Son-In-Law Madness

Crack!

Just as Gilbert's hand was about to touch the wine bottle, Donald, as if he had eyes in the back of his head, turned around and plunged the broken wine bottle directly into the back of Gilbert's hand.

“Ah!”

Gilbert uttered a piercing scream, causing Fridolin and the others to shudder.

The shattered glass wine bottle was about as hard as a typical dagger.

Fridolin saw it with his own eyes—the glass bottle had pierced right through Gilbert's palm, embedding itself directly into the table.

Donald is really ruthless!

“Gilbert, I've shown you nothing but respect, don't you think you should do the same for me? I'm new here, and your boys want to start a fight as soon as they see me. That's not quite proper, is it?”

“Screw the rules!”

Gilbert had already developed a deep resentment for Donald in his heart.

He was seething with rage, single-mindedly plotting to bring about Donald's demise.

The smile on Donald's face remained, his right hand subtly rotating the wine bottle.

Gilbert could even hear the sound of the glass bottle rubbing against his hand bones.

At this point, Gilbert didn't dare to act tough anymore.

The terrifying sensation of bones rubbing directly against each other scared him so much that he fell to his knees in front of Donald with a thud.

Donald looked at Gilbert and said, “Gilbert, I've finished my meal now, and I'm thinking about heading back to the hotel for a good bath and some rest. Can you let me leave this private room now?”

D*mn, that's harsh. Could this be the legendary act of destroying one's mind instead of killing him?

He had beaten someone to such a sorry state and still had the audacity to ask if he could leave.

Fridolin didn't want to make a big fuss about the situation either. He said from the side, “Mr. Campbell, today's incident is just a misunderstanding. It's all my fault, no matter how you look at it. How about you let go first, and we take Gilbert to the hospital?”

“That won't do,” Donald said seriously, “The entire Feston is Gilbert's territory. If Gilbert doesn't speak up, how dare I leave this private room on my own? Gilbert, what do you say, can I leave now?”

Gilbert certainly knew why Donald would ask such a question.

If I agree to let Donald go, then I might as well not show my face in Feston ever again.

So Gilbert clenched his teeth tightly, remaining silent.

At worst, he would lose a hand. He didn't believe that Donald would have the audacity to kill him in front of so many people.

It was as if Donald could see right through what Gilbert was thinking.

Donald sighed and said, “I never expected Gilbert to be an introvert. Well, there's nothing we can do about it. If we can't communicate with words, then let's communicate through body language.”

As soon as Donald finished speaking, he abruptly lifted his right knee, aiming straight for Gilbert's chin.