Jim's crazed prophecy, like a cold curse, echoed through the deathly silent workshop.
The commotion among the believers came to a halt; they looked in terror at this captive who had suddenly "gone mad," then looked uneasily toward the high platform.
Merle's violence had subverted their ritual. Rick's proclamation had shaken their justice. Jim's prophecy struck directly at their faith.
The guards gripped their guns, momentarily unsure whether to suppress the captives first or wait for the Shepherd's instructions.
Under the searchlights, the Shepherd on the high platform finally made a move.
Facing the total loss of control over the "judgment" and Merle's bloody defiance, his face showed not a trace of anger, but instead revealed an expression bordering on pity.
He slowly raised his hand, a simple gesture that made all the restless guards stop their movements.
Next, he walked down the high platform and stopped at a distance from Merle that was both safe and full of oppressive pressure.
"Clap... clap... clap..."
He actually began to clap softly.
The crisp sound of clapping seemed incredibly eerie in the hollow factory.
The Shepherd showed no panic; he spoke again, his calm and magnetic voice reaching every corner: "Look! My children!"
The believers looked up in confusion at their sole leader.
"Are you wondering? Are you wavering?" The Shepherd's voice carried a power that soothed the heart. "You are thinking, why would a man deep in sin, a man who blasphemed God, pass the Trial of the Lost?"
He slowly raised his hand, pointing at the remains of the walker nun on the ground—more accurately, at that bloodstained glass shard.
"Because, this is precisely God's test! It is a test for all of us!"
The Shepherd's voice suddenly rose, filled with fanatical infectiousness!
"God deliberately left a 'loophole'! A spark of life that a mortal could almost never discover!"
"He is testing us!" He scanned his believers. "He is watching to see if we are merely executioners who only know how to follow cold rituals, or if we can see through to the true mercy behind Him!"
"This sinner," he pointed at Merle, "he seized that one-in-ten-thousand chance for life granted to him by God! He used his own blood and will to move the Lost!"
The Shepherd spread his arms, his expression intoxicated.
"Even for one bearing such sin, God is willing to grant him a chance at redemption!"
"This is precisely the supreme benevolence of God!!"
This sophistry, like a potent sedative, instantly smoothed over all the doubts and fears of the believers.
In just a few seconds, their confusion transformed into a more surging, more fanatical faith!
"A miracle! This is a miracle!"
"God is merciful!!"
"The Shepherd saw through it all! He saw through God's will!"
Cheers and prayers resounded through the factory once more, even more terrifying than the wave of sound during the "judgment" just moments ago.
Rick's heart sank completely to the bottom.
This Shepherd was an extremely terrifying lunatic.
Though he didn't know how he did it, there was no doubt that the Shepherd's words carried incomparable weight among this group of believers; they could not be shaken by a few words from the captives.
The Shepherd watched all this with satisfaction and raised his hand to suppress the cheering.
"Take the sinners down." His voice returned to calmness. "Though God is merciful, the judgment shall continue. They must use labor to wash away their sins."
"Yes!!"
The guards, as if granted a great reprieve, immediately rushed forward fiercely.
Merle's outburst just now had left them with lingering fears, and their movements now were exceptionally crude as they dragged the captives up from the ground at will.
"No! Don't touch him!"
A guard tried to roughly snatch Carl from Lori's arms.
"Get back!" Rick suddenly distorted his body, slamming into that guard hard with his shoulder!
"Bang!"
Another guard unhesitatingly smashed a fist into his face, then kicked him to the ground.
"Dad!" Carl let out a terrified scream.
"Rick!" Shane tried to move forward to stop it, struggling crazily, but was pinned down by even more guards.
"Stop!"
A cold female voice halted the guards' impending further attacks.
Maggie walked over quickly, scanning the few fierce-looking guards with a frown: "The Shepherd only said to take them down, he didn't tell you to cripple them."
The guards exchanged glances and resentfully put away their weapons.
Maggie walked up to the fallen Rick, looking down at him with a voice that held no warmth: "Don't resist, come with me."
Rick gritted his teeth and, amidst the angry curses of Shane and Daryl, was forcibly hauled up by the guards.
The team was being forcibly separated.
"No! You can't do this!" Lori watched in despair as Rick was dragged in another direction.
A certain dark and damp room.
Rick, Shane, Daryl, and the others were roughly pushed into this dungeon made of large storage cages that reeked of a foul stench.
"Get in there, hero." A guard mockingly shoved Merle, pushing him into an adjacent, smaller, and filthier independent cage.
Because of his feat just now, Merle received this "special treatment."
The guards locked the main gate, and the sound of footsteps gradually faded away.
"Wait!"
At the very last moment before Maggie turned to leave, Rick held onto the iron bars and called out to her in a low voice.
Maggie's footsteps paused, and she stopped in the shadows.
"Why did you help us?" Rick stared intently at her back.
Maggie did not turn around; her voice was as cold as the air in this place: "I wasn't helping you."
"I was only helping myself."
She turned and left without looking back.
The moment she walked out of the prison and turned into the dark corridor, Maggie clenched her fists, her nails digging deep into her palms.
The image of her father Hershel's face flashed through her mind, the face full of humiliation and helplessness when he was forced to hand over supplies.
Then she thought of that Shepherd a few days ago during the "blessing," the suggestive way he touched her cheek, and the disgusting request that made her stomach churn.
Her time was running out.
If she wanted to deal with this group of damned believers, relying solely on her and her brother, who was still being kept in the dark, was far from enough.
Perhaps...
She glanced back at that tightly closed iron door.
Perhaps this bunch of tough nuts, who had taken out Martin before and dared to resist the "judgment" in public, were the most suitable helpers she had been waiting for...
The morning mist had not yet dissipated when a stolen sedan stopped silently at a street corner on the outskirts of the nursing home.
Louis and Glenn cut the engine and, using abandoned vehicles as cover, crept toward that familiar building.
"Something's wrong." Glenn lowered his voice.
The gates of the nursing home were tightly shut, but the sound of a heated argument was coming from inside.
The two exchanged a look and tacitly gave up on the front entrance.
Glenn led Louis, expertly circling to the side of the building where there was a break in the fence—the very passage they had noted when they left last time.
The two flipped inside soundlessly and quickly pressed themselves against the shadows of the building.
In the courtyard, the atmosphere was thick with tension.
Guillermo and his group were being suppressed by a small squad of fully armed individuals.
There were about five or six of them, well-equipped, led by a man with a buzz cut whose eyes flashed with a fierce light.
At this moment, he was prodding Guillermo's forehead with the muzzle of a handgun, forcing him to bow his head.
"Guillermo!" The leader's voice was very impatient. "The Shepherd's patience is limited! I'm asking one last time, where is the 'offering'?"