By midnight, Dutch and the others finally returned.

  Seeing them each laden with spoils, it was clear they'd had a profitable day.

  Dutch's face beamed with joy, appearing extremely pleased. They had managed to seize a considerable sum of money and a large bundle of bearer bonds, which, after a while, they could sell off for a handsome return.

  Victorious return naturally called for celebration. At Dutch's command, the gang gathered around the campfire, dancing merrily.

  The perpetually drunk uncle was the happiest of all, given free rein to indulge in his fondness for drink.

  He raised his bottle and began singing lewd songs, while Javier, the gunslinger, uncharacteristically picked up a guitar to accompany him.

  Stephen realized for the first time that this seemingly refined gunslinger was, in fact, a cultured man.

  Lenny and Bill, among others, howled along off-key while dancing around the fire.

  Seeing their joy, Stephen, also intrigued, took a drink and a smoke, and quietly enjoyed the peaceful scene.

  If anyone saw this scene now, and Stephen told them that these people were ruthless killers, they would never believe it.

  "Hey, why aren't you with them?" A gentle and lively voice sounded beside him, followed by someone taking a seat.

  Stephen turned to see Mary-Beth, the literary-minded young woman.

  "What about you? Why aren't you over there? Karen and the others seem to be having a blast." Stephen pointed at the boisterous crowd. Karen was raising a bottle, vowing to drink every man present under the table.

  "Well, those activities aren't really my thing... anyway, I saw you talking with Hosea for a long time today?" Mary-Beth said after thinking for a while.

  "Oh, just chatting. You know, old folks sometimes like to talk a lot, and someone has to listen to their ramblings." Stephen naturally wouldn't reveal what he and Hosea had discussed, but rather, he made up an excuse and glossed over it.

  "Alright." Mary-Beth thought for a moment, then awkwardly said, "Do you like this life? I mean, what do you think about being with us?"

  Stephen considered it, then replied seriously, "I think it's good. I feel relaxed with you all, don't have to overthink things. You're different from most gangs, very different."

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  This wasn't a lie, but rather Stephen's genuine feelings. The Van der Linde gang didn't have the bad habits of some other gangs, such as bullying newcomers, mistreating the weak, or killing for fun.

  What's more, besides gunslingers, they also had many women and children in the gang. For this alone, Stephen had to give Dutch credit – the man was an idealist. Whatever his ideals might be, and regardless of their feasibility, at least an idealist deserved respect.

  "That's good. I thought you might not be used to this life." Mary-Beth smiled at Stephen.

  "Why? Do I not look like a cowboy?" Stephen asked curiously.

  "It's not that. It's just that I feel you're more like a gentleman. Both your words and your actions are more like those of a civilized man." Mary-Beth stammered, seeming a little nervous.

  "Haha, civilized world. What even counts as civilized?" Stephen shook his head and said, "Civilization exists wherever people are, but not all civilizations are good. Nothing is absolute. Do those so-called civilized people who exploit the poor really represent civilization?"

  "Aren't cities and towns considered civilized?" Mary-Beth asked curiously.

  "Of course, but I just don't like them." Stephen shook his head: "This topic is big and heavy, let's just be happy today."

  He raised his glass and toasted with Mary-Beth, then leaned against a tree, leisurely watching the revelers.

  Mary-Beth also leaned to one side, chatting idly with Stephen.

  After a while, just as Stephen was getting drowsy, a shadowy figure crept out of the house.

  Stephen focused his eyes and recognized Micah Bell, the man who had had his teeth knocked out and was despised by everyone in the gang.

  The man seemed to be afraid of being seen, wearing a mask, and sneakily came to the bonfire to grab two bottles of liquor, then turned to head back.

  Bill spotted him and excitedly ripped off his mask, revealing his toothless grin.

  This action caused an uproar of laughter from everyone present, who pointed and laughed at the disheveled Micah.

  The ridicule deeply stung Micah. He frantically waved his hands, snatched the mask back from Bill, then sullenly headed back inside.

  As he returned, he glanced at the composed Stephen and glared at him.

  Stephen leisurely raised his bottle, toasted him, then drained it in one gulp.

  No need to care about scum like that.

  "You really messed him up that time. We've had some peace and quiet these days." Mary-Beth beside him said with a smile.

  "Why do you all hate him so much?" Stephen asked curiously.

  "That guy's like a mad dog." A look of disdain appeared in Mary-Beth's eyes: "He often comes around and teases us girls for no reason. Although he doesn't dare to really do anything, you know? That feeling is really annoying."

  "Then how did someone like that join the gang?" Stephen pointed at the others present and asked, "I mean, you all are good people, maybe with your own flaws, but you're all good people. But that guy, I really can't see any particular virtue in him."

  "I feel like you all hate him, so how did he survive in the gang?"

  "What virtues could he have?" Mary-Beth shook her head: "He saved Dutch once, so Dutch invited him to join the gang."

  "I don't know why, but Dutch values him a lot. Plus, he's actually pretty good with a gun, so sometimes we have to endure his stupidity and audacity." Mary-Beth said helplessly.

  Values that guy? Stephen looked curiously at Dutch, who was also happily laughing, and felt very puzzled.

  What qualities did Dutch see in that guy?

  Stephen suddenly became very curious. He felt that this guy named Micah Bell must have some strange traits that he hadn't noticed.