The situation downstairs was much more serious than Qin Hai had anticipated.
The few punks who ran away earlier had somehow gathered a mob of twenty or thirty people, armed with weapons. They had smashed up the place, even torn off the front door, which likely caused the loud crash Qin Hai had heard falling to the ground.
Tables, chairs, windows, almost anything that could be smashed had been destroyed. The floor was littered with broken furniture and shards of porcelain. The damage was extensive, but that wasn't the worst of it.
The chefs who had just charged out of the kitchen were now mostly lying on the ground, including the fat chef who had been wielding a pair of knives. Big Buckteeth was grinding the fat chef's face with the sole of his shoe, looking incredibly arrogant and cocky.
