Zhang Yi watched the building's group chat scroll past like a feed of panic. Uncle You messaged first: "What do we do now?" Zhang Yi answered coolly: "The time's right. Back me—make them obey. Show kindness when useful, power when needed. Their safety isn't my priority; my safety is. Most of these people have blood on their hands—they'll want revenge someday. Better to send them to the front now."
Uncle You jumped in publicly: "@everyone, we need Zhang Yi. If he's the only one left, we'll be lonely. Please—help us. We'll follow." The chat filled with desperate pleas: "We'll do anything! Just don't abandon us!"
Zhang Yi sneered in reply. "I'm doing this for Uncle You. I don't care about you. I can survive alone. Why should I risk myself for you?" The messages turned frantic: "No—please! We'll obey!"
He pushed harder. "Really? If I tell you to fight the Tianhe Gang with weapons, would you?" Silence dropped over the chat. He let it sit, then scoffed: "Want me dead? Fine—wait for Huang Tianfang to do it. Goodbye."
Uncle You pleaded, "Don't walk away! We'll fight with you!" His appeal snapped the unit to attention. Fear and survival overrode pride; the neighbors agreed to comply.
Zhang Yi declared his terms. "From now on I'm in charge. Slackers are traitors. Traitors die. Don't hide—if you do, I'll find you." He publicly named those who tried to avoid responsibility (Fang Lin, Liang Yulu), reminding everyone coldly of the dozens he'd already put down.
Then he dangled a carrot. "I'll get supplies. I used to work in warehousing—I know Tianhai's malls and depots. I've got five snowmobiles to cross the drifts." The chat went quiet for a beat, then flooded with new desperation and grudging reliance. They needed him; he had turned that need into control.