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

The capital city, a behemoth that gathers power, wealth and countless secrets, has never had any real secrets in its core circle.

High walls and deep courtyards, private club rooms, private banquets... Information flows efficiently and secretly between specific social classes like an invisible current.

Chen Yifeng's self-directed and self-acted drama, which ultimately backfired and resulted in heavy losses, has, despite being strictly controlled within a very small scope, become the hottest topic of conversation among young people in the entertainment industry during this cold winter.

"Have you heard? Chen Yifeng has really messed up this time, completely and utterly!"

"It's not just a loss, it's a complete disaster! I heard they spent millions renovating the top floor of his Jinglong Club!"

"The most shocking thing is that Old Chen personally intervened! He took him to the hotel where Zeng Long was staying! What does this mean? Bowing down! Admitting defeat!"

"My God... Who is Old Chen? He actually personally went to apologize for something that happened to a junior? Just who is this Zeng Long?"

"I don't know, it's very mysterious. He's a new transfer student at Beijing University of Technology, he was admitted through a special program, and I heard he studied abroad before, and his grades are incredibly good."

"Good grades alone could cause Chen Yifeng to suffer such a huge loss? Could they make Old Master Chen bow his head? I don't believe it! There must be some kind of powerful force behind this that we don't know about!"

"Minister Li Weiguo seems to have been reinstated..." "Hiss... this pool of water is bottomless!"

The name Zeng Long, like a boulder thrown into a calm lake, stirred up ripples in a specific circle in Beijing.

Some hot-blooded young people were delighted to see Chen Yifeng suffer a setback and developed an inexplicable admiration for Zeng Long;

Those with high aspirations and pride are filled with jealousy and disdain, believing it's just good luck or that he got in through someone else's influence; some even have shifty eyes and begin to secretly inquire and assess, thinking about whether they can recruit him or at least form a good relationship with him.

Of course, there were also many calm observers and analysts who keenly perceived the unusual nature of the matter and developed a strong interest in the energy and secrets represented by the name "Zeng Long".

Meanwhile, somewhere in Beijing, even more secluded than the Jinglong Club.

There are no signs or markers here; hidden in deep alleys or behind high walls, its appearance is so understated as to be almost boring.

However, the interior is a completely different world, extremely luxurious, but not in the modern sense of opulent splendor. Instead, it is an antique and elegant kind of luxury that has been tempered by time and power.

On the rosewood display shelf, the porcelain pieces casually placed may be exquisite pieces from the official kilns of a vanished dynasty.

The ink paintings hanging on the wall may be signed by art giants who have left their mark in history;

The air was filled with a faint, mellow scent of agarwood;

Even a casually opened bottle of red wine on the nearby wine rack has a vintage and origin that would make any connoisseur's heart race.

However, amidst this ultimate elegance and luxury, there is an invisible, unsettling sense of oppression.

In the shadowy corners and behind the pillars within sight, stood silently a group of muscular men in black suits and sunglasses.

They stood motionless like statues, their presence completely suppressed, but the occasional glances from behind their sunglasses were as sharp as hawks, ensuring absolute safety and tranquility in the area.

The owner here is Wu Jun, the eldest grandson of the Wu family. He is a young man whose reputation as a playboy in the industry has long been feared, yet he is also someone that the older generation dares not underestimate.

At this moment, Wu Jun was leaning lazily against a large rosewood armchair.

He was dressed in a well-tailored dark Chinese-style casual suit, made of soft and luxurious fabric.

A beautiful young woman with a graceful figure was standing behind him, her slender fingers gently massaging his shoulders.

Before him stood a man who appeared to be an assistant, his body slightly bowed, head lowered, his posture respectful and even slightly fearful, reporting clearly in a very low voice.

Wu Jun closed his eyes slightly, seemingly resting, or perhaps listening intently.

His expression was perfectly concealed, as calm as the most distant star in the night sky, indifferent and aloof, making it impossible to discern any emotion from him.

Only those eyes that occasionally open reveal a glimpse of their true nature—

That gaze wasn't like the stars, but more like the moon on a cold winter night—icy, clear, with a sharpness and chill that could pierce through the skin and go straight to the depths of the soul.

The assistant's report was clearly related to the recent dramatic changes in Beijing.

When he heard certain key points, Wu Jun's steady breathing paused almost imperceptibly. He slowly raised his hand, signaling the woman behind him to stop.

The room fell into a deathly silence, with only the faint crackling sound of sandalwood burning quietly.

His tone was steady, even strangely magnetic, as he spoke slowly, as if confirming something, or perhaps talking to himself:

"You mean... the conversation between Chen Yifeng and me on the phone... was recorded? And sent to my grandfather?"

Before his assistant could answer, a faint, cold smile slowly crept onto his lips. The smile didn't reach his eyes, but instead made his aura even more dangerous.

"Heh..." He let out a barely audible, cold laugh, like the eerie calm before a storm.

"It seems... the title of 'Young Master of the Capital' is truly just an empty name. Even his own phone could be hacked. He deserves to lose."

He gently stroked the smooth armrest of the armchair, his tone remaining calm, yet carrying an air of condescending indifference:

"Losing those positions is no big deal. They were just things I got by easy money anyway, so it's no big deal if I lose them."

He paused slightly, his eyes, as cold as the winter moon, narrowed slightly, a glint of keen interest flashing within them:

"But... this Zeng Long is quite interesting."

His voice lowered, yet carried an undeniable decisiveness:

"When I play chess, I don't like anyone pointing fingers or giving me unsolicited advice, and I especially dislike anyone sweeping my pieces off the board without my permission."

Since he also wants to get involved... then let's have a good go at him.

"If he really is a powerful dragon crossing the river..." Wu Jun tapped the armrest lightly with his fingertip, "then this chess game in the capital will be even more exciting with him as a participant."

His gaze suddenly turned sharp as a knife, and his tone instantly plummeted to icy cold.

"But what if... he's just a naive and ignorant mudfish..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but the sudden, bone-chilling coldness he exuded said it all.

"The chess in the capital is not something that ordinary people can play."

Wu Jun's last words were light and airy, yet they carried immense weight, especially... the chess pieces I played.

The moment the words left his mouth, the temperature in the entire room seemed to drop several degrees, becoming as cold as a hospital morgue, filled with an invisible, suffocating fear.

The young woman standing behind him, who had been massaging his shoulders, turned deathly pale with fright at the sudden, chilling murderous intent emanating from her.

Then her legs went weak, and she collapsed to her knees with a thud on the soft, expensive carpet, her body trembling uncontrollably, not daring to lift her head.

Wu Jun seemed oblivious, or rather, completely unconcerned.

His gaze had once again turned to the deep night outside the window, his eyes unfathomable, as if he could already see where the next piece would be placed on the chessboard.

In another patch of sunlight, amidst the many watchful eyes, stood an elegant figure with an icy expression. Her gaze was particularly striking—clear, sharp, and carrying a hint of barely perceptible inquiry and confusion.

Inside the villa of Yan Chongshan, the son of Mr. Yan, is a stylishly decorated study that blends Chinese elegance with modern comfort.

Yan Rugo, the daughter of the Yan family, privately known as the "Cold Princess" in the industry, is sitting alone on a soft chair by the window.

Outside the window was a meticulously maintained courtyard, yet it couldn't hide the desolation of winter. But her gaze was unfocused, her thoughts clearly already wandering far away.

She wore a well-tailored cashmere dress in a muted, hazy blue color, which made her skin appear even whiter and gave her an even more aloof and elegant air.

His exquisite face was expressionless, like a fine white jade sculpture. Only his clear yet deep eyes occasionally flashed with a fleeting, elusive thought, like an undercurrent surging beneath an icy lake.

The title "Cold Princess" is not without reason.

Firstly, it was because of his previous confrontation with Chen Yifeng over the Tengfei and Zeng Lingyu incident.

Although she used a lot of resources from the Zeng family and through her grandfather's connections that time, she managed to make Chen Yifeng suffer a small loss and lose face.

However, the difficulty of the process and the ruthlessness of the methods have made many of his peers in the industry gasp in surprise and hesitate to try.

Secondly, there is her innate, icy aura that seems to isolate her from all noise and passion.

That coldness wasn't a pretense, but a deep-seated aloofness and indifference, as if nothing could truly stir her emotions.

Even someone as proud as Chen Yifeng, who tried several times to approach and curry favor with her, ultimately failed and returned dejectedly after receiving her chillingly indifferent responses.

At this moment, the "cold princess" was repeatedly analyzing all the information she had just learned about the "Zeng Long incident" in her mind.

She had personally witnessed and acknowledged the immense power of Chen Yifeng's abilities and the resources he controlled.

Last time, she had to use almost all her strength to barely win by half a move, and she vaguely felt that it was because Chen Yifeng had not really fought her to the death and had held back some things.

But what about Zeng Long?

A student who had just transferred to Beijing Tsinghua University and seemed to have no background or connections.

Faced with Chen Yifeng's meticulously crafted, deadly trap, which utilized resources from multiple parties—

Online smear campaigns, academic framing, pressure from those in power, and even resorting to shady underground tactics... this is almost a comprehensive siege!

The results of it?

Zeng Long not only escaped unscathed, but also achieved a stunning reversal in an almost overwhelming manner!

Not only did he clear his name, but he also caused heavy losses to Chen Yifeng's camp, with many important pawns being eliminated. Even his grandfather, Old Chen, was forced to personally come forward and bring his grandson to apologize!

What incredible energy and skill that requires!

Yan Ruge's slender fingers unconsciously tapped lightly on the armrest.

She acknowledged that Minister Li Weiguo's all-out efforts in maneuvering and counterattacking must have been involved.

However, based on her understanding of Li Weiguo's style of handling things,

And from the snippets of conversation she occasionally overheard from her grandfather, Yan Fushan, about higher-level power struggles, she astutely gleaned a crucial piece of information:

Li Weiguo's counterattack was so precise, efficient, and ultimately approved by his superiors because...

Its core driving force and key turning point seem to vaguely point to that young man who appears to be at the center of the storm—Zeng Long himself.

It was as if he was the one making the moves, while Li Weiguo was more like his collaborator, or rather, his executor in public.

This discovery stirred a genuine ripple in Yan Rugo's usually cool and aloof eyes.

She suddenly realized that this young man named Zeng Long was shrouded in too much mystery.

He's so mysterious.

This mystery doesn't seem like a deliberate disguise, but rather more like... an unfathomable, layered essence.

Why would Li Weiguo go to such lengths to protect him? And even be willing to use him as the core of his counterattack? It's definitely not just about admiration.

Why would Zeng Lingyu, the beloved little princess of the Zeng family, show such extraordinary concern and eagerness towards Zeng Long? That protectiveness seemed almost instinctive.

Zeng Long's eyes... During that brief encounter, the way he looked at me was deep and calm, yet it seemed to see through everything, carrying a sense of vicissitude that was completely out of character for his age, and... a certain indescribable sense of familiarity.

Upon closer reflection, his facial features seemed to share a vague yet lingering resemblance to someone…

His astonishing calm in the face of being framed, and then his sudden, unbelievable disappearance.

The shrewdness of his counterattack, the cunning angles he used, the extraordinary skills he displayed against those gangsters, and his unbelievably brilliant academic achievements…

And then there's Grandpa Yan Fushan, who, when he casually mentioned "this young comrade Zeng Long is no ordinary person," revealed a rare, undisguised admiration and recognition in his tone…

All this "excellence," all this "coincidence," is like a series of isolated threads, floating haphazardly in the air. There must be some unknown, powerful connection between them!

Yan Ruge attempted to connect these threads and weave a reasonable explanation.

However, whenever she felt she had touched upon a crucial point, the clue would vanish like a slippery fish into the depths of her mind.

She seemed to have discovered many unusual fragments, but when she tried to piece them together, she found that her hands were empty and she had grasped nothing.

This feeling of being unable to control or see through things is extremely rare and... fascinating for Yan Rugo, who is used to calm analysis and keen insight.

A strong curiosity and desire to explore, like a tender sprout breaking through the soil, quietly grew in the usually calm and undisturbed lake of her heart.

She slightly furrowed her beautiful brows, and her cool gaze gradually became sharp and firm.

She decided she had to unravel this mystery. She would personally meet Zeng Long, this enigmatic figure who seemed to have appeared out of nowhere yet had stirred up the deep waters of the capital.

She wanted to see what truth was hidden beneath that calm, even somewhat languid, facade.

Outside the window, night was deepening. Yan Ruge picked up her silent phone, and the screen lit up, illuminating her stunning yet aloof profile.

Her slender fingers slid lightly across the screen, as if she were searching for something, or perhaps hesitating about how to take the first step.