The Son-in-law Dominance

Soul Returns Home

Prosperia's Marinopolis International Airport.

"Make way!"

"Get out of the way!"

Dozens of thugs rushed into the corridor, moving with urgency as if facing a formidable enemy.

Passengers who had just disembarked hurriedly made way. Most of them were unaware of what was happening, but the sudden appearance of so many thugs left many feeling bewildered.

After the plane landed, the overweight man blocked the exit arrogantly, cursing loudly and displaying an extremely arrogant attitude.

"On my turf, you bastards better prepare to die. Once my brothers arrive, I'll make sure you two won't leave here alive!"

"Dare to lay a hand on me. Both you and the old man, don't even think about leaving here alive."

The glamorous woman assisted the overweight man in blocking the door, hands on her hips, confidently ignoring the persuasions of the flight attendants. They refused to let anyone pass.

All the thugs arrived, and the arrogance of the overweight man became even more overwhelming.

A group of people arrogantly blocked the door, boldly awaiting Ken's appearance.

Passengers were driven away one by one, creating a chaotic scene.

Inside the first-class cabin, the flight attendants wore anxious expressions, appearing as if ants on a hot pan.

"These two guests, the person you hit is Randolph Bentham, a well-known local tyrant and real estate magnate. He controls everything, and reporting to the police won't help. You should leave through the cargo exit."

Even the air marshal seemed anxious, nervously glancing at the situation outside before continuing:

"I heard about a university student who once had a verbal altercation with Randolph. That day, he had both hands chopped off, nearly losing his life. Randolph is not someone to be trifled with. Why aren't you worried at all?"

Ken remained calm, showing no signs of urgency.

"Scum like him shouldn't be allowed to live."

After saying this, Ken took out his phone and dialed a number, uttering only one sentence.

"Let everyone into the airport; I'm going to deal with a piece of trash today."

Hanging up the phone, Ken noticed the comrade's father beside him, visibly tense, shaking with the urn in his hands.

Ken patted the father's hand and whispered:

"Don't worry, I can handle it. Look outside."

Outside the airplane window.

Countless military vehicles drove straight in, entering the airport. The long convoy of vehicles came to a halt, and numerous individuals in black descended from the vehicles.

Uniformly sporting crew cuts, white shirts, and black trousers, there were over a hundred of them. What was even more shocking was the black cloth wrapped around their left arms—mourning bands!

The newcomers formed disciplined ranks, well-trained, exuding a formidable aura.

Everyone who witnessed this scene was dumbfounded.

Ken calmly stood up and said, "Let's go, old man."

"What is this..."

The comrade's father was dumbfounded.

The awe-inspiring scene didn't end there. Several cars approached from a distance, and the people descending from them turned out to be generals of Marinopolis' National Guard, rapidly approaching the airplane entrance.

The thugs blocking the door were left dumbfounded upon seeing this.

Randolph, the overweight man, didn't recognize the newcomers. Meeting them with a show of strength, he asked:

"Are you here to help me?"

"Who are you?" one of the generals questioned.

"I am Randolph. I assume you were sent by someone above. That's right; there are two people on the plane. Capture them for me. I want to personally kill those two bastards."

Slap!

As soon as Randolph finished speaking, a slap landed on his chubby face. The force wasn't too great, but it left Randolph bewildered.

"Why did you hit me?"

"Capture them all!"

The newcomers waved, and their bodyguards swiftly advanced, all armed. Without hesitation, they apprehended and restrained all the rowdy thugs.

At this moment, Ken calmly appeared at the exit.

"Salute!"

The formation stood rigidly at attention, shouting in unison, their voices echoing through the airport.

"Salute to the War God!"

The deafening shouts reverberated throughout the airport.

"War God? Who's that?"

The controlled Randolph, bewildered, asked, but as he strained to turn his head and saw the person considered the War God, his eyes nearly popped out.

"He is... the War God, the ruthless killer... Ken... Ken Buckle!"

Randolph was dumbfounded. He hadn't expected that the person he had clashed with was the unstoppable god of war on the battlefield.

Randolph's legs went weak, and he involuntarily lost control of his bodily functions.

Ken, facing the soldiers, returned the salute and made an unexpected gesture—a polite invitation.

Amidst the stunned crowd, a white-haired old man, holding an urn with utmost care, slowly walked out.

The soldiers returned to formation, a solemn salute to a fallen comrade. This was the highest respect, the most sorrowful elegy.

After three rounds of gunfire, everyone stood at attention, focusing on the father holding the urn.

Ken reciprocated the salute and said, "I entrust my comrade's funeral to you. My only request is that it be grand."

The leader saluted again, "We promise to fulfill the mission."

Ken nodded and, finally, gently caressed the urn, saying softly:

"Brother, have a safe journey."

With those words, Ken tilted his head and looked at the now trembling Randolph.