The Return of the God level Son in Law

I stood in the corner of the grand banquet hall, ignored by everyone but the servers.

Crystals glittered overhead like the teeth of some great beast. Laughter echoed through the chandeliers, bouncing between the walls as champagne flowed freely and everyone pretended I didn’t exist. I wasn’t wearing a designer suit like the others. No Rolex. No flashy gold chain. Just a wrinkled white shirt I ironed by hand that morning, and black shoes so worn you could see the edge of my sock.

To them, I was nothing more than a ghost.

No, it was worse.

I was the dog of the Zhang family.

“Li Tian, you’re blocking the waiters. Move.” That voice. Sharp as glass, cold as ice. Zhang Meiling, my mother-in-law. She didn’t even look at me as she spoke, she just waved her hand like I was an annoying fly.

I saw the way she looked at me like I was a piece of trash, she never hid the fact that she didn't like me, even when we were around guests.

I stepped back silently, bowing my head.

It was easier this way.

Easier to stay quiet.

Easier to let them think I was useless.

But the more they forgot who I was, the more they’d pay for it later.

My wife, Zhang Xue’er, sat at the main table, dressed in an elegant silver cheongsam that clung to her curves and shimmered with every movement. She didn’t look at me either. Not even once.

I couldn’t blame her.

Three years ago, she married me because her grandfather arranged it before he died. She didn’t want me then, and she sure as hell didn’t want me now. Especially not when every member of her family made sure she remembered how pathetic her husband was.

“Xue’er,” someone said loudly, raising a glass of wine, “you know what they say beauty like yours shouldn’t be wasted on a servant.”

Laughter.

It was mocking, cruel, and far too loud.

They wanted me to hear.

The speaker was Qin Hao.

Son of the Qin conglomerate, heir to a chain of luxury dealerships, and a man who’d wanted Xue’er long before I ever entered the picture. He was wearing a maroon suit that probably cost more than my yearly salary, and his smile curled like he knew he owned the room.

“I’ve got to say,” he went on, eyes twinkling as he glanced at me, “your... husband has real patience. If I were in his shoes, I’d have offed myself out of shame years ago.”

More laughter from the guests.

Someone even clapped.

Xue’er shifted in her seat. Her expression was unreadable. I caught the briefest flicker of shame in her eyes but she said nothing.

And that was the worst part.

Not Qin Hao’s insults.

Not the Zhang family’s scorn.

Not even the pity in the eyes of the waiters who were better dressed than I was.

No, the worst part was her silence.

I turned away. My fists clenched at my sides, the nails digging into my palms.

Not yet, I reminded myself.

It’s not time yet.

The host walked to the center stage and tapped the mic. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for attending the Zhang Group’s quarterly banquet. And now, a toast from the family’s next-gen leader Miss Zhang Xue’er.”

Polite applause rippled across the room.

Xue’er stood, raising her glass with both elegance and poise.

“My gratitude to everyone who supports our company. I also wish to thank someone who’s... been with me for a while now.”

My heart paused.

Was she going to acknowledge me?

Even just a word?

“He’s been... dependable,” she said carefully. “Though not always successful.”

Some chuckled.

Qin Hao snorted into his glass.

“But even dogs can be loyal.”

That one hit me like a blade.

I froze.

The world didn’t.

Laughter rolled through the room again, louder this time, heavier. I felt it wrap around my throat like a leash. My vision burned at the edges, but I smiled.

Not the kind of smile they expected. Not meek. Not defeated.

Just... patient.

Because she wasn’t wrong.

I had been a dog these past three years. I let them leash me, kick me, feed me scraps.

But a dog who keeps his teeth hidden doesn’t mean he’s toothless.

It means he’s waiting.

The rest of the night was a blur of clinking glasses and false pleasantries. I disappeared into the shadows, used to vanishing when the lights were on others. I didn’t eat. I didn’t speak. I didn’t try to defend myself.

But as soon as the hall began to empty, I slipped away.

Down the back staircase.Into the basement parking lot.

And there beneath the flickering fluorescent lights I finally allowed myself to exhale.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out a dusty black phone.

It wasn’t smart. It didn’t connect to the internet. It had no brand. Just a single button in the center, long pressed until the screen flickered to life.

I hadn’t touched it in three years.

Not since the day I buried that part of myself.

A single message appeared on screen:

“Awaiting authorization. Re-activate Dragon Court?”

My thumb hovered over the YES button.

I thought about Xue’er.

About her eyes looking past me like I was invisible.

I thought about her family, laughing like hyenas, stuffing lobster into mouths they didn’t earn.

I thought about the years I’d spent scrubbing floors, kneeling to beg for hospital bills, swallowing every insult like poison and calling it patience.

And then I pressed the button.

YES.

The screen went black.

Then the screen came alive again

ACCESS GRANTED.

DRAGON COURT REACTIVATED.

WELCOME BACK, LORD TIAN.

A soft vibration buzzed in my palm.

And suddenly... the leash was gone.

The mask was off.

And the dragon they buried had just risen.