Flora didn’t look back. She slowly turned sideways, and the dagger grazed the fabric at her waist. Taking advantage of the movement, she tapped her fingertip on the man’s wrist.
In the next instant, a small patch of ice exploded from the point of contact, instantly wrapping around his fist and the dagger.
The man screamed. The temperature of the ice was too low, causing his skin to stick to the metal.
He kept retreating while flailing his hand, but the ice was like a hard rock encased around it; no matter how he shook it, he couldn’t get it off. He tried banging it against the ground, but the effect was negligible.
The other three seemed to want to salvage the collapsing situation. Staring at their aching calves, two of them charged toward Flora, while the other began to condense fire element in his palm.
That man’s brow was furrowed, sweat beaded on his forehead, and his arm trembled as if he were brewing some kind of ultimate move.
But in another instant—
An ice spike erupted in front of their right feet again. This ice spike was much thicker than the previous ones, about the size of a thigh, and it stabbed diagonally toward their back left.
The two charging forward quickly dodged back, but it was already too late. The tips of the ice spikes rose rapidly before their eyes, grazing their necks.
Before they could react, another ice spike shot out, cutting the palms the two had extended during their charge.
A chilling aura clung to the wounds, causing a pain that felt as if countless fine needles were stabbing into the inner walls of the cuts.
Their pupils shrank in shock.
The two in front were relatively lucky, but the man behind them had the skin of his neck lightly sliced by an ice spike, and a trickle of blood seeped out.
Just as he was hit, the head-sized fireball he had condensed flew out toward Flora.
Flora lightly raised her right index finger, and a tiny ice bead carrying a chilling aura flew out to meet it, colliding head-on with the fireball.
The two colors vanished without a trace the moment they touched.
There was no explosion, no impact, and not even steam was produced.
Glen didn’t know whether he should keep his eyes open or closed. In just a brief moment, an attack of that level had been crushed so effortlessly.
Flora stood where she was and looked down at her cuff. Under the moonlight, the edge of the light blue fabric was stained with a bit of dust.
She reached out and patted it twice.
Glen curled up in the corner, clutching his right arm as cold sweat mixed with dust rolled down his forehead. He gasped for breath, his eyes fixed on Flora as if he wanted to carve her face into his bones.
“You… you…”
Flora looked down and watched him quietly.
That gaze made Glen swallow the second half of his sentence.
Her expression held no extra emotion, as if she were walking down a road and had stepped on a bothersome pebble, kicked it away, and then continued on her way.
“Back then, this looked familiar,” Flora said, her voice steady. “You were kneeling just like this.”
Glen’s pupils shrank, and his face instantly turned deathly pale.
“At the time, you said you would never dare to do it again. You looked like you had seen a ghost, and your body trembled uncontrollably.” Flora paused.
“It seems your body has a good memory; your reaction now is quite similar to back then.”
She glanced at him casually, but it was as if she were looking at nothing.
Glen’s lips trembled violently, and he couldn’t squeeze a single word out of his throat.
“However, it seems your mind has a poor memory.”
Flora said calmly, “If your mind has a poor memory, someone needs to help you remember.”
She raised her left hand and pointed her fingertip across the air toward Glen’s right arm, which was hanging on the ground.
The thin ice that had originally covered his arm quickly spread upward, crawling along his forearm and stopping at the dislocated elbow joint.
The intrusion of the chilling aura slowed the swelling, making the pain of the dislocation even sharper.
The layer of ice gradually thickened while spreading up his sleeve.
For the first time, fear appeared in Glen’s eyes.
Flora didn’t look at him again. She turned and walked back the way she had come.
After taking two steps, she stopped, but she didn’t turn around.
“Don’t come to Qinglan Town again.”
She paused.
“And don’t touch those three again.”
“If there is a next time, I don’t mind being even more ruthless.”
“Now, get out of here.”
Having said that, she continued forward.
The moonlight fell quietly, shining on the five men—some kneeling, some standing, with varying injuries—and on Flora’s cold silhouette.
Her skirt swayed gently at her feet, and the small dusty spot was almost invisible under the moonlight.
Behind her, Glen nearly collapsed to the ground, still staring blankly at her retreating figure.
Lex supported him, not even daring to breathe loudly. No one dared to chase her; no one even dared to take a deep breath.
Flora’s figure gradually blended into the darkness, and the sound of her footsteps faded away.
Only the night wind and the sound of suppressed, intermittent breathing remained in the clearing.
After a long time, Glen finally managed to squeeze out a sentence:
“…Boss, what should we do?”
A lackey walked over to him and helped Lex support him.
“Go! We’re leaving!”
***
Flora returned to the front of the Qinglan Stew Pot and pushed the door open.
There were fewer people in the shop, but many were still eating. Everyone was eating and chatting as they should, as if nothing had happened ten minutes ago.
Flora looked over and saw that Ilya, Eileen, and the others were all in their seats. Ilya appeared calm with her eyes closed, while Eileen seemed a bit nervous, her arms held stiffly.
Seemingly hearing the door open, Eileen quickly turned her head toward the entrance. Ilya didn’t move, remaining still with her eyes closed.
Seeing that it was Flora who entered, Eileen immediately stood up.
She couldn’t help but look closely—Flora, having just finished a battle, was still composed, every step she took perfectly elegant. Her stunning face was spotless, as if nothing had happened.
Eileen was stunned. She stared straight at Flora, not only because of her noble temperament but also because she had just been in a fight yet returned with such ease and naturalness in such a short time.
This young lady looked quite young, seemingly only a few years older than herself, yet she possessed such formidable strength and such poise.
Flora walked to their side and said calmly, “It’s fine now. Everything has been settled; they won’t dare to come back.”
Her tone was nonchalant.
Kaan looked at her, a faint sense of familiarity welling up in his heart, though he couldn’t say why—they clearly hadn’t met before.
“Thank you, truly thank you.” Kaan stood up and bowed deeply to Flora. “Thank you very much.”
His tone was respectful and sincere, his hostility having largely dissipated.
“It’s nothing, as long as you’re safe,” Flora waved her hand.
“Miss, we don’t know your name yet. How should we address you?”