"Good people deserved to have guns pointed at them?"
Lu PingAn laughed, so angry he laughed.
Behind him, a whole street lay in blazing ruins.
Wherever his smiling gaze fell, flames ignited the signs and storefronts. For Lu Mouren now, interference with reality on the level of "Specified High Temperature" required nothing more than a look.
"Boom!"
The flames seemed to ignite something flammable, and the entire street began exploding in a chain reaction. Merchants fleeing for their lives were everywhere.
The street's "guards," along with the black-clad security men from shops bearing gang emblems, flew into a rage and tried to kill the arsonist.
"Aaaahhh!"
One flaming man after another rolled desperately across the ground.
Lu Mouren's pale eyes remained vacant, yet something seemed to be brewing within them.
No one dared look directly at him, because the instant they witnessed him, they were already set ablaze.
"Y-you actually dared to offend Black Tea Hall."
"The Salt City Martial Monk Association won't let you off..."
Their wails became background noise for Lu PingAn's continued amusement.
When Mechanical Commercial Street had been completely reduced to ruins, Lu PingAn, the perpetrator, did not leave.
He sat before the ruins that should have been his own shop, waiting with great interest.
Waiting for his opponents' retaliation.
For the local regime's response—if there really was a regime here.
So the gangs came, only to become firewood.
Mercenaries hired by several merchant guilds came as well. Those who recognized what they were dealing with fled at once; those who did not also became firewood.
And then there was nothing else. Until night fell, Lu PingAn never saw the so-called "officials" who should have appeared.
"Tch."
He was a little displeased, but it seemed this was as far as things could go.
This had once