Chenghai took the machete from the stunned man's hand, threw it across the parking lot toward the SUV, and punched him hard enough to send him sliding across the pavement.
The final man stopped running.
Look at that.
That was the first intelligent decision anyone wearing red had made.
Lingyun walked toward him while flames rolled lazily across his knuckles. He didn't need the fire, but it looked impressive, and the man had ignored him earlier.
That sort of thing had consequences.
"Do you give tours?" Lingyun asked again.
The man backed away. "What?"
"I asked about the tours of your territory. You never answered."
"This isn't—"
"Do visitors need visas? Are there forms? Do you stamp passports? I need details in case my woman wants more crafts to do. I don't want to have to go through all this a second time."
