The murmurs stilled.
Her eyes—sharp and unyielding—roamed across the group.
"If anyone disagrees," she said, her voice low and dangerous, "step forward. Say it to my face."
Not a single person moved.
Su Jiyai's lips curled slightly—not in a smile, but in grim satisfaction.
She turned to Qiang Zhiiang Zhi and gently placed her hand on his back. "Let's go."
She guided him away from the open space and through the halls of her base.
The guards and staff along the way gave them respectful nods but didn't say a word.
The heavy atmosphere she carried discouraged even a whisper.
Finally, they arrived at a well-furnished room on the second floor—spacious, warm-toned, and spotless.
A bookshelf filled with storybooks and soft pillows lined the window seat. There was even a small desk with art supplies and a plush bed.
Qiang Zhiiang Zhi stood frozen just inside the doorway.
"You'll be staying here from now on," Su Jiyai said, turning to him.
