The Rise of a Special Forces Soldier Abandoned by a Wealthy Family

The night was as dark as ink, and in a quiet alley, the garbage cans emitted a sour, rotten smell.

A figure completely shrouded in black clothing appeared silently, like a ghost blending into the night.

He looked around warily, and only after confirming that no one was around did he take out an old-fashioned cell phone, dial a number, and speak quickly in a processed, deep, hoarse voice:

"The target has been identified and is now in the game; we can proceed with the next step of the plan."

A calm, unwavering voice came from the other end of the phone: "Okay. Thank you for your hard work."

The call ended. The shadowy figure deftly removed the back cover, took out the SIM card, and snapped it off with a forceful pull.

He then removed the phone battery and threw the SIM card, battery, and phone itself far away into three different, filthy trash cans.

Having done all this, he felt as if a huge burden had been lifted from his shoulders. He breathed a slight sigh of relief, shrank back into the shadows, and quickly disappeared at the end of the alley.

However, less than a minute after he disappeared.

Another, more blurred figure, almost completely blending into the darkness.

Like a ghost, it slowly "emerged" from the shadows of a corner where no one could possibly hide.

The figure made no unnecessary movements, and didn't even look in the direction where the shadow disappeared; it simply walked straight towards the three trash cans.

His movements were precise and efficient, as if he already knew where the item was.

They quickly retrieved the discarded cell phone fragments and SIM card pieces from the filth and placed them in a specially made evidence bag.

The entire process was silent and lightning fast.

After doing all this, the figure quietly disappeared, as if it had never existed.

Only the stench emanating from the alley testifies to the brief and eerie handover that had just taken place.

Downtown, a penthouse office in a skyscraper.

Outside the huge floor-to-ceiling windows, the city of Beijing shines brightly with dazzling lights, like a vast starry scroll unfolding before your eyes.

A young man stood leisurely by the window, holding a glass of red wine, admiring the "empire" he believed he was destined to conquer.

His young face carried a calm confidence that he had everything under control, along with a hint of cold excitement.

"The night is truly beautiful tonight," he murmured to himself, a cruel smile curving his lips. "And what follows... will be even more beautiful."

He put down his wine glass, picked up an encrypted phone from the table, and dialed the first number, his tone indifferent yet leaving no room for argument:

"The video has been sent to your email. Spread it across the entire internet as quickly as possible. I want the news of 'a top student from Beijing Tsinghua University instigating the murder' to top the trending topics on all platforms before sunrise tomorrow."

He hung up without waiting for a response.

Without the slightest hesitation, his fingertips pressed the second number that had been prepared beforehand.

This time, his tone was more concise, carrying an unquestionable command: "Arrest them as quickly as possible."

Two words, like a cold iron hammer, smashed onto the anvil of fate.

The piercing sound of police sirens suddenly shattered the tranquility of the Beijing night sky!

A police car with its roof flashing alarming red and blue lights, and the word "Criminal Police" on the side of the car appearing particularly solemn and cold under the lights, was speeding through the traffic.

Its direction is clear—Beijing-Tsinghua University!

The atmosphere inside the car was so oppressive it was suffocating.

The two uniformed detectives had stern, steely expressions and sharp, hawk-like eyes. The young detective driving the car gripped the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white from the force.

The middle-aged detective in the passenger seat, presumably the leader, stared intently at the road ahead, his walkie-talkie crackling with clear, chilling instructions:

Attention all units!

The target is Zeng Long, a student in the second class of the Economics Department at Beijing University.

He is suspected of instigating others to commit a vicious knife attack that resulted in serious injury, an extremely serious offense with a negative social impact!

The order is hereby given: arrest him immediately! (Repeated: arrest immediately.)

Each word was like a cold nail, crashing heavily into the carriage, foreshadowing the coming storm.

Meanwhile, in the Ministry of Security of the Dragon Kingdom, the minister's office was brightly lit.

Li Weiguo stood beside the large desk, his brows furrowed and fine beads of sweat glistening on his forehead, a stark contrast to his usual calm and composed demeanor.

He was tightly gripping a red, confidential internal telephone receiver.

His fingers trembled slightly from the pressure as he pressed the number that only a very few people knew, a number whose field was entirely filled with "0".

The call was connected.

Li Weiguo's voice was somewhat hoarse with urgency, even carrying a barely perceptible hint of pleading:

"Secretary Li, hello! This is Li Weiguo! May I ask... is His Majesty resting? I have an extremely urgent and important matter that I must report to His Majesty in person immediately!"

There was a few seconds of silence on the other end of the phone, as if they were weighing their options and seeking instructions.

The brief wait felt like an eternity to Li Weiguo. He could hear his heart pounding wildly.

Finally, a response came from the other end of the phone.

Li Weiguo immediately replied decisively, "Okay! Understood! I'll set off right away! I'll definitely be there within an hour!"

*Click!* The phone was disconnected.

Li Weiguo breathed a heavy sigh of relief, but the seriousness on his face did not lessen at all.

He didn't even have time to put on his coat; he grabbed his car keys from the table and dashed out of the office like an arrow.

The footsteps echoed in the empty corridor, sounding unusually hurried and heavy.

Outside the window, a police car, a symbol of law and punishment, was approaching the tranquil campus of Beijing Qing University with its siren blaring.

As night fell, an invisible yet deadly net was simultaneously closing in on the seemingly ordinary young man, Zeng Long, from three directions: official channels, public opinion, and behind-the-scenes maneuvering.

A storm is brewing, and the air is thick with tension. The oppressive and heavy atmosphere seems to have frozen the night sky over the capital.

The real contest has only just reached its highest level.

Can Li Weiguo's wheels outrun the speed of a police siren? And can that phone call, which goes straight to the ears of the heavens, reverse this seemingly insurmountable deadlock?

The suspense hangs like the Sword of Damocles, perched high above.