Courtyard House: I fish in the heavens, a professional bird abuser.

After the seedlings sprouted, the atmosphere at the campsite visibly relaxed.

With the hope of food, people's hearts are less anxious.

Even those people who used to always have gloomy faces have started to smile occasionally these past few days.

But He Yuanchao knew that things were more likely to go wrong at times like these.

People are easier to manage when they are in despair—because everyone knows that only by banding together can they survive.

But once things get a little better, their minds start to wander.

Is your spot better than mine?

Do you eat more than I do?

By what right do you order me around?

These problems could bankrupt a company before the apocalypse, and could kill a group of people during the apocalypse.

He Yuanchao was mentally prepared for this.

He had seen too many similar situations in the world of "Bright Sword"—after a victory, some soldiers would become arrogant, feeling that they deserved special treatment because of their merits. Political Commissar Zhao Gang had spent countless hours trying to suppress this tendency.

But He Yuanchao is not Zhao Gang.

He is not good at ideological work.

What he excels at is making disobedient people see the consequences of their disobedience.

Howard was the one who started to disobey.

After being publicly reprimanded by He Yuanchao on the first day of training, the former accountant appeared much more obedient.

But only on the surface.

Deep down, he still had that "I'm a civilized person with higher education, what right do you peasants have to tell me what to do?" attitude.

He began to make connections in secret.

The target was those who disagreed with He Yuanchao's "dictatorial management".

Former lawyer Martin was the first person he recruited.

Martin, in his early forties, wore wire-rimmed glasses and spoke slowly and deliberately. He used to run a small law firm in Raccoon City. Although he survived the apocalypse, he never quite adapted—he was used to a lifestyle where everything was governed by rules, procedures, and regulations.

In his view, He Yuanchao's management style was blatant dictatorship.

"He made all the decisions by himself. The allocation of supplies, the arrangement of personnel, military operations—it was all up to him. There wasn't even a voting process."

Martin said this at an evening "private party".

The gathering took place in the shack furthest from the camp.

There were only four participants—Howard, Martin, and two young male survivors, one named Derek and the other named Kenny.

Derek used to be a deliveryman. He was in his early twenties, had a bad temper, and thought He Yuanchao's training was too tough.

Kenny is a college student, only nineteen years old. This apocalypse has completely shattered his worldview, and now he believes whatever anyone says.

Howard sat in the corner of the shack, his gold-rimmed glasses reflecting the moonlight streaming in from outside.

"I'm not saying He Yuanchao did anything wrong." His voice was low and his speech slow, as if he were giving a carefully prepared speech. "He saved our lives. He planted crops. He formed patrol teams. I acknowledge all of that."

"But the question is—on what grounds?"

"Why are all the guns in the hands of people he designated? Why does he have the sole say in the distribution of supplies? Why can't we know exactly how much stuff he brought out of that laboratory?"

"His 'medical room'—who's ever been inside? Nobody's. What on earth is he doing in there?"

Martin adjusted his glasses and continued the conversation.

"From a legal perspective—although there are no laws now—leadership of a group should be determined through democratic elections, not by a person assuming it through force."

"What is the basis of He Yuanchao's power? It's his guns and fists. How is that different from a warlord?"

"We should establish a committee. All adults should vote to elect the committee members. The committee should then decide on major matters."

Derek muttered from the side, "Running five kilometers every day is fucking exhausting..."

Kenny huddled in the corner, not saying a word but nodding frequently.

Howard crossed his fingers on his knees and lowered his voice.

"No need to rush. Wait for an opportunity."

"What opportunity?"

"When he leaves the camp, he can't stay here forever. When he goes out to scavenge for supplies or fight zombies, we'll lay everything out on the table and let everyone vote."

"What if everyone supports him?" Martin asked.

Howard's lips curled into a slight smile.

"Then let everyone see—he's not some savior. He's just a dictator."

These words were spoken with great passion and righteous indignation.

If this speech were given in a company conference room before the apocalypse, it would probably be met with applause.

But this is the end times.

It is a world where you can be devoured to the bone if you are not careful.

To establish a "democratic committee" in such a world—

He Yuanchao almost burst out laughing when he heard the news.

The news was given to him by Payton.

Although Payton has difficulty walking, his hearing is exceptionally sharp. Moreover, as a former police officer, he has a natural instinct for suspicious behavior.

Although Howard and his friends kept their voices down during their private conversation that night, the walls of the shack were made of pine planks, so the soundproofing was practically zero.

Payton lives next door.

"Boss, should I arrest them first?" Payton's expression was somewhat grave.

He Yuanchao shook his head.

"No need. Let them make a scene."

"But--"

"Howard alone can't turn the world upside down. He has neither guns nor people's hearts. The guys around him—Martin is a bookworm who talks a good game, Derek is a lazy bum who can't take hard work, and Kenny is just a kid who could be blown away by the wind."

He Yuanchao took out a hard candy he had found in Songgu Town from his pocket, unwrapped it, and put it in his mouth.

"But there's one thing to do."

"What is it?"

He Yuanchao chewed on the candy, his voice muffled.

"Put away all the core weapons and ammunition. Leave only hunting rifles and basic equipment in the camp. Assault rifles, grenades, and the like, put them all in my 'safe'."

Peyton knew that the so-called "safe" was He Yuanchao's all-powerful pocket—he never asked how big the pocket was, because the answer might be beyond his comprehension.

"clear."

He Yuanchao crumpled the candy wrapper into a ball and threw it into the campfire.

The flames licked the paper and hissed as they turned to ashes.

"Also, tell Alice to keep an eye on Howard. She doesn't need to do anything, just keep an eye on him."

Payton nodded and limped away.

He Yuanchao leaned against the wall of the wooden house, looking up at the stars in the sky.

Alice walked over at some point.

She leaned against another pillar next to her, her arms crossed.

"I heard you."

Which sentence?

"all."

After her hearing was enhanced, it became even more sensitive than He Yuanchao's—whispers from several meters away sounded no different to her than loud noise.

"You really don't care?"

He Yuanchao paused for a moment while chewing the candy.

"What do I care? What do I care if they gossip? What do I care if they complain? It's perfectly normal for people to complain on days like these. If I don't even allow them to complain, then I'll truly become the 'dictator' they're talking about."

"Then what are you waiting for?"

"Let him bring it on himself."

He Yuanchao swallowed the last bit of sugar residue.

"The biggest problem with this kind of person is not that he wants to rebel—he doesn't have the ability to rebel. His biggest problem is the set of rules in his mind."

"He felt that the end times would be the same as before, that everything would be fine with a 'committee,' and that everyone would be equal with 'voting.'"

"But there's one thing he doesn't understand—"

He Yuanchao's gaze turned cold.

"In the end times, power will not come from the vote."

"It comes down to whether you can keep everyone alive."

"He can't do it."

"So whatever he says is useless."

Alice looked into his dark eyes, which shone slightly in the starlight, and felt a conflicted feeling.

Every word this man uttered was chilling.

But everything he did was to protect everyone.

Including Howard.

"You went easy on me," Alice suddenly said.

"What?"

"When you were disciplining Howard on the first day of training, you could have gone much harder. You could have kicked him out in front of everyone, or just beaten him up. But you only scared him a little and that was it."

"And then? Now he's pulling stunts behind your back. If you had pressed him harder back then—"

“He’ll hate me even more,” He Yuanchao interrupted her. “The kind of hatred that’s ingrained in your bones. And then it will erupt at some more crucial moment—maybe when I go out to fight, or maybe when the camp is attacked.”

"A person filled with hatred is a hundred times more dangerous than a person who is merely dissatisfied."

"So I kept him at the level of 'dissatisfaction.' I made him feel that he still had hope of changing the status quo through 'legitimate means.' That way, he wouldn't go to extremes."

"When he discovers that all his 'legitimate means' are just nonsense—"

He Yuanchao's lips curled slightly.

"He calmed down on his own."

Alice remained silent for a few seconds.

"Did you learn this in the army?"

The curve of He Yuanchao's lips remained unchanged.

I read it in some miscellaneous books.

Alice rolled her eyes.

Then she pushed aside the pillar behind her and walked towards her wooden house.

He took two steps, then stopped and turned around.

"I suggest you just tie him up. It'll save you trouble."

He Yuanchao chuckled.

"Wait a little longer."