The falling winter snow gradually grew thicker, and before long, the streets were painted in white, making the chill seem even more intense.
In front of the internet cafe stood at least forty people, who were now eerily silent, their breathes puffing out in white clouds. They watched Tang Zheng quietly, waiting for him to finish his phone call.
The young internet cafe manager who had just called the boss saw that the group fight had paused and rushed out toward the middle-aged boss. In his hurry, he slipped and fell to the ground. However, he quickly got back up, brushed off the snow on him, and bent towards the boss.
"Boss, that sports car they drove... it's probably worth fifty million." The manager's face was pale, and he regretted not being clear about the situation earlier. The middle-aged man had some connections, but he was obviously no match for the young man with the baseball bat. Looking at the boss with disgruntlement, he wondered why he had been so impulsive.
