The Walking Dead: Starting as a Cowboy

Chapter 162 Entanglement

They had witnessed Michonne's rampage, viciously biting off a person's ear.

A bloody mouth, fierce eyes, and an expression that was cold to the extreme.

That was enough to terrify those who bully the weak and fear the strong.

After that, they starved Michonne for several days until she had no strength left before they came in and beat her up.

Of course, they were terrified of Michonne. They didn't dare to deliver food to her for days, fearing they would end up like that unlucky fellow and lose their ears.

Michonne's will to resist was strong, yet at this moment she did not resist.

The group felt a great weight lifted from their hearts, and at the same time, they gripped the traps even tighter. If Michonne escaped this time, they would definitely not see the sun rise the next day.

Michonne stood with her hands behind her back, wearing dirty clothes that hadn't been changed in a long time, smelling awful and carrying a strong sour stench.

There were even a few mosquitoes flying around me.

Michonne stepped out of the cell, paused to look at the sky, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

Confined in a dark and sunless cell, she hadn't seen the sky in a long time. She ate, drank, and relieved herself in the cell, and she hadn't smelled fresh air from the outside world in a long time.

"Hurry up!"

Every two seconds Michonne stopped, the guard behind her roared and kicked her hard.

Staggering, Michonne regained her balance, her eyes burning with rage, her hands clenched tightly behind her back.

The sounds around me grew louder and louder, a restless energy permeated the air, and the excited shouts of the crowd made my blood boil.

Several men escorted Michonne to the arena.

Michonne's dark eyes swept across the scene: the flushed, fanatical crowd, the blustering but cowardly Shumpert, the governor with his arms crossed—

Michonne then fixed her gaze firmly on the governor.

Michonne's undisguised hostility was as conspicuous as a bright flame in the night. The governor looked over, smiled elegantly, and casually swiped his neck.

It's as if it's saying, "Today is your death day."

Originally, they planned to stay put and wait for Michonne's companions to come looking for them, so that Woodbury could have a good meal.

After waiting for so long, the governor had given up on this illusion. Perhaps it really was as Michonne said: she had no companions.

In that case, she has no value.

Ending her life with a bloody and brutal killing in the arena could also be considered a form of mercy.

The governor, moved by his own kindness, stepped forward, raised his hands high, and then lowered them slightly.

The frenzied crowd gradually quieted down.

The governor nodded in satisfaction, waved his hand, pointed to Michonne beside him, and explained with great enthusiasm.

"Next up is Miss Michonne."

"This Miss Michonne, you may not know her, is the one who killed Tom and John a few months ago."

The atmosphere suddenly turned cold, and malicious gazes fell on Michonne, the unbridled malice making her face grow even colder.

Then, a beer bottle smashed out and landed in front of Michonne, with shards of glass hitting her legs.

"You bitch, kill her!"

"Kill her, tear off her arms, break her legs."

"Feed the zombies, feed the zombies."

"Kill her, you damn bitch!"

"————"

The crowd erupted in excitement, like a hot oil pan that exploded instantly when a drop of water was poured in.

A barrage of foul language poured out, and the guards behind Michonne took several steps back to avoid being hit by small objects.

Michonne stood straight, her murderous gaze unable to quell the malice of the crowd.

The governor smiled, his eyes full of mockery.

He was thoroughly enjoying this moment. This was his Woodbury, his own little kingdom, where he could control the goodwill and malice of the crowd with just a few words.

This feeling of control is wonderful.

When the governor saw a resident with a flushed face who was clearly out of control, picking up a wrench to throw, the governor immediately stopped him.

"Based on humanitarian principles, I think we should give Miss Michonne a chance to make amends. This is our most basic compassion as human beings, not for any other reason than the goodness in our hearts."

The governor looked compassionate, his eyes gleaming as if filled with heartache for Michonne's misguided path.

The governor's acting was so good that it captivated the crowd. Even the residents who were about to use wrenches and other weapons to severely injure Michonne were persuaded by their companions to sit down.

"Miss Michonne."

The governor stepped forward, stepping over the cold corpses of the zombies on the ground, his feet treading on black blood, and walked up to Michonne. "I'm willing to give you a chance to live."

"That is, kill him, or be killed by him." The governor turned slightly to reveal Shumpert standing in the middle of the arena.

Shumpert's dark, tall body stood like a black iron tower, while Michonne looked like a little chick standing in front of him.

Extreme physical differences always evoke a sense of excitement about the brutal actions and torture that are about to take place.

While Michonne was sizing up Shumpert, the governor casually remarked, "Would you like to give it a try?"

The governor never considered that Michonne would refuse.

After all, it was their only chance to survive; there were no other options.

Michonne didn't even bother to glance at the governor, and strode toward the center of the arena.

At the governor's glance, the guards behind him loosened the traps and handcuffs.

Michonne's wrists, which had been bound for a long time, were bluish-purple. She rubbed her numb hands and feet, stepped over the zombie corpses, and stood in front of Shumpert.

The two stood on opposite sides of the arena, their eyes meeting.

"Michonne, I've heard about your exploits in the prison cell." Shumpert rarely smiled; his expression was cold and stern, and his exaggerated muscles bulged slightly.

Michonne did not answer, but glanced at the surroundings of the arena and the situation in the audience seats out of the corner of her eye.

Upon seeing her step into the arena, she was bombarded with all sorts of ridicule and mockery.

Meanwhile, the people around the arena all picked up guns, their muzzles pointed at her, intentionally or unintentionally.

Michonne's attention returned to Shumpert; there was no escaping, only a desperate fight.

Shumpert also sensed Michonne's rising fighting spirit, so he leaned down, clenched his fists under his chin, and slightly raised his toes.

He beckoned with his right hand, "Come on, we have no other choice."

Not only Michonne's fate, but also Shumpert's fate was pushed into the arena of destiny by the Governor.

Shumpert felt a chill in his heart, but he had no other choice.

Michonne immediately responded to Shumpert's provocation, striding forward as if she were about to confront Shumpert head-on.

Shumpert instantly became suspicious and quickly took two steps back, distancing himself from Michonne.