Uncle Zhang heard the implication in Fang Qingyu's tone, and the veins on the back of his hand bulged.
He forced himself to calm down and said, "Lord Thunder God, I'm not sure how these few unworthy juniors of ours offended you?"
His words weren't finished.
Fang Qingyu's gaze had already bypassed the trembling Zhang Shisi before him and landed on the dilapidated nightclub door behind him.
The calm voice sounded again, interrupting Uncle Zhang's probing, like a final judgment:
"Ten minutes."
"If no one comes within ten minutes, prepare to collect their corpses."
As soon as the words fell.
Fang Qingyu's left hand, hanging by his side, moved his index finger slightly forward.
Zzzla—!!!
A gold arc, fine as hair but dazzlingly brilliant to the extreme, instantly shot out from Fang Qingyu's fingertip, precisely wrapping around Zhang Shisi's phone.
The phone instantly melted into a small pool of scorching red liquid metal.
Dripping onto the charred concrete ground.
