"Not a delivery staff, so are you a chef?"

"The chances of him being a chef are zero, I think he's more likely to be a greeter," Milo speculated.

"Neither," John said with a smile.

"Then what?" Milo and Lorne were very confused.

"You don't have much time left, better get those dishes out. You'll find out soon enough."

With that, John headed towards the kitchen.

The two wanted to ask more questions, but seeing the little time they had left to complete their task, they quickly carried the dishes and rushed to the dining hall.

Inside the kitchen. The chefs were busy at work.

John walked in, and some of the ghost chefs sniffed the human scent, glanced at John with disdain and disgust, but were too busy with their tasks to pay him any attention.

John didn't do much at first, just wandered around the kitchen.

One chef, clearly impatient, slammed his spatula down on the wok and turned to yell, "Vermin, if you keep wandering around me, I'll kill you!"

John ignored the ghost chef's rage and said indifferently, "This dish you've made is not up to standard, go make another one."

"Who do you think you are?"

The ghost chef sneered, then noticed John's attire and his eyes widened in surprise, "You're the new Supervisor?"

The other ghost chefs, hearing this, looked at John with equal astonishment.

A human, the new Supervisor?

"This is a five-star top-tier Restaurant, where hygiene and service are expected to be impeccable, meticulous to a fault. Because of your shouting just now, a lot of spit ended up on the dish, severely contaminating it."

"Your salary and performance score will be deducted according to the Restaurant's rules!"

John ignored the other peculiar gazes directed at him, spoke without expression, and mentally noted the chef's employee number.

"You dare target me?" The chef was furious, his face trembling violently, eyes nearly bursting with rage, as if he wanted to devour John whole.

"For your disrespectful address to a superior, another 100 ghost Coins will be deducted!" John added another sentence. "If you don't do as I say, your punishment will continue to increase!"

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"Fuck you, who the hell are you to tell me to remake a dish?" The chef angrily flipped the wok, scattering the food on the floor.

"A mere vermin trying to boss us around, are you an idiot?"

"So what if you're the Supervisor? You can't change being vermin, piss us off and we'll smash your skull!"

The other chefs also started howling viciously. In an instant, the kitchen was filled with protests.

The chef grabbed John by the collar, threateningly said, "Take off that uniform and get out, stop bossing me around!"

John calmly began to unbutton his shirt.

"Heh, thought you were tough, but you chickened out so quickly, you seem quite obedient," the ghost chef said with a smug laugh.

"You're mistaken, I'm just unbuttoning two buttons to facilitate my official duties."

"What official duties?"

The chef was momentarily stunned, only to see John holding a Bloodied Bone Mallet in his hand.

The next second, the Bloodied Bone Mallet swung back onto the chef's head!

In an instant, the chef screamed miserably, clutching his head in pain.

"Vermin, you dare..."

Another chef glared, wanting to stand up for his comrade.

But just as he took a step forward, a Human Bone Nail was fiercely driven into his brow. He collapsed to the ground, emitting pained groans.

John looked at the remaining chefs and said, "Anyone else dissatisfied? I'm ready to take you all on, I've got plenty more tools to deal with you! The bigger the fuss, the better for me, I don't care, but you'll lose your jobs here because of it!"

John's words stopped the other chefs in their tracks, suppressing their impulsive rage.

Having the opportunity to work in a five-star establishment like Fierce ghost Restaurant was incredibly difficult, and they had gone through great efforts to secure their positions.

Losing it meant they wouldn't be able to survive in Thriller World.

The restaurant was never short of staff, only short of obedient staff.

"Now, does anyone else want to cause trouble?"

"If not, what are you still standing around for? Get back to your stations and work!" John's cold reprimand echoed through the kitchen.

His presence was more terrifying than a ghost's! This human was not one to be trifled with!

This thought surfaced in the minds of the ghost chefs, and one by one, they obediently returned to their work.

The chef who had a nail driven into his body also scrambled up, enduring the intense pain, and worked diligently.

John turned his head, looking at the chef with the smashed head, and said with a smile, "You have five minutes to clean this place up. If I find any dirt, I'll show you what real pain is!"

The chef hurriedly got up and scrambled to tidy up, resembling a schoolchild who had been scolded and was now earnestly correcting his mistakes.

Five minutes ago, the kitchen was filled with protests.

Five minutes later, it returned to its usual state. Moreover, the chefs began to work even harder.

Suddenly, the kitchen door was pushed open.

It was Lorne and Milo returning, holding a new menu in their hands.

Upon entering, they walked to a chef's side, afraid of disturbing him, and said cautiously, "Respected Mr. Chef... this is the order for table two, please... if you could prepare it."

The chef stole a glance at John not far away, took the menu, and replied politely, "Right away, please take a seat over there and wait patiently, okay?"

"???"

Milo and Lorne were stunned.

Did we hear wrong? Why this polite tone?

John walked over and casually picked up the menu.

His action made Lorne and Milo's faces turn pale instantly, and they frantically gestured for John to put it down.

"Are you crazy? The chef is cooking, how dare you touch the menu?"

What they didn't expect came next.

John put down the menu, his voice low and commanding, "Make these two dishes quickly, don't waste any time."

"Yes, yes, there will be no delay."

The chef nodded hurriedly, bustling about with extreme subservience.

Milo and Lorne were completely dumbfounded. They began to doubt themselves, wondering if they were still dreaming.