'It's the Wolves!'
Shawn couldn't be mistaken, because their emblem was too obvious.
Every member of the Wolves would write this letter on their forehead, or even carve it directly with a knife.
This was a declaration of ownership, and also an identifier, meant to instill panic in those who saw it, letting them know that the Wolves had arrived.
The Wolves were an organization composed of wanderers, always lurking near discovered survivor Camps.
As long as there was an opportunity to plunder, they would never give it up.
Upon conquering a Camp, they would disembowel the survivors, and those still alive would be chained up and paraded around like dogs.
They would also leave the words 'wolves not far' at the original site, indicating 'the pack is not far away'.
They were a group of plunderers with savage, cruel, and tyrannical methods.
When they conquered a survivor Camp, they would leave after taking all valuable people and resources, letting the Camp fall into disuse.
That's right, they just liked to destroy, which is why they made enemies everywhere.
Shawn's gaze turned to the group on the right who were fighting the Wolves, and when he saw their faces clearly, he couldn't help but raise his eyebrows.
Pale skin, black dog-collar-like neck rings, increasingly frenzied fighting style...
Everything indicated that the group on the right were the companions of those fanatical survivors Shawn had eliminated before.
'Could it be that Columbus was exposed?'
This was Shawn's first thought.
Columbus himself had said that he had felt followed multiple times.
But the next second, Shawn dismissed that thought.
The two groups Columbus encountered in Tennessee were shaken off by him, and it wasn't until Columbus approached Alexandria City that he felt followed again.
The Zealots were most active in North Carolina, so it shouldn't be them.
"Doesn't that mean the last ones to follow Columbus were the Wolves?"
"But how did those Zealots follow? Could they have been following the Wolves?"
"Did they mistake the Wolves for people from Alexandria?"
Shawn's mouth twitched, feeling like he was gradually getting to the bottom of things.
The Zealots from North Carolina were targeting him and his group.
The Wolves, on the other hand, indiscriminately attacked and plundered survivors; their initial target was Alexandria.
They just didn't expect that when they attacked that night, these two groups would start fighting outside the gates.
"What a pair of lunatics," Shawn cursed.
Normal people would retreat immediately if their sneak attack was exposed, but these guys were crazier than the last, actually starting a fight without panicking.
Then Shawn's lips curled up again: "Isn't this an opportunity for us to strike?"
Night, jungle, pitch black...
These keywords seemed to exist specifically for Shawn.
Shawn nodded to Daryl, then gradually disappeared into the darkness.
Aaron and Heath, who had followed behind, watched this scene with confusion.
Before they could ask, Daryl just shook his head, signaling them to wait quietly.
Daryl wasn't worried about Shawn's safety at all; the fact that Shawn had gone to Woodbury, killed people, and still managed to retreat unharmed by himself, already proved Shawn's capabilities.
Now he just needed to ensure that the two people following him didn't mess things up, and let Shawn do his thing.
In the jungle, Shawn slowly approached a survivor who was crouching to reload.
As he walked, he pulled out his 2.1-meter-long greatsword from behind him and held it in a reverse grip.
The survivor had just reloaded his gun when he heard a sticky sound by his ear.
He looked down at his chest in disbelief; a blade tip was protruding from his back.
The gun in his hand dropped, caught by a hand that suddenly reached out.
Before he could turn around to see the person behind him, the greatsword flashed with a cold light and sliced his skull directly in half.
'First one.'
Shawn muttered to himself.
As time passed, the battle between the two forces became very clear.
The Zealots were not afraid of death at all, so they engaged in suicidal charges throughout, eliminating many of the Wolves, but also suffering heavy casualties themselves.
Shawn seized the opportunity; after the Wolves eliminated the Zealots, he would sneak over and eliminate the Wolves.
The gunshots attracted many Walkers. One of the Wolves, after being bitten, quickly tied off his forearm, wanting the person next to him to help chop it off to stop the virus from spreading.
But the next second, the body of the person who had just been standing next to him suddenly swayed twice, and a pool of hot blood splattered into his palm.
He looked up, only to meet a greatsword swinging down fiercely.
The greatsword instantly plunged into the center of his skull, splitting his face into two parts, and slowly withdrew.
"The 12th and 13th."
Shawn exhaled; this time, with both sides distracting each other, it was much easier for Shawn to harvest.
With the 'stalker suit' and skill buffs, he encountered no resistance throughout, mostly finishing them off with a single strike.
Counting the time from Shawn's reaction to arriving at the Community entrance, it was only about ten minutes, but the number of people on both sides had already been reduced to one-third, with Shawn keeping their numbers at the same level.
So, even now, both forces were still evenly matched.
However, compared to the Zealots, many of the Wolves members had already begun to consider retreating.
They came here to raid Alexandria at night, but they failed to plunder Alexandria, and instead, most of the people they brought were lost here.
The gains were not equal to the pay, and the benefits were uneven; there was no need for this war to continue.
But the moment someone began to slowly retreat, an arrow accompanied by a few bullets shot out from the nearby bushes.
In front of them were the Zealots, charging forward fearlessly.
Behind them, Shawn was hidden in the darkness, holding his knife in a reverse grip, watching them coldly.
The Wolves were hard-pressed, caught in the middle, unable to advance or retreat.
Not to mention there were two or three Walkers approaching from the west; the Wolves had been forced into a dead end.
"Good, good, this is how the script should be written. After taking care of the Wolves, it'll be the turn of those lunatics from North Carolina."
Shawn saw the remaining Wolves constantly dwindling in numbers and couldn't help but secretly cheer.
They were a relatively active raider organization in the mid-stage of the original plot, but he never expected them to be left in this forest so early on.
Shawn's side was responsible for harvesting the Wolves members who were panicking and stumbling into their path.
After cutting down one person, Shawn suddenly sighed with emotion.
Even he hadn't expected that one day he would team up with this group of relentless lunatics to kill enemies.
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