It’s a strange invasion, is it okay for me to fight back?

Chapter 630 Chords are Essential
On the construction site, tower cranes stood tall, and the poet sat at the very front of the crane's boom. Rain soaked him to the bone, but he only felt a sense of exhilaration.

The area below the tower crane was filled with noise and shouts.

The number of infected people is increasing. At first, there were only a few hundred people, but now the number has exceeded three thousand.

Moreover, the numbers are still growing, with infected people constantly pouring in from refugee camps to join this emotion-driven riot. The poet predicts that the final scale may reach tens of thousands.

He watched the frenzied crowd below with great interest, thinking that only a scene like this would be interesting. Back in the Gruu mining area, he had spent a lot of time training the local survivors, but the place was too desolate and few people visited.

The poet shook off the rain and stood up in a cheerful mood.

The horizontal steel beams were slippery from the rain, and the poet displayed an unusual ability to balance, swaying as he raised his arms, striking a pose as if conducting a symphony orchestra—

He waved the non-existent baton to the right and said, "This side, be angry."

Then he waved his finger to the left, saying, "This side is hopeless."

With both hands extended forward, he cried out, "And this side, you must hate!"

The infected below roared and charged at the oncoming convoy with reckless abandon!

They all went berserk, refusing to back down even when run over by cars. They smashed vehicles with bricks, shovels, and other tools from the construction site, even scratching them with their fingernails and banging their heads against them. Their behavior was almost inhuman!
The team members in the vehicle were somewhat stunned. Seeing the usually listless refugees now acting like zombies, they were inevitably panicked for a moment. Fortunately, they had all undergone rigorous training and immediately adjusted their mindset and entered combat mode.

Some people picked up guns, while others activated cards.

Soon, the refugees surrounding the vehicles began to fall in droves! If each vehicle is considered a flower stamen, then the refugees are the blooming petals, the blood-stained petals.

This was a massacre with a vast disparity in strength.

The poet watched with great interest from above.

Just as he was enjoying himself, he suddenly heard a discordant sound in the singing. Looking in the direction of the sound, he saw a member of the patrol team shouting at the refugees:
"Don't come any closer! Don't come any closer! You'll die! You'll all die!!!"

The team members' faces were still somewhat youthful, and their hands holding the guns trembled constantly, clearly shocked by the bloodshed at the scene.

Killing someone is ultimately different from killing a contaminated organism.

"They don't need your pity." The poet flicked his fingers, and a string of notes flowed out, flying towards the team member. "You should hate them too, hate these refugees, hate these... genetically inferior beings..."

The poet spoke slowly, his expression turning somber, his eyes filled with resentment, his voice so soft it was almost a whisper: "Don't put on this saintly act of mourning life. I don't believe your genes are any nobler. We're all the same, all the same... All life is equally base, equally selfish. Either you kill me, or I kill you. This is a predetermined fate."

The musical notes surrounded the team members' bodies, their translucent color remaining unchanged.

A sinister glint flashed in the poet's eyes.

His music cannot create non-existent emotions out of thin air; it can only draw out the full extent of existing emotions from a small amount. For example, the fatal elegy he released for Ling Feiran was effective immediately because Ling Feiran had indeed had suicidal thoughts deep in her heart.

The musical notes on the team member's body did not change color because the team member had no ill will towards the refugees.

In the past, when poets encountered this situation, they would patiently continue to use music to guide the soul, and in just ten days or half a month, even the most flawless soul could be stained black.

But now, he has no patience and no time.

"Can't you hate him? Because not enough blood has been shed..." The poet sneered, raising his hand again to manipulate the invisible baton.

The refugees, one by one, viciously attacked the patrol team, ignoring the corpses already strewn across the ground.

Many team members were devastated!
"Why?! Why aren't these refugees afraid?! Why are they still rushing forward?! Have they already become contaminated?!"

In the pitch-black torrential rain, a gigantic monster suddenly appeared! Its lower limbs were extremely robust, and its upper body had seven or eight arms and more than a dozen heads! Its powerful body rammed into the ground like a tank, overturning an armored vehicle!
The team members inside the vehicle were immediately trapped, while the team members in the other vehicles hurriedly fired at the monster to buy time for their teammates to escape.

"Pashan, well done." The poet's lips curled up, and his eyes revealed admiration.

A monster appeared in the chaos, and the patrol's last shred of mercy towards the refugees vanished.

"Kill it!"

"Kill this contaminant!"

"kill!!!"

Two figures suddenly swelled up from the convoy. Although they were not as big as the Hundred-Armed Giant, they were clearly using their second form, and their attack power increased several times over!
The poet, watching from above, was satisfied with the unreserved killing intent displayed by both sides.

However, he was destined not to be able to enjoy this battle for long, because compared with the well-trained team members, Pashan was too weak. Not only did he have no fighting skills, but he also only had one card in his body. Transforming into a giant was already his limit. He could only last for less than two minutes before his body began to shrink—a sign that he was running out of energy.

The poet didn't feel sorry for him; he never intended for Pashan to live.

He just wanted the killing to continue a little longer.

"Don't worry, your help is almost here," the poet said, gazing into the distance and raising his baton. "Music needs chords to be truly beautiful—"

A string of musical notes flowed into the air, swirling and drifting, before silently disappearing into the rain a few seconds later.

The poet frowned slightly, and his fingers began to dance again.

The notes flowed out again, but still there was no response.

"Where are my chords?" the poet asked, puzzled.

He didn't get the chords he was waiting for; instead, he received more reinforcements from the quarantine zone, as well as Pei Xianjue's convoy.

The car headlights stood out starkly against the dark, heavy rain.

The poet watched coldly, feeling extremely disappointed, and muttered, "These refugees are still too weak."

Even with a large number of people, it would be like throwing an egg against a rock when facing the regular army in the quarantine zone.

The nurses in the inpatient ward are different; they're all a bunch of overly compassionate fools. If an outbreak of infections suddenly occurs, they'll definitely catch them off guard.

But why didn't his chords work?

The poet thought to himself: Something's not right, I need to go back to the inpatient ward.

He swung out a thin, almost invisible steel wire, one end of which was connected to the tower crane, and the other end to a high-rise building hundreds of meters away.

The poet stepped onto the thin steel wire, his movements as leisurely as if he were taking a stroll home.

His figure quickly disappeared into the rain.

On the other hand, after arriving near the Iron Curtain construction site by car, Baozi immediately noticed the overwhelming negative emotions.

Huangfu Miaomiao, who was in the car, was equally shocked. She stared wide-eyed and said, "My God, why are there so many musical notes floating in front of us? I didn't eat any mushrooms!"

(End of this chapter)