My Ares Son-in-Law

The passageway was deathly silent, with only the four rapidly cooling corpses lying on the ground, like a nightmare frozen in the darkness.

The intense stench of blood permeated the air like a tangible substance, relentlessly penetrating every corner. It mingled and intertwined with the pungent metallic smell of engine oil and the faint chemical odor of disinfectant, creating a nauseating and suffocating aura of death.

The aura seemed to have a life of its own, tightly enveloping the entire passage, making each breath feel like swallowing a sharp blade that cut from the throat all the way to the stomach.

Xiao Chen stood there quietly, like a cold, aloof iceberg.

His black trench coat, under the dim light, resembled a curtain in the dead of night, exuding a mysterious and cold aura.

The hem and cuffs of the trench coat were already stained with glaring dark red spots. The vivid color stood out starkly against the black background, like plum blossoms suddenly blooming in the snow, carrying a poignant yet cruel shock.

Every drop of blood was like a silent witness, recounting the fierce and bloody battle that had just taken place.

His face was expressionless, his eyes as calm as a bottomless, icy pool, without the slightest ripple.

It was as if what had just ended was nothing more than a trivial farce, and he merely brushed off a few specks of dust with a casual gesture, his relaxed demeanor a stark contrast to the horrific scene around him.

He then stepped forward, his leather shoes making intimate contact with the cold, smooth metal floor, producing a clear and monotonous echo.

"Tack, tick, tick..."

The sound echoed in the silent corridor, like the death knell tolling, striking people's hearts again and again, sending chills down their spines.

His figure gradually blended into the deeper darkness of the passage, each step carrying an irresistible majesty and determination, as if he wanted to tear the darkness apart completely.

His principles have never changed; they are like ironclad laws etched deep in his soul, unbreakable.

Those who block the way shall die.

This is the survival rule he summarized from countless life-and-death battles, and it is also his most direct response to the world.

In his eyes, life has clear boundaries, and those who dare to block his way are like ants, destined to be ruthlessly crushed.

And these dregs... displeased him.

From the moment he stepped into the third basement level, his extraordinary hearing, like a sophisticated radar, picked up every sound around him.

He had already caught the guards' earlier unrestrained conversation.

Those foul words, like poisonous insects, burrowed into his brain through his ears, igniting the cold killing intent in his heart.

"New arrivals," "Female students from the university town," "Weekend revelry"...

These words kept echoing in his mind, each one like a sharp dagger piercing his nerves.

He seemed to see those innocent girls trembling in the darkness, being trampled and ravaged by these demons.

His gaze grew increasingly cold, like an ice blade in the dead of winter, gleaming with a chilling light.

They don't deserve to breathe. In this world, some sins are unforgivable, and the actions of these guards have crossed his bottom line.

He wanted to use his power to seek justice for these innocent lives and make these evildoers pay the price they deserved.

His steps did not falter in the slightest; he walked resolutely into the depths of darkness, for he knew that there were even more evils waiting for him to eradicate.

At the deepest part of the third basement level lies a mysterious fortress hidden in a dark abyss, the very heart of the infamous "Black Phoenix Organization."

Upon entering this area, the first thing that catches the eye is a hemispherical space entirely cast from high-strength alloy.

The alloy material was incredibly hard, with a surface as smooth as a mirror. Under the dim light, it shimmered with a cold metallic luster, as if silently proclaiming its indestructibility.

The massive curved wall was densely covered with monitoring screens flashing various data. The cold blue light emitted by the screens was like countless ghostly eyes, coldly watching everything below, enveloping the entire space in a somber and oppressive atmosphere.

In the center of this hemispherical space, eleven chairs made of black alloy are arranged neatly in a fan shape.

These seats have cold, hard lines and sharp angles, and every design element exudes a ruthless style, as if they were tailor-made for cold-blooded rulers.

There were five seats on each side, and nine people were sitting upright in the chairs. The seat that originally belonged to Luo Sha was now empty and looked particularly abrupt.

The nine people were dressed differently and had very different styles.

Some were dressed in black tight-fitting clothes, which outlined their strong and powerful bodies, exuding a violent aura, as if they were about to unleash an amazing energy at any moment.

Some wore loose white robes that fluttered gently in the wind, but could not conceal their sinister aura, making one feel as if a cold, venomous snake was slithering around them.
Others wore sharp suits, exuding composure and sophistication in every gesture, their eyes revealing an unfathomable cunning.

Without exception, they were all true core high-ranking members of the Black Phoenix Organization, powerful figures who controlled different areas of this vast and mysterious martial arts kingdom, manipulating events and dominating their respective fields.

In this somber atmosphere, at the very front, center, and highest position, stood a huge, dark red alloy chair that resembled a throne.

This chair is taller and wider than the surrounding chairs, as if it were a symbol of power, high above, looking down on everything below.

Sitting upright in the chair was an elderly man with gray hair, which was neatly combed.

His hair was neatly combed back, each strand appearing meticulously styled, without a single stray hair.

He was wearing a well-tailored dark gray Zhongshan suit, with delicate embroidered patterns on the collar and cuffs. The patterns were faintly visible in the dim light, adding to his mysterious aura.

His face was thin and gaunt, and the years had left deep marks on it, but they had not diminished his majesty and imposing presence in the slightest.

He sported a meticulously trimmed silver-gray mustache, which curled slightly upwards, as if proclaiming his pride and confidence.

What is most unsettling are his eyes, which are sunken deep in their sockets, with pupils that are a rare grayish-blue, like glaciers that never melt, cold, deep, and devoid of any human emotion.

As he sat there quietly, his gaze slowly sweeping over the crowd below, an invisible pressure seemed to emanate from him, causing everyone present to feel a pang of unease. (End of Chapter)