The Son-In-Law Shot To Fame Chapter 174

With rough estimation, there were at least more than a hundred private armed forces and organizations which originally belonged to different governments.

That situation persisted until Donald conquered Quadfield.

With the mention of Quadfield, a name would pop up in everyone’s mind-Lord Campbell.

*Your surname is Campbell. You are… Lord Campbell!” The color completely drained from Sixten’s face. He shook like a leaf, causing him to almost lose his footing as he felt a chill rising from his foot to his head.

This is why he dares to attack me! No wonder he has the guts to claim that killing Tyrone is not a big deal!

In Pollerton, Donald might not be able to fight against the Campbell clan, but outside the city, the Campbell clan was definitely no match for Donald.

Besides, Donald was a person with tremendous potential to the country.

Six years ago, it was rumored that he almost joined The Eleventh Array.

“That’s right.” Donald held the grandfather clock in his hand and looked at Sixten coldly. “I’ve warned you that this clock will be your coffin.”

Sixten’s knees buckled. “Please forgive me, Lord Campbell!”

Donald walked to him without any expression on his face. “I can’t do that.”

Just as Sixten was about to say something else, he was enveloped in a dark shadow.

The shadow of the enormous clock had completely fallen on him, enshrouding him in pitch-black darkness.

“I admit that I’m wrong, Lord Campbell. Please spare my life!” Trapped inside the clock, Sixten begged for his life continuously.

Donald’s voice permeated through the grandfather clock and reached Sixten’s ears. “If you can stay alive after taking nine blows, I’ll let you off the hook.”

Sixten froze after hearing Donald’s words, but he soon understood what the latter meant.

A deep chime of the clock rang loudly, deafening Sixten’s ears.

“Argh!” He let out a bloodcurdling scream as he covered his ears. His eardrums had perforated.

Blood oozed out through his fingers and stained his shirt.

As he was in the middle of the grandfather clock, the sound waves swept past his body and formed ripples on his flesh.

“Lord Campbell!” he roared before letting but a sob.

Standing in front of the clock, Donald ignored him and sent another blow on the grandfather clock to create another loud chime of the clock.

The clock chimed away in the middle of the night, awaking many people who were sound asleep.

“Who is the madman ringing a bell at this hour?”

“Who the hell is it?”

“What are they doing?”

People from the floors below raised their heads to look at the thirty-third floor, wondering what was going on there.

Amidst the darkness, Sixten’s fear had reached its peak. With his voice already hoarse from screaming, he cowered on the ground with his palms on his ears. His ears continued to ring as he lost consciousness gradually.

Donald made the clock chime nine times and turned around to give a final glance to the grandfather clock before he gently leaped out of the window from the thirty third floor. With that, he landed on the box truck and left.

At two o’clock in the morning, a number of people barged into Sixten’s apartment unit after someone called the police and filed a complaint about the noise from Sixten’s house.

When about seven to eight people opened the grandfather clock together, they were shocked to find Sixten cowering in it with bulging eyes. He was already dead with blood flowing out from his eyes and nose.

“Goodness! He was killed by the sound vibrations alone!”

“With my many years of experience, this is the first time seeing a murder of this nature!”

“Something’s off here. This huge clock weighs at least six hundred to seven hundred pounds. How did it get up here?”

Many people were discussing the murder fervently.

“Check the surveillance cameras, including those in the elevator and at the staircases,” a policeman instructed.

The news of Sixten’s death spread around the next day. Gideon was having his breakfast when he heard the news, and he was so shocked that he almost dropped the bowl in his hands.

“He was killed by a clock’s chimes? Wasn’t Donald the one who took the clock away?” Thinking that something was wrong here, he frowned. “Did Donald hide his identity from us?”

“But how did the clock get onto the thirty-third floor?” Jack also made a face, but he was not too troubled by the news of Sixten’s death.