As the vehicle drove onto the smooth highway, the tension in everyone's nerves finally eased.
Louis let out a breath, reached up to undo the strap of his tactical helmet, and took off the hot and cumbersome headgear.
He leaned back against the seat, closed his eyes, and began to review the night's operation in his mind.
First, there was that briefcase.
Although he could feel the case seemed to have a slight reaction, he didn't rush to check it. After all, there were too many people watching now; causing a big commotion would be hard to explain.
He would wait until they returned to the farm and were safe in his own room before studying it.
As for the 'Fire Seed Technique' at the end of the fight... that truly wasn't real magic, as his current level of magic could only make his wand spit out sparks.
In that situation, his first reaction was to use Wingardium Leviosa to control a heavy object and knock the leader unconscious.
But the opponent cunningly shrank his body entirely behind the hostage, the angle being extremely tricky.
So, he had a sudden inspiration and exploited the fact that the opponent was covered in gasoline.
Under normal circumstances, intense burning sensation would instantly destroy a person's rationality, making them instinctively drop everything in their hands to smother the flames, thus buying the hostage a second of life.
Of course, to ensure absolute success, while pressing the electronic ignition switch, he was also secretly casting Wingardium Leviosa. It was that invisible force that forcibly raised the leader's gun barrel, causing all the bullets that might have hit the hostage to go wide.
"Although the current methods look like a Magic trick..."
Louis calculated silently in his mind, "this is precisely for the long run."
With this high-tech toy setting the precedent today, everyone would have a preconceived notion—that the 'wand' in Louis's hand was merely some special scientific tool.
Later, when he truly learned 'Incendio' or 'Lumos,' everyone would subconsciously attribute it to him improving the fuel formula or upgrading the bulb's wattage.
As for how to explain learning more powerful magic like 'Fiendfyre' in the future... Hmph, if he could learn Fiendfyre, what was there left to explain?
Besides the item, Robin also made a great contribution tonight.
Sending it to steal the keys earlier was based on absolute confidence developed from their time together.
It was unclear if it was due to his special constitution or if Robin was inherently gifted, but this little creature was frighteningly smart.
It could not only understand complex instructions but had even learned to read facial expressions.
Normally, when Louis sent it out for perimeter watch, it would not only complete the mission excellently but would occasionally very thoughtfully bring back a few plump field mice to leave by the pillow as an expression of gratitude to its master.
Of course, these wild delicacies usually ended up in Daryl's pot. After all, that outwardly cold but inwardly warm crossbow wielder occasionally helped feed Robin himself, which counted as reciprocity.
After sorting out his thoughts, Louis felt slightly more relaxed.
This surprise attack against the Marauders ended much faster than he anticipated. Team coordination was excellent, firepower suppression was adequate, and aside from a few lightly wounded personnel, there were almost no losses.
However... Louis looked out the car window toward the dark wilderness in the distance, his brow furrowing slightly.
Although the external threat was resolved, the internal hidden danger remained.
That captive locked in the barn, the one with a broken leg, Randall.
In the original story, this Randall was like a hot potato.
Rick's Team had a fierce argument over how to deal with him; they caught him, released him, caught him again, and finally, after much difficulty, made the decision to execute him, only to be stubbornly stopped by Dale.
That kind old man, in order to uphold the bottom line of humanity in his heart, pleaded with almost everyone in the camp, attempting to persuade them not to kill an unarmed prisoner of war.
"Based on the current situation, Dale will most likely make a choice similar to the original one."
Louis sighed internally.
Dale was a good person, the conscience of the team.
But because he had been taking care of the wounded previously, he didn't participate in the attack on The Believers' factory and had not personally witnessed that extreme level of evil.
His views were still stuck in the moral standards of the old world.
He believed that as long as the opponent surrendered and posed no threat, they should be treated humanely.
Louis could understand his thoughts and admired his persistence. In a world where order had collapsed, anyone who could still maintain their moral bottom line was worthy of respect.
However... understanding is one thing, but reality is reality.
Although Randall's gang had been wiped out, he himself might not be harmless. He knew the location of the farm and the background of these people.
Although Dale's starting point for wanting to release the prisoner was good, at a time like this, it was best not to act on it.
"It seems there will be another battle to fight when we get back."
The reality was much as Louis had thought.
The day they returned to the farm, even the ample supplies could not change the oppressive atmosphere.
When Rick proposed executing Randall, Dale, as expected, vehemently objected.
In order to maintain the team's democracy, or perhaps to give this respected elder a little face, Rick gave Dale one day.
"If you can convince everyone to change their minds, we will find another way," Rick had said then.
Thus, Dale wandered around the farm like a lonely missionary.
He sought out Shane, he sought out Morales, he sought out Hershel... he sought out almost everyone.
He tried to awaken the conscience in everyone's hearts, using the moral standards of the civilized world to persuade these survivors who had just crawled out of fire and blood.
But the result was cruel.
No one responded to his appeal... The next morning, the mist had not yet fully dissipated on the grass outside the farm.
Rick immediately gathered everyone to hold an impromptu emergency meeting.
There were not many pleasantries or preliminaries, because everyone knew this moment would come sooner or later, and they all knew what the likely outcome would be.
"Everyone knows the situation."
Rick stood in the center of the crowd, looking tired but resolute. "Although Randall's gang has been eliminated by us, he himself is not harmless."
"He knows the location of the farm and what we look like."
"If we let him go, he might attract other thugs, or return for revenge at some point in the future."
Rick's voice was cold and hard. "We cannot take that risk. Therefore, my proposal is—execute him."
"No!"
The expected objection immediately rang out.
The one who spoke was none other than Dale. He looked at Rick in disbelief, as if he could not believe those words came from him.
"We cannot..." he was about to say something when he was interrupted by a firm female voice.
"Dale, you weren't in that factory."
Everyone turned around in surprise; the one who refuted him was unexpectedly the usually gentle Carol.
"So you have no idea how terrifying living people can be now."
Her voice was steady, but filled with anger: "Some people commit evil not even for survival."
"You didn't see... those lunatics forcing a gun into Carl's hand and making him aim it at Duane's head."
"They forced a child to kill another child, just for amusement!"
Carol took a deep breath and looked directly into Dale's eyes: "Dale, the era of reasoning is long over."
"If we let Randall go today, who can guarantee he won't bring back another group of demons like that?"
Hearing these horrifying experiences, a flicker of wavering crossed Dale's eyes.
But he still stubbornly shook his head.
"I know those people were demons, I know what they did. But Randall... he is only a teenager!"
The old man pointed towards the barn: "His team is gone, his leg is crippled, and he's tied to a post right now, unable to even stand up. He poses no threat to us!"
"We kill those thugs to survive, to save people—I can understand that. But now..."
Dale's gaze became sharp, "But now, if we drag out a completely defenseless prisoner of war and kill him in broad daylight... what is that for?"
"Just for 'convenience'? To save us the trouble of watching him?"
"If we arbitrarily take a person's life because of a 'possible' danger, what difference is there between us and those The Believers, or those thugs?"
"If we lose our bottom line, then what did we fight so hard to survive for?"