My Ares Son-in-Law

"boom!"

The muffled sound, like the beating of a drum, echoed loudly throughout the banquet hall.

Ao Feiyang was struck as if by a heavy blow, staggering back three steps, each step leaving a deep footprint on the hard marble floor. His chest heaved with blood and qi, his throat tasted sweet, and most of the protective true qi he had gathered was shattered by the impact.

“You…” Ao Feiyang was both shocked and furious. Only then did he truly realize that the strength of the young man in front of him far exceeded his imagination and was terrifying to the extreme.

Xiao Chen, however, gave him no chance to catch his breath.

With a swift movement, he approached like a ghost, his right hand forming a sword-like shape, aiming straight for Ao Feiyang's Tanzhong acupoint. This is one of the fatal acupoints for martial artists; once hit, true energy dissipates and meridians are severed!
Before the fingertips even touched him, the sharp wind from his fingers already stung Ao Feiyang's skin.

Ao Feiyang roared, his true energy erupting wildly, his gray robe billowing like an inflated balloon, fluttering loudly.

He rapidly drew circles in front of his chest with both hands, and as his true energy circulated rapidly, a visible vortex of energy condensed in front of him. This was his trump card life-saving technique, "Vortex Defense," which could deflect 90% of external force and was difficult for even martial artists of the same level to break through!
"break."

Xiao Chen uttered only one word, his sword pointing straight into the center of the cyclone without any fancy moves.

"Swish,"

A piercing sound like tearing silk rang out, and the protective aura that was strong enough to withstand 90% of external force was actually torn apart! The sword finger went straight in and accurately struck Ao Feiyang's Tanzhong acupoint.

Ao Feiyang trembled violently, as if struck by lightning, his body shaking uncontrollably. His surging true energy dissipated in an instant, his legs gave way, and he collapsed heavily to his knees with a thud.

He struggled to stand up, but found that all the meridians in his body seemed to be locked by invisible chains. He couldn't even move a finger, let alone get up.

Xiao Chen then slowly lifted his foot and stepped on Ao Feiyang's shoulder, applying a little force.

"Click."

A crisp cracking sound rang out as Ao Feiyang's shoulder blades, unable to withstand the weight, let out a painful groan. He was pinned to the ground, his cheek pressed against the cold marble floor, the biting chill spreading through his entire body.

“Now,” Xiao Chen looked down at the disheveled Ao Feiyang at his feet, his voice terrifyingly calm yet carrying a chilling edge, “who should kneel down?”

The air in the banquet hall instantly froze.

The previous lively atmosphere of clinking glasses and elegant attire has been completely crushed by this battle. In its place is a thick, suffocating silence.

The crystal chandelier was still lit, but its dazzling light seemed to be blocked by an invisible barrier, unable to penetrate the area, leaving only a long, lonely, and cold shadow at Xiao Chen's feet.

In the shadowy area, several people in uniform lay curled up on the ground, groaning incessantly. Dark red blood slowly seeped from beneath them, gradually eroding the expensive wool carpet—a horrifying sight.

Amidst the chaos, only Xiao Chen stood proudly.

His hands were empty; he simply lowered his eyes and calmly looked at Ao Feiyang, whose chest and abdomen were being trampled under his feet.

Ao Feiyang's uniform was of excellent quality, with insignia embroidered in dark gold thread on the cuffs, but now it was covered in dust and bloodstains, and was crumpled up in a disheveled mess.

His face turned purplish-red, his eyes bulged, and a strange "hoarse" sound came from his throat, with blood and foam constantly oozing from the corners of his mouth. He struggled with all his might, but the foot that was pressing on his dantian remained motionless, as heavy as a thousand pounds, not only crushing his bones but also extinguishing the last trace of life flowing within his body.

“You…you little beast…” Ao Feiyang squeezed out broken curses through clenched teeth, each word dripping with blood, “I’m a member of the Dragon Group…how dare you…how dare you…”

"The Dragon Group?" Xiao Chen raised an eyebrow, his tone laced with sarcasm. "The fact that the Dragon Group didn't eliminate scum like you is a grave dereliction of duty on their part!"

His voice was not loud, and even had little inflection, yet it was like a sharp blade forged from thin ice, scraping across everyone's eardrums and bringing a chilling sensation.

Xiao Chen tilted his head slightly, seemingly seriously considering the weight of the title "Dragon Group," and then suddenly stomped his foot hard, grinding it down fiercely.

"Click."

A soft yet distinct cracking sound rang out, like crushing a dry nut shell. Ao Feiyang's eyes widened in terror, followed by a desperate scream.

His uniform, once a symbol of status and power, now only covered a rapidly withering body, devoid of any intimidating presence.

Xiao Chen slowly moved his foot away, the sole of his shoe lightly rubbing against the carpet as if brushing away non-existent dust. His movements were still slow and gentle, yet they carried an indescribable domineering air.

"The ones I took down were the scourges within the Dragon Group," he said calmly.

The moment the words left his mouth, the two heavy solid wood doors at the end of the banquet hall, inlaid with brass patterns, burst open with a loud crash!

It wasn't pushed aside, but blasted to pieces! Wood fragments mixed with brass parts shot inwards as if struck head-on by an invisible giant hammer, accompanied by a sharp whistling sound.

Amidst the billowing dust, a dark figure, like a ghost, pierced through the smoke and arrived suddenly, stopping steadily ten steps away from Xiao Chen.

The newcomer was a middle-aged man, not particularly burly, even somewhat thin, dressed in a black, close-fitting outfit without any markings, yet it outlined smooth and explosive lines.

His face was extremely ordinary, the kind of face that would be instantly lost in a crowd. Only his eyes were deep and still, like two ancient wells that had remained undisturbed for a thousand years. Yet, deep within those wells lay a sharp light that could pierce through all illusions.

His right hand hung by his side, his fingers long and slender with distinct knuckles, from which a dark liquid was slowly dripping, one drop, two drops, silently merging into the deep red plush of the carpet and disappearing without a trace.

His sleeve was torn in several places, revealing fresh, rolled-up flesh underneath, with scabs forming on it. Yet his expression remained unchanged, as if the pain belonged to another body and had nothing to do with him.

He stood there quietly, and the chaotic and restless air that had been caused by Xiao Chen's fight with Ao Feiyang seemed to be pressed down by an invisible hand, forcibly returning to a heavier and more oppressive calm.

Even the faint groans of the wounded in the corners unconsciously became lower and weaker under this oppressive force, eventually fading into complete silence.

The only sounds in the banquet hall were the suppressed breathing of the crowd and the suffocating aura emanating from the figure in black.

The middle-aged man's gaze first swept over the uniformed martial artist curled up and unconscious on the ground, paused briefly on Ao Feiyang, whose dantian was completely destroyed and who was slumped into a puddle of mud, and then accurately landed on Xiao Chen's face.

There was no anger or surprise in that gaze, only a cold, inorganic scrutiny, as if assessing a lifeless object or examining a corpse whose fate was already sealed. (End of Chapter)