After the commotion, the neatly arranged tables and chairs in the hall had scattered, as if swept by a violent storm, with fragments littering the floor in disarray.
On the dusty floor tiles, corpses lay haphazardly strewn about.
The blood that flowed from the bodies formed startling pools of red that flickered with an ominous light under the weak lamp.
The air was heavy with the thick scent of blood.
Zhao Ba and his men were all dead.
Shen Qing had acted decisively, without any sign of hesitation or procrastination.
The once domineering gang of Zhao Ba in the west of the city was so easily eradicated.
Too weak!
Or to say, Shen Qing did not realize he was so strong, mistakenly thinking he was in for a fierce battle.
But then again, Zhao Ba was getting old.
Someone like Zhao Ba, who climbed up from the bottom, lived in hunger when young, suffering from chronic malnutrition.
