The silence that followed was thick and grim.
The men stared at her, some with defiance, some with disbelief. But none moved.
Qingran's eyes darkened, and her voice dropped, quiet and deadly.
"I'm not repeating myself."
Blue light flickered at her fingertips again. A single spark flared, streaking through the air like a shooting star and embedding itself in a plastic crate. It didn't explode, not yet — but the faint sizzle, the way the plastic blackened and melted in seconds, was more than enough warning.
The pockmarked man with the missing teeth jerked back. "S-She's insane!"
"No," one of the younger men murmured, finally stepping forward with a grunt. "She's serious. Come on, move the damn shelves."
He shoved aside a stack of crates. It scraped loudly against the floor.
Qingran didn't blink.
"Good," she said, her tone still icy. "Stack everything to the west wall. Leave two exits clear. I want open lines of sight and no choke points."
