocked out... he knew he was a bastard, trash, a piece of junk who couldn't even protect his own younger brother.
This day would come sooner or later.
Dying in prison, dying on drugs, or dying in some unknown gutter... now, dying under a Walker's mouth didn't seem much different.
The Walker nun walked toward him step by step, meeting everyone's gaze. The surrounding shouts of "judgment" grew louder and louder, like a grand carnival.
Judgment.
For a moment, the atmosphere on the scene even gave him an illusion.
Maybe this really was a judgment.
He could feel that since the apocalypse, he and his brother had always been outsiders in this team.
Dammit!
Rick, that 'Friendly Cop', and Shane, that damn stubborn cop, the way they looked at him was no different from looking at a piece of dog shit that had to be disposed of.
Even if he died, probably no one would care about his life or death except for that somewhat eerie and ridiculously naive blonde kid.
Speaking of which... damn it, why did he subconsciously protect that kid?
Perhaps because the way that kid looked at him wasn't filled with disgust like the others.
Or perhaps... Merle's thoughts suddenly sank, thinking of his own terrible childhood.
He thought of how he had once been like that, protecting Daryl like a real big brother, shouting "Run!" at him under his father's fists.
But so what?
In the end, he had still left him and run away alone.
If he died, Daryl wouldn't have to carry him as a burden anymore.
Without the drag of a brother like him, Daryl would be much more popular than he was now and live more like a human being; that would be fine too.
Merle closed his eyes as if accepting his fate, the last thing flashing through his mind being his brother's perpetually grumpy face.
"Fuck, Daryl, your big brother this time... really can't fucking protect you anymore..."
The Walker nun was only a few steps away from him.
Its blackened fingers with missing nails slowly rose, about to grab Merle's shoulder. That large mouth with only half a lip left suddenly opened, revealing black-yellow gums, about to bite his neck!
"No—!!"
Daryl didn't want to look anymore, but he still forced his eyes wide open, as if to firmly engrave this scene in his heart.
But at this critical moment, Merle suddenly snapped his eyes open!
The touch of death was so cold, so real... but also so familiar.
The memory of that damn Atlanta rooftop a few days ago suddenly surfaced in his mind.
That time, he was handcuffed to a pipe with metal handcuffs, alone, facing the surging horde of Walkers.
Just as desperate as now.
At that time, he had even picked up a saw, prepared to saw off his own hand... if God, or some bullshit fate, really wanted him to die, why didn't He let him die then?
Why... why did that blonde kid named Louis suddenly appear like a fucking hallucination at that exact moment?
An indescribable anger at being fooled exploded from his heart!
If all of this was predestined, then why send that kid to save him?!
Just so I could work hard to survive, only to die at the hands of these idiots whose brains are stuffed with dog shit?!
To die under their ridiculous "judgment"?!
Judgment?
Merle looked at the decaying face close at hand, then glanced at The Shepherd on the high platform who was feigning pity.
You motherfuckers... are you even worthy of judging me?!
"Fuck you!!!"