Novel Name : Son-In-Law Madness

Son-In-Law Madness Chapter 464

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Son In Law Madness

Besieged Nathan was silent. A trace of wet blood stained his mouth on his pale face. As for his hand,

his purlicue was cracked and it bled so much that his Serpent Spear was dyed red. “We should go,” he

whispered in a low voice. Then, he carried Finnley and fled in another direction. Clinging to Nathan’s

back, Finnley asked nervously, “What’s happening?” “Four Novem Stella Warriors—Pharaoh, Beerus,

Erskine, and Hobarton—are here to claim my life.

The whole no man’s land is already sealed off. Anyone who enters dies.” Finnley was shocked. Erskine

was a warrior who came to fame seventy years ago. He was a hundred and fifty years old, but because

he had been injected with a certain serum, he became eternally ageless and abnormally powerful.

Meanwhile, Hobarton—the King of Plagues—was acquainted with the use of poison. “There are at

least thirteen private military forces in no man’s land, totaling at thirty thousand men. These are special

forces soldiers. There are even many from Angel Alliance who joined in! They gathered because our

laboratory successfully created a two-nanometer lithography machine,” Nathan informed. A lithography

machine was an integral facility in fabricating integrated circuits. Its manufacturing and maintenance

required a solid foundation in optics and electronics. There were only a few companies worldwide that

had the know-how to pull off a highly precise seven-nanometer lithography process. That was why it

took the world by storm when they scored a two-nanometer precision domestically. The war to acquire

that technology did not pale in comparison to the battle in Pollerton over the Rising Dragon Project. “Do

you remember how the Golden Lord sacrificed himself protecting the Rising Dragon Project? I guess I

will be following in his footsteps,” Nathan exclaimed.

“All the data and lithography machines are already transported elsewhere, so they want to use me as a

bargaining chip against Chiliad Avion.” “Will Chiliad Avion agree to a deal?” Finnley was skeptical.

“They already did, but I will not let that happen,” Nathan replied. Finnley did not say another word.

Suddenly, Nathan stopped walking. There was a man whose face did not betray any emotions blocking

in front of them. The handsome man seemed to be in his twenties. His right arm was the most striking

part of his body, outshining his unusual eye and hair color. It looked robotic and metallic, and behind

him was a multitude of people. With a closer look, one could recognize that the group was the special

forces. All the soldiers looked as if they were ready for deadly combat. Soon enough, red dots covered

the whole of Nathan’s body. Snipers! When Finnley saw the assembly, he realized that there were at

least five to six thousand men who were armed with modern weapons, and the man at the forefront

was none other than Erskine from Angel Alliance, one of the Novem Stella Warriors. “There’s no

escape, Nathan Collins!” the warrior stated.

Despite his young appearance, his voice was hoarse like a dying man. The truth was, he had lived for a

hundred and fifty years. It meant that he was even older than Randy Rodriguez. Swoosh! Three

shadows sped forward. Before one could even blink, Pharaoh and Beerus had assumed their positions,

surrounding Nathan. The last man to appear was a white-haired warrior dressed in a long white robe. It

was Hobarton, the King of Plagues, another one of the Novem Stella Warriors.

“Yield, and we will spare you,” Pharaoh commanded. The scepter in his hand shone in a cold glimmer.

Nathan put Finnley down and wiped away the dried trace of blood on his mouth. “I am a man of war. Do

you think I will succumb without putting up a fight?” Erskine flashed a savage smile. “Nathan Collins.

I’ve heard attacking is your forte and that you’re third in the whole world. It’s time I see it for myself.”

“No. I will take him,” Beerus interrupted. Beerus was an attacker as well. He was known for his ability to

kill with just a single strike. “No. Leave him to me,” Pharaoh volunteered instead. It was as if none of

them considered Nathan a worthy opponent.

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