Chapter 143: Chapter 130, Personal Desires_3
Bol opened his mouth, hoping to speak, but Chief Terrell lifted a hand to stop him.
“Shut your mouth. I didn’t ask you. Say one more word, and I’ll kill you,” he said.
Bol could only close his mouth and remain silent.
The brothers beside him, however, couldn’t maintain the composure that he had when facing the notorious and brutal Chief Terrell.
Terrell looked at these men with their nervous and confused expressions and revealed a fierce grin:
“Speak up. The one who speaks, I’ll spare your life,” he said.
Finally, someone couldn’t resist any longer.
A tall, thin fellow quickly distanced himself from his brothers and said, “It was Bol! Bol convinced us to do this! He let the person go, talking about needing to keep a way out, not to take things too far!”
As these words were spoken, Bol and the comrades next to him turned pale. Some were shaking so badly they could barely stand; others cursed the traitor; some sought to make excuses…
Bol’s gaze, however, was locked on Terrell.
At this moment, life and death lay within the great leader’s whim.
As the noise gradually subsided, Terrell calmly took out a gun and spoke, “Do you have anything else to say?”
Taking a deep breath, Bol answered, “All I did was for the good of our brothers. If we killed everyone, we’d make an enemy for life, and then…
“You’re pretty good at keeping options open for yourself,” he was interrupted.
Bol tried a different approach, earnestly pleading, “Chief, I’ve followed you for ten years now. The brothers from the early days are dead or missing, and few of us are left. We’ve built a great enterprise, with thousands dependent on us for a living, and we’ve united many tribes around us… We’ve come to an end here.
“What will come next? We couldn’t stand against the old Alliance Government, and we stand even less of a chance against the New Alliance Government. Haven’t you seen the army that recently came here? They have armored vehicles! They have tanks! They have artillery! Are we really meant to fight such an enemy?
“Though we greatly outnumber them, and we have the advantage of surprise, even if we win, they will send a second, a third army. We can’t afford such losses.
“What’s wrong with taking this chance to join the New Alliance’s system? All the brothers would have a place, and you could still lead us, enlisted by the Alliance into the army. Look at that Major Perbov, how impressive he seemed arriving in that armored vehicle. In the future, you could also be a general… Wouldn’t that be good? I really don’t understand why you insist on being a bandit, a plunderer?”
Bol’s words indeed came across as sincere.
Regrettably… Terrell was utterly unmoved.
He quietly said, “Are you done?”
“I’m done,” Bol replied.
“For the sake of your father, who once saved my life, and for the ten years you’ve been with me, I gave you a chance to speak. You know if you begged for mercy, I would have let you live, but unfortunately, you have said such things,” Terrell responded.
He pulled the trigger.
The bullet mercilessly passed through Bol’s head.
The raider captain immediately fell to the ground, lifeless.
Terrell looked at the other followers of Bol with disgust and waved his hand: “Kill all these traitors.”
A burst of gunfire ensued, leaving no one alive.
Then, Terrell turned to the fellow who had reported Bol earlier.
The man was so scared that he was about to wet his pants: “You… you said you would spare my life.”
“Yes,” Terrell approached him, his hands gripping the man’s head, “I did say that. I will forgive your act of betrayal, but you caused the death of my dear nephew Bol; I never said I would forgive you for that.”
“You…”
The man barely had time to say anything more when he felt a tremendous force.
Terrell broke his neck with his bare hands.
After executing the men, the raiders dragged the bodies away, while others continued to keep watch. Terrell turned to the few people who had been standing behind him, watching the scene unfold, and with a grin said:
“In my life, I despise traitors the most. I apologize for the display, gentlemen.”
“Nothing to apologize for, Chief. You’re still merciful,” someone replied.
“I don’t know how old Bol could produce such a naive fool of a son,” remarked another.
“We’ve roamed this wasteland for so many years, relying on our guns, being tougher than anyone else. To expect us to lay down our arms and become farmers, workers? Hell, I’d rather die!”
Among those standing behind Terrell were some of his tribal leaders and some raider chiefs he had invited from elsewhere. At this moment, they were all clamoring, praising Terrell for the killing.
Meanwhile, they left unsaid what was tacitly understood among them.
What Bol had said wasn’t entirely without merit. Were the days of being raiders actually that good?
They burned, killed, and plundered, but there had to be something to plunder. Finding a fat sheep, a wealthy merchant, a survivor’s camp with some savings, they could have a full meal, but such opportunities were not always there, and people wouldn’t just willingly hand over their possessions. To rob at gunpoint meant risking lives.
Even after attaining significant military strength, they dared not ruthlessly plunder many camps; they had to learn sustainable development. They would demand tribute from weaker survivor camps. But those camps barely eked out an existence themselves—how much could they give? In times when life was hard for everyone, the raiders didn’t feast on meat and drink every day.
