Dale looked at him in confusion.
"You think Randall is a poor soul forced by circumstances, a child who has lost his way."
Louis analyzed clearly, "But if he were truly as innocent as you think... then his popularity within that group wouldn't be very high."
"He knows the location of the camp, the guard rotations, and even how to use information to negotiate."
Louis looked into the distance, "A marginalized victim wouldn't know so many secrets, nor would they be sent out on such an important scouting mission."
"Only someone who has truly integrated into the group and enjoyed the protection and benefits it provides would know these things."
"He might not have killed anyone with his own hands, but he is certainly not an innocent bystander."
Dale's furrowed brow relaxed slightly, a hint of reflection flashing in his eyes.
"No matter the era, we cannot lose our moral baseline as human beings."
Louis changed the subject, his tone becoming exceptionally serious, "But times have changed, and the people we face have changed, so the standards of that 'baseline' must naturally change as well."
"If we use the same baseline to treat enemies who want to kill us as we do the companions who fight to protect us..."
Louis paused, saying each word deliberately:
"Then the standard itself is the greatest injustice to good people."
Dale opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to retort, but found himself unable to find any reason.
"Tolerance and understanding are not inherently wrong."
Louis looked into Dale's eyes and said the most crucial sentence, "But in this era, these things come with conditions."
"The condition is that we must have the ability to bear the consequences of a 'misjudgment'."
"If we let him go and our judgment is wrong, if he truly is a demon who brings people back to kill us, resulting in the deaths of Carl or Sophia..."
Louis looked straight at him and asked, "Can we bear those consequences?"
"Can you?"
Dale fell silent. He looked at Sophia in the distance, his body trembling slightly.
"We can't."
"But..." Dale's voice was raspy, "Rick said we can't go back..."
"He's right. The old world is dead; we can't go back."
Louis nodded, "But we still have a future. As long as we survive, there will come a day when we rebuild order and restore civilization."
"And to reach that future, we must always sacrifice something."
"Sacrifice what? Our humanity?" Dale asked in pain.
"No, it's sacrificing our right to only do 'the right thing'."
He looked at the old man and continued:
"In the past, we could afford to only do what was right and kind; that was a right granted to us by civilization. But in the apocalypse, such a perfect choice is too luxurious."
"To keep everyone alive, we sometimes have to give up that personal purity and do things that, while cruel, are necessary."
His tone was calm, yet it left Dale with no way to avoid it:
"Only when there are fewer people like Randall will those with true consciences have a better chance of surviving."
"If you let him go now, you might satisfy your own conscience."
"But how do you know he won't go on to harm other innocent people just to survive?"
"If he escapes and hurts others, whose sin will that be?"
Dale stared blankly at the child before him, seemingly moved.
"So, Rick dealing with him now isn't just for our sake."
Louis solemnly gave his final conclusion:
"It's even more for those innocent people who might die at his hands in the future."
"When the day comes that we are strong enough to no longer fear any threat, strong enough to allow for mistakes and oversee their correction..."
He smiled, a hint of hope for the future in his expression:
"Only then will we be qualified to talk about how to give an enemy a second chance."
...Night fell, and a dim yellow light glowed in the farm's kitchen.
When Dale entered with Louis, the group that had been talking in low voices fell silent instantly.
The air seemed to freeze as everyone looked at Dale somewhat awkwardly, their movements stopping as they didn't know how to break the tension.
Rick opened his mouth, seemingly wanting to explain something or apologize, but the words felt hollow before he could speak.
"Cough."
Finally, it was Hershel who broke the silence.
This equally stubborn farmer, who had also struggled between morality and survival, spoke up.
He didn't mention the day's topic, merely picking up an empty cup and gently pushing it toward the empty seat opposite him.
"Dale."
Hershel looked at him, his tone gentle: "While I don't advocate drinking... would you like a glass tonight?"
Dale looked at the cup on the table and was silent for a few seconds.
He didn't walk over immediately; instead, his gaze swept over everyone at the table—Rick, Shane, Andrea... Finally, he let out a very soft sigh.
"If it's that low-quality whiskey from last time, forget it."
Dale hung his hat on the rack and pulled out a chair to sit. The old man's face still bore a weariness from compromise, along with a sense of helplessness from trying to understand the current situation:
"Tonight... pour me something good."
A wave of suppressed, relieved chuckles rippled through the room.
Although the atmosphere was still a bit awkward, that suffocating tension finally dissolved at that moment.
Louis stood in the shadows nearby, leaning against the wall, quietly watching the scene with a slight curl of his lips.
He knew Dale hadn't completely let go.
This stubborn old man was still mourning the lost baseline of humanity.
But this time, facing the firm opposition of the whole group, coupled with the painful lesson of having kindly helped a woman who claimed to have been "robbed" only to be backstabbed, he finally stopped being so stubborn.
He was slowly forcing himself to accept the rules of this new world.
For this stubborn old man, this was already a remarkable improvement.
"Thank you."
Just as Louis was about to turn and leave, a soft voice suddenly sounded beside him.
Louis turned his head in confusion, finding that Amy had walked over at some point, holding two plates in her hands.
"Thank me for what?" Louis raised an eyebrow.
"I saw it." Amy smiled gently at him, her gaze shifting to Dale, who was clinking glasses with Hershel nearby. "This afternoon, I saw you talking to Dale by the fence."
"Even though I didn't hear what you said, I know it must be because of you that he was willing to come in and sit down."
Amy looked at Louis, a hint of gratitude in her eyes: "Thank you, Louis. This is very important to him... and to all of us."
"I didn't really say much; Grandpa Dale figured it out himself."
Louis smiled helplessly, not taking credit or explaining too much.
Watching Amy's back as she turned to distribute food, Louis shrugged mentally.
Actually, this was for the best. Although the old man's concepts hadn't fully "upgraded," and he still retained a sense of morality that seemed somewhat outdated in the apocalypse.
But once everyone settled down, this sense of morality would instead become an "anchor" to stabilize people's hearts.
A team can't be entirely composed of judges or warriors; there must be gentler people like Dale.
As long as he can control himself and doesn't show misplaced kindness at inappropriate times, keeping him in the team is actually more beneficial than harmful.
"Alright, the problem here is solved."
Louis breathed a small sigh of relief and, while no one was paying attention, turned and quietly left the bustling dining room, returning to the quiet guest room on the second floor.
Since the "people's hearts" had been pacified, it was now time for him to handle that more important matter.
He locked the door and dragged the heavy leather suitcase from the depths of his backpack.
After calming his emotions, Louis drew his wand.
"Let me see..."
He stared at the surface of the suitcase. "I wonder if this 'fuel' is enough to pry open this door of yours this time."