Who the hell could he even complain to about this?!

He goes out to clear a pack of elite mobs and ends up getting targeted by the big boss?!

Holy shit!

Everything was completely cooked... wait. Maybe not.

If they actually wanted to take out the camp, it wouldn't even be that hard. A few RPGs and the whole place would basically be GG.

And the summer harvest had already wrapped up with no sign of the GRE. Which meant the GRE didn't give a damn about them at all.

Thinking it through, the tension in Lin Feng's chest gradually eased.

Merle and the others had been watching Lin Feng's brow knit tight, expression cycling from pale to ashen and back again, until finally, like someone who'd just cheated death, Lin Feng let out a long breath. The whole performance left them all with the same suspicion:

Did this guy used to be an actor?

Because how does a normal person cycle through that many emotions in three seconds?

Crane caught it too, and immediately understood: Lin Feng knew far more than Crane had imagined.

"Lin, let's talk," Crane said. "Call it an intel exchange?"

Lin Feng rolled his eyes. "Exchange what? That the GRE calls itself a Global Relief Effort on the surface but doesn't do a single decent thing in practice?"

"...You already know all of it?"

"Enough. Otherwise they wouldn't have pulled a stunt like sending walkers on a revenge raid in the middle of the night."

Contra's eyes went wide, beard bristling. "Revenge?! That night raid was a revenge attack?!"

"Yeah. Because we wiped out the subjects this observation post was assigned to monitor."

Marcus blinked. "That lumber mill?"

Lin Feng nodded. "That's the one."

A chorus of "fucks" broke out across the cramped little campsite. The fiercest came from Crane and Contra, the two practically joining forces to curse out three generations of the GRE's entire family tree.

Daryl seemed to put something together. "So when you said someone was watching us before—that was real?"

Lin Feng shrugged. "No evidence, so I can't say for certain. But I'm not ruling it out."

The cursing paused for a beat.

Then it came back louder, because Daryl joined in.

Someone had been here, and Daryl hadn't found their tracks. To Daryl, that was a disgrace.

The cursing kept going, and at some point the group's eyes landed on the walkers tied to the trees. They shifted from words to action, beating on the bound walkers like they were GRE operatives.

Orion's gaze went distant. Looking at Lin Feng: "Then it seems we need to prepare considerably more."

Lin Feng grunted and sighed. This was going to be a headache.

There was an old saying: don't fear a thief breaking in, fear a thief with their eye on you. Even if the camp didn't have much worth coveting.

Petty scoundrels were hard to guard against. What if this observer had a mean streak and decided to start something?

Across town, the two observers currently on leave both sneezed without warning. Once, then again, then again.

"What the hell—did I catch a cold? I don't even have a fever."

"Probably from all that sea breeze yesterday. I told you to come back earlier and you wouldn't listen."

"Stop nagging. It's our last day. Don't go killing the mood."

"..."

Lin Feng and Orion crouched over the military map and began estimating. Setting this location aside, the nearest outpost was sixty miles to the southeast.

Lin Feng let out a breath at that, then something else seemed to click, and the finger went back to the map.

Oh.

That location. That was near the Prison.

And the nearest faction in that area...

Tsk. Quite the windfall, landing right on the Governor's head.

Orion read Lin Feng's expression. "What is it? Do we go take them out?"

Lin Feng shook his head, a faint smirk on his face. "No need. Someone else will handle it."

Orion nodded, glanced at the others who had just finished venting, and left it at that.

Better to let the anger out than keep it bottled. Keep it bottled long enough and things go sideways, and that would be a real problem.

Lin Feng folded the map away, glanced at Marcus and Jade, and nodded. "Alright. Let's head back. We might still make lunch."

The group retraced their steps down the slope.

Whether it was exhaustion, or the weight of knowing an organization like the GRE was now overhead, the atmosphere on the walk back had gone quiet. Nobody felt much like talking.

Lin Feng ran through it rationally. The odds of GRE retaliation were genuinely low, but that didn't mean they could skip the precautions.

The circular pillboxes needed to be bigger and thicker. He'd have to get the inventor trio thinking about blast mitigation: if a missile actually hit, how do you reduce the acoustic and concussive damage?

Camp firepower needed an upgrade too. They couldn't just sit there and take hits. Where to source heavy weapons?

A memory surfaced.

The CDC.

Right, the place that could vaporize a person painlessly in about half a second flat. The military had set up a perimeter defense there before everything went dark, which meant heavy machine guns were still on site. Rick and the others had seen them on the way in but never dismantled or hauled them away.

Worth asking Rick about. Maybe a run there was doable.

And ammunition: as long as they could recover shell casings from the site, the three-person inventor crew could probably work something out.

The shape of a plan clicked into place, and Lin Feng's head cleared.

Ahead on the trail, Daryl suddenly crouched, pressing a palm flat against the ground, measuring something.

When Daryl stood and turned around, the look on Daryl's face was odd.

"What's wrong?"

"Someone walked through here. Heading downstream toward the river. But something's weird."

Orion looked down at the prints, expression shifting. "Doesn't look like a chase. Doesn't look like an escape."

"That's exactly what's weird." Daryl looked up. Lin Feng had just caught up, and asked, "What's going on?"

Daryl ran through it again. Lin Feng crouched down to look.

The prints were fresh. And they were definitely strange.

The ones in the middle were on the smaller side. A woman, most likely.

The prints flanking her on both sides were larger, probably male, but the stride was short and uneven. Wrong, somehow. Not the way a person walks. More like walkers.

A lone figure flashed through Lin Feng's mind: sword on the back, moving with a quiet, self-contained pride. Had to be her. At this point in the timeline, she really was out here somewhere, wandering with her two guardians in tow.

Lin Feng's grin spread wide. "Now that's interesting. Come on—let's go see."

➤ Next: Rosita Is Watching!

Chapter 104 - Rosita Is Watching!

Toward evening, Shane led the parkour runners back with another truckload of cement.

Faces filthy, bodies grey with dust, mortar and sweat mixed together, sticky and stinging.

Rick tossed over a damp rag and tipped a chin upward.

Shane wiped both cheeks, then passed the cloth sideways to Leon without looking, gesturing for Leon to do the same. "Lin not back yet?"

Rick shook his head. "Walkie hasn't made a sound."

Shane swore. More and more, it felt like being conned into carrying someone else's tab.

Ever since the parkour runners showed up, Lin had declared all outside operations fell under Shane's authority, and from that moment on, Lin never touched the dirty work again, while Shane hadn't had a single easy day. Not one. If Shane wasn't out scavenging, Shane was on the road to go scavenging. Come back after a full day outside, eat dinner, rinse off, hit the tent, and pass out. At least before, there'd been the occasional mission. Now Lin didn't even bother bringing Shane along when it was time to fight. Living like a prize work animal. Fuck.

The corner of Rick's mouth tugged upward, then pressed flat. "Find some time for Carl. You are his godfather, after all."

Shane's irritation drained down a notch. A low grunt, and then Shane walked off without another word.

Rick watched the retreating figure, expression unreadable. Finally, a sigh. Then Rick turned and looked out toward the distance.

An SUV appeared on the horizon, headlights flashing twice, and rolled back into camp a short while later.

When Lin Feng's group climbed out, there was an extra figure among them, a katana across the back, hood pulled up, posture radiating cold indifference. Eyes moving across the camp, taking everything in, guarded and appraising at once.

"Who's this?"

Lin Feng's mouth curved. "Michonne. Took some serious effort just to get her here. Hasn't fully agreed to stay, either — could leave any time."

Rick looked at Michonne, gave a small nod, then turned back. "So what's the plan? Let her go wherever she wants? Shane's temper hasn't exactly been stable lately."

"I'll go talk to Shane. As for placement — put her in the camp's defense rotation for now. If she wants to ride out with a scavenging team, don't stop her."

Lin Feng added, "Oh, and let Dale know later — have Dale take her around for a look."

Michonne listened to the arrangements while scanning the camp.

The defenses were solid everywhere the eye landed. Mostly men in the population, but there were children.

Catching sight of three small figures playing under a distant oak tree, Michonne's expression eased, just slightly.

Kids moving around freely, playing without fear, that said something. Food stocks were holding, and the security was real.

"How did the map reconnaissance go? What was actually marked on it?"

Lin Feng hesitated a beat, then told Rick about the GRE.

Rick's brows pulled tight. "They could shatter the quiet we've built here?"

"There's nothing left in this area worth spending their resources to monitor. So the odds are low, but we still need to be ready."

Rick shifted stance, both hands settling on hips. "What are you thinking?"

"Heavy firepower. Explosives, heavy machine guns, RPGs, that kind of thing."

An image surfaced in Rick's memory, a military position, a few heavy machine guns sitting abandoned.

"I know where some are. Back near the CDC we visited, I saw a few M2 heavy machine guns the military left behind. They're monsters, though."

Lin Feng grinned. "Haven't you heard? Bigger weapon, better weapon."

Rick blinked, then the laugh slipped out before it could be stopped. "Yeah. Yeah, you're not wrong. So..."

"We go tomorrow. Even if they're nothing but scrap metal by now, I'm hauling them back. Get even one of those set up at our gate and what Volatile horde would give us trouble? Just open fire and be done with it."

Rick's laugh faded. "Eugene's crew has already cracked reloading, figured out how to repack spent casings. Problem is they're short on equipment and raw materials. Shane took people out for two days and still couldn't track everything down. If you're heading toward the CDC anyway, might be worth looking along the way."

Lin Feng raised an eyebrow.

Oh. A side quest.

"Sure. I'll go ask what they need, have them put together a list. I'll try to take a team out and sweep for it."

Rick nodded. If they could actually stand up an ammunition production line, nobody would have to risk lives over bullets anymore.

Back inside camp, Rick had a brief word with Dale. The old man smiled, that easy, unhurried smile, and nodded agreement, then looked over at Michonne and offered a gentle nod.

Something in Michonne shifted, just a little. The expression stayed cold. Michonne nodded back.

Nancy came over and held out a dinner plate, smile wide and uncomplicated. "If it's not enough, come back for more."

Michonne looked down at the pasta.

Paused.

Since the collapse, how long had it been since a hot meal? A month? Two? Time had ground down so slow it felt like years.

"Thank you." The first words spoken since arriving at the camp.

Nancy's smile didn't waver. The plate was pressed into Michonne's hands. "Go eat. Don't be shy."

Michonne took the plate and walked alone to the oak tree, settling down against the roots. Not eating yet, just watching. Gaze drifting to Lin Feng standing at the back of the dinner line, Beth beside him.

Strange. The camp's leader wasn't getting any special treatment. No reserved table, no separate food, just the same standard pasta and the same wait in line as everyone else.

Privilege had no seat here, apparently.

A commune-style survival. One big family...

Lin Feng and Beth sharing a meal was rare enough that Shane and the others quietly shifted their seats further away without being asked.

Watching that kind of secondhand sweetness was plenty.

Then, mid-meal, Lin Feng's field of view went dark as a figure dropped into the seat across: Maggie.

Amy and Andrea settled in on either side of Maggie a moment later.

Beth looked up and gave Maggie a bright smile.

Maggie's fork slowed. A brief acknowledgment, then Maggie's head went back down and the pasta demanded full attention.

Beth's smile flickered. Why did her sister look like she was trying to escape...

Could it be, Beth glanced at Lin Feng. Nothing unusual. Lin Feng was focused entirely on eating.

Not far off, Rosita's gaze moved with quiet intent, teeth resting light on the tines of a fork, the corner of a mouth lifting.

Maybe it was worth considering: nudge that hidden feeling Maggie had toward Lin Feng into the open, then sit back and watch the collision. Wait for the right moment to move.

Now. How exactly would that work...

Something felt off. Lin Feng picked up speed, finished in two bites, stood, grabbed clothes from the tent, and made straight for the makeshift shower.

Moving like someone running for their life.

➤ Next: Glenn's Transformation