The Son-in-law Dominance

...

On an international flight.

At an altitude of ten thousand meters.

"You old man, for heaven's sake, why are you bringing ashes on the plane? If you don't want to live, don't drag us into it."

Curses echoed from the first-class cabin, pulling Ken's thoughts back to reality.

Turning his head, he saw the overweight man in the adjacent seat hurling insults.

With a Mediterranean hairstyle and a bulky physique, the man resembled a ball of flesh squeezed into the chair.

The person being insulted was the elderly father of Ken's comrade.

In his twilight years, with white hair, he was on this flight specifically to bring his comrade's ashes back to their hometown.

"You old piece of crap, wandering around with an urn, don't you want to live? Get lost!"

Not only did the overweight man mock and insult, but he also shoved the comrade's father to the ground.

"Sorry, sorry."

The comrade's father nodded apologetically, humbly apologizing while tightly cradling his son's ashes, afraid of any mishap.

"Apologies won't do. Don't you know this is an airplane? Bringing a dead person on board. I'll let you carry him, let you carry him!"

Growing angrier with each insult, the overweight man even started physically assaulting the elderly man.

Passengers, witnessing the arrogance of the overweight man, dared not speak up.

Beside the overweight man was a young woman, old enough to be his daughter.

She wore heavy makeup, exuding extreme allure, and her overpowering perfume filled the entire plane.

At this moment, she pressed her body against the overweight man, cheering him on.

"I heard the Titanic sank because of dead people. This old man carrying ashes on the plane deserves to be beaten. Beat him well, and slap him a couple of times for me!"

The overweight man raised his hand, flaunting a mechanical gold watch on his wrist, arrogantly declaring:

"You old man, utterly ignorant of the rules. Bringing a dead person on a plane. Today, even if I beat you to death, you won't die in vain!"

But just as he was about to swing his hand, a pair of hands firmly gripped his wrist.

"Who's that?"

Enraged, the overweight man turned abruptly, facing a pair of eyes as deadly as a killing machine.

Ken Buckle's eyes were bloodshot, filled with raging fury.

Soldiers risking their lives, defending their homeland, facing the brutality of war, preparing for a peaceful rest in death, should not be subjected to such humiliation.

Ken Buckle, furious, didn't hesitate. He slapped the overweight man hard across the face.

The forceful slap left a bright red imprint, instantly swelling half of the man's face.

The glamorous woman widened her eyes, screaming:

"Why are you hitting people! Who gave you the right to hit people!"

"Hitting people? I'm capable of killing!"

Ken Buckle clenched his fist and struck the overweight man's face again.

"Look down on soldiers, insult their spirits. Can soldiers be insulted by someone like you?"

The glamorous woman was stunned, retreating without daring to intervene.

At this moment, two people suddenly stood up from the adjacent seats, both robust individuals, likely skilled fighters, the overweight man's personal bodyguards.

"Stop!"

Shouting angrily, the two rushed forward. The first one received a direct punch to the face, blood splattering as he fell unconscious.

The other bodyguard, still bewildered, received a powerful kick from Ken Buckle, sending him flying more than ten meters into the economy class, breaking several ribs, and rendering him unconscious.

Ken was ruthless, dealing with the bodyguards before continuing to beat the overweight man, causing chaos on the entire plane.

Taking advantage of the situation, the glamorous woman checked on her boss.

"Daddy, daddy, are you okay?"

The overweight man gasped for breath, rubbing his bruised and swollen face, pointing at Ken's nose as he shouted:

"You bastard, dare to hit me! Do you know who I am? I am Marinopolis' Fat Master. You're dead! I'll kill you!"

The overweight man, a stubborn man who cried to his mother when beaten, couldn't grasp the reality. He displayed an air of invincibility, continuously hurling threats and insults.

"You dare hit me. Have you lived long enough? Wait for me after we land. Don't you dare leave. I'll kill you, you bastard!"

A brawl on an airplane couldn't be ignored by the cabin crew and air marshals. They rushed into the first-class cabin to mediate, but their attempts at diplomacy failed, turning this flight into a chaotic ordeal.

Ken remained silent, knowing that someone might end up dead once they landed.

Insulting an elderly father.

Such scoundrels shouldn't exist in the world.

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.

Randolph was scared out of his wits long ago, hastily kowtowing and pleading:

"I'm sorry, I didn't know it was you. I apologize, I was wrong. Please spare my life."

Ken merely cast a faint glance at him, walking and saying:

"Those who offend Prosperia, no matter how far, shall be punished. Those who defy military authority shall not be forgiven."

Randolph's head banged on the ground with a thud, and all his pleas were in vain.

"Commander Buckle, I beg for your mercy, spare my life this time! I won't dare again!"

"Another time?"

Without turning his head, Ken left behind a single word.

"Kill!"

The order was given, and the armed personnel briskly loaded their weapons, uniformly chambering rounds and aiming at Randolph's head and all the thugs causing trouble.

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

The thunderous gunfire echoed through the sky.

Randolph and the thugs were all executed by firing squad.

This scene left all the passengers dumbfounded.

Ken, who gave the order to open fire, nonchalantly sat in a car, not even sparing a glance. His demeanor was indifferent, as if devoid of any emotion.

"Drive."

The driver was a stunning woman with long flowing hair, dressed in a black suit. She took off her sunglasses and handed over a file.

Her code name was Rabbit, a member of the secret special department. Every time she appeared, it signaled the emergence of a secret mission.

"This is your new mission."

Ken took the file without looking at her, casually flipping through its contents.

"Who would have thought that the mighty War God of Prosperia, after retiring, would become a son-in-law. If this gets out, it will surely explode in the world media."

Rabbit murmured while driving.

Ken said with a stern face, "You're unusually talkative today. Is this just a mission?"

"I know it's a mission. Let me express my feelings. Can't we use a sledgehammer to crack a nut?"

While speaking, Rabbit handed over an envelope.

Opening it, Ken took out a fake ID, falsified household registration, and the remaining contents were all mission details.

Amanda Nixon, 26 years old, Marinopolis Nixon Corporation, Chief Engineer of Technical Research and Development, former consultant for Future Technology Research and Development.

Mission Objective: Protect Amanda Nixon, posing as her husband, for 24 hours to prevent the leakage of high-tech secrets.

"Isn't she a high-ranking executive in the corporation? Why arrange her marriage?" Ken furrowed his brow.

"It's probably due to family power struggles. Amanda's grandfather is seriously ill, and Amanda, with her outstanding abilities, has raised concerns among a few uncles who fear she might take the position of the heir. So, they arranged her marriage to please the old man!" Rabbit explained.

"In other words, it's an internal conflict for control of the Nixon family fortune. Amanda's situation isn't great," she added.

After saying this, Rabbit stepped on the brakes. They had arrived!

Shangri-La Hotel in Marinopolis.

Today was truly extraordinary.

Amanda, the first talent of the Nixon family in Marinopolis, publicly seeking marriage, attracted significant social attention as a stunning beauty with both talent and looks.

In the banquet hall, her mother, Ellie Adelaide, kindly advised:

"Amanda, listen to Mom."

"You're not getting any younger. It's time to get married. Besides, your grandfather is sick. Seize this opportunity to pick a man and get married. Worst case, you can get a divorce later."

Amanda clenched her fists, and her body couldn't help but tremble slightly.

Pick a man and get married first, then get a divorce later!

What did they take her for?

Amanda was unhappy, expressing her discontent through silence.

The Nixon family was a well-known business family in Marinopolis. Since Amanda's father's death, both Amanda and her mother had been marginalized, constantly oppressed and excluded by the core of the Nixon family.

Adding Amanda's outstanding talents to the mix, the Nixon family's mainline felt a sense of crisis.

This time, the marriage proposal was presented as a way to please the old man, to give him joy. However, Amanda knew clearly that she was a sacrificial pawn in the family's power struggle.

Formally, they were finding her a husband to marry her off, but in reality, it was an opportunity to suppress her, ensuring she had no chance at inheriting the Nixon family fortune.

Moreover, Ellie, her mother, thought it was a good thing, expecting her to choose a good son-in-law through this grand event.

Amanda wasn't foolish; how could she not understand the conspiracy hidden within?

But what could she do?

The Nixon family's gender bias was severe, and it was clear they were conspiring against her. What could she do?

At this moment, her cousin Samuel Nixon, wearing a smile, walked over.

"Congratulations, cousin. After family discussions, from hundreds of candidates, we've finally selected the most suitable man for you. It wasn't easy."