My Ares Son-in-Law

"What, you really don't know who I am?"

Xiao Chen stood tall and straight like a pine tree, turning his head slightly. The corner of his eye was like a cold and sharp blade, carrying a chilling aura. He coldly swept his gaze over the person behind him who was slumped on the ground like a rag doll.

The man who had collapsed was now in a sorry state, completely devoid of his former arrogance. Under Xiao Chen's sharp gaze, he trembled like a lamb waiting to be slaughtered.

"What? You've completely forgotten all the heinous things you did, like stealing the company my wife worked so hard to build and then using those bloody, cruel, and inhumane methods to harm her supporters?"

Xiao Chen's voice was low and cold, each word seemingly squeezed out from between his teeth, filled with endless anger and hatred, echoing in the silent space and sending chills down one's spine.

"Wife!"

These two words, like a thunderclap suddenly exploding on flat ground, carrying the pungent sulfurous smell from the depths of hell, and with a world-destroying force, struck Di Lang hard on the top of his head!
The sound was sharp and piercing, like a razor blade piercing straight into the depths of Di Lang's soul, striking him like a thunderbolt.

Di Lang's body trembled violently uncontrollably, as if a high-voltage electric current had instantly pierced through his entire body, and every cell was trembling in pain.

His pupils suddenly contracted to their maximum size, like the bulging, desperate eyes of a dying fish, fixed in disbelief on the back of the well-tailored young man in front of the French window.

That figure, seemingly ordinary, exuded an indescribable majesty and domineering aura, like an insurmountable mountain standing in his way.

In Di Lang's mind, a figure that he had deliberately buried deep in his memory and was unwilling to mention again suddenly surged out like a flood bursting its banks.

It was a blurry figure that would wake him from his sleep countless times in the dead of night.

That figure was as powerful as a god, terrifying to the point of chilling, as if with a casual wave of his hand he could destroy a country, shatter the land, and cause untold suffering.

At this moment, this terrifying figure was frantically overlapping with the towering, youthful yet murderous back of the person in front of him!
The overlapping images became clearer and clearer, and more and more...familiar!
A terrifying thought flashed through Di Lang's mind: It was him?!

"How can this be?!"

Di Lang screamed wildly in his heart, how could the War God King who once made him tremble with fear... the War God King who should have died long ago in that mysterious and dangerous place of the Ancient Sea Secret Realm, possibly still be alive and back!

This was simply unbelievable, a fact he could never believe.

"Uh... uh..."

Di Lang's body began to tremble violently and uncontrollably, the trembling growing stronger and stronger, like the last withered leaf swaying precariously in the autumn wind, which could be blown away by the merciless wind at any moment.

The excruciating pain in his broken leg was now completely overwhelmed by immense horror and an indescribable mix of anger and fear.

The anger stemmed from his resentment towards what he was seeing; the fear stemmed from his deep-seated dread of the God of War.

Since then, Di Lang has been like a greedy and cold-blooded demon, treating the western branch of Xinmeng Group as an ant that can be trampled on at will.

He ruthlessly trampled over the remains of the western branch, beneath which lay the despairing eyes of countless employees and the crumbling ruins of a once-glorious business empire.

He frantically seized everything that originally belonged to Jiang Meng. Wealth poured into his pockets like a surging tide, power allowed him to act recklessly on the business stage, and his status made him look down on those he trampled underfoot.

He was intoxicated by the blissful world built of money, as if he were in a dreamlike bubble.

There, he could control everything at will, manipulating events at will, and the exhilarating feeling made him lose himself. He lived in a luxurious villa, drove top-of-the-line luxury cars, and was surrounded by sycophants, living a life of extravagance and debauchery every day.

However, even so, whenever the night was deep and quiet, the thick, pungent smell of blood would always creep up from the deepest part of his memory like a ghost.

The stench of blood, carrying the scent of death and the countless crimes he had committed, haunted him relentlessly, leaving him no escape.

He would always wake up from nightmares, and each time he woke up, it felt as if he had been forcibly dragged out of the abyss of hell.

Cold sweat poured down his face like a burst dam, soaking his bedding. The damp feeling only intensified his unease and fear.

In his dream, those he killed with his own hands were covered in blood, as if they had just crawled out of a pool of blood.

Their faces were twisted like demons, their eyes filled with hatred and malice, and they silently crawled toward him with their white, bony claws outstretched.

They repeatedly questioned him: "Why? Why did you kill us?"

The voice, like a judgment from hell, terrified him.

They stretched out their bone claws, wanting to take his life, as if to drag him into that endless darkness, so that he would never be reborn.

However, Di Lang has never believed in ghosts or gods.

He told himself that it was just a hallucination born of a guilty conscience.

He felt this was the price he had to pay for his success, and that he was willing to do anything to get what he had, even if it meant ignoring innocent lives.

He tried hard to brainwash himself, to make himself believe that all of this was perfectly normal.

However, in his dream, there was an even more terrifying vision.

He dreamt of the return of the God of War, the being who once struck fear into his heart.

The God of War descended like a god, filled with boundless rage and majesty, seeking justice for his wife and demanding an explanation.

In his dream, the figure of the God of War was tall and majestic, and every step he took seemed to pound on his heart, making it hard for him to breathe.

He tried to escape, but found that his legs felt like they were filled with lead and he couldn't move an inch.

He wanted to resist, but found himself to be so small and powerless in the face of the God of War.

He thought this was utter nonsense. The God of War was already dead, which he had witnessed with his own eyes. How could he possibly come back to seek revenge?
He kept reassuring himself that it was just a dream, just an illusion.

He tried hard to forget the dream and continued to immerse himself in his so-called success and happiness.

But at this moment, his worst fear came true; his nightmare had become a reality!
The figure by the floor-to-ceiling window, like a mysterious ghost, slowly turned around, exuding a suffocating sense of oppression. (End of Chapter)