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

Inside Yan Chonghua's villa in Beijing, the lights were on. Yan Hai, the young master of the Yan family, was reclining on an expensive leather sofa, holding his phone, his face a mixture of excitement and a barely perceptible eagerness.

"Yang Li, are you sure about the news? Are Zeng Linglong's (fake) lackeys who used to follow him around like a shadow really going to Yue Ting Yuan tonight?" Yan Hai's voice rose slightly with excitement.

A confirmation voice came from the other end of the phone:

Brother Hai, it's absolutely true! I asked around and confirmed that those guys did indeed make a reservation.

But... Brother Hai, could there be a trap here?

Ever since that fake Zeng Linglong got into trouble, these bastards have been avoiding you like the plague. Now they've suddenly made a high-profile appearance at Yue Ting Yuan? Everyone knows that Teng Ao has a close relationship with your family now. Aren't they just walking into a trap?

Upon hearing this, Yan Hai frowned, his excitement fading and replaced by a hint of doubt.

Yang Li was right; something was definitely off about this. But when he thought back to a few years ago, when that imposter Zeng Linglong and his cronies bullied him and publicly humiliated him because of their numbers, a long-suppressed anger suddenly surged up in his heart.

The humiliation of being bullied by a counterfeiter and his lackeys has always been a thorn in his heart, an unhealable scar.

He gritted his teeth and said fiercely into the phone:

"A trap? Even if it's a trap, I'm still going! Even if it's a den of dragons and tigers, I'll go and meet them tonight! If you're a true brother, come with me! I want to see what tricks they have up their sleeves!"

Yan Hai was so fearless because there was an unwritten rule within Beijing's social circles:

As long as no one dies or irreparable injury occurs, the elders usually do not directly intervene in the conflicts and disputes between the younger generation, leaving it entirely to the younger generation to resolve on their own.

This is both a form of training and a buffer to avoid direct conflict between families. Yan Hai had already declared that he would beat those people up every time he saw them.

Tonight was the perfect opportunity to fulfill his "promise." A ruthless glint flashed in his eyes as he began making phone calls to gather his men.

Meanwhile, in an elegant residential building in downtown Beijing, the atmosphere was rather somber.

Hao Yuan, the pillar of the Hao family and Hao Shuai's father, was sitting in his study with a furrowed brow and an ashtray piled high with cigarette butts in front of him.

He had just finished a phone call from an old friend who worked within the system. The friend, speaking in a somber tone, told him that his nomination for promotion to Speaker of the District Council had encountered unprecedented resistance.

Several leaders who had previously been ambiguous in their stance but had not explicitly opposed him suddenly joined forces and used a fabricated, named whistleblower letter as a pretext to suppress him.

Hao Yuan was completely baffled. He was a cautious and diligent person, and he was certain that he had no fault to speak of.

This sudden shift in the wind direction must have deeper reasons behind it.

He had a vague feeling that this was not directed at him personally, but rather a ripple effect of some larger strategic game.

He no longer dares to hope for a promotion; he only hopes to weather this storm and that keeping his current position as deputy speaker will be a blessing.

If one is not careful, they may be transferred to a sinecure department and retire prematurely.

This invisible political pressure left him feeling physically and mentally exhausted. He didn't even have much interest in paying attention to the seemingly ordinary class dinner that his son, Hao Shuai, was going to attend that evening.

A dark cloud has already descended upon the family.

In a secluded underground casino somewhere in Beijing, smoke swirls and the air is thick with the pungent smell of banknotes, sweat, and cheap cigarettes.

At a dominoes table surrounded by people, a haggard-looking, stubble-faced middle-aged man with bloodshot eyes stared intently at the dice in his hand.

He was the dealer at this table, but his luck had run out. He had lost several rounds in a row and was now penniless. He had also lost all of the more than 300,000 yuan he had borrowed at high interest rates.

His hands trembled as he picked up the dice, wanting to continue to the next round. The gambler's madness had completely taken over his mind, clouded by his losses.

He looked at the nearly 700,000 to 800,000 yuan in cash piled up in the other three seats on the gambling table, and greed and the desire to win back his losses burned his reason.

"Hey, dealer! Are you going to stay on the dealer's side or not? There are no more chips left on the table!" A gambler sitting at the front door urged impatiently.

"Sit! I'm taking this seat!" The middle-aged man suddenly raised his head, his eyes filled with a kind of reckless madness.

He turned his head and looked at a burly man standing not far away, smoking a cigarette and with a fierce look in his eyes. He was a loan shark at the casino, known as "Brother Jian".

"Brother Jian...can you...can you lend me another 800,000? I'll mortgage my house!" The man's voice was hoarse and pleading.

The burly man, known as Brother Jian, chuckled and exhaled a smoke ring.

"A mortgage? You borrowed 300,000 yesterday, and another 300,000 just now. Your lousy house is worth at most 800,000. How dare you ask to borrow 800,000? If you lose again, how are you going to pay it back?"

Jian walked up to him, lowered his voice, and spoke in a threatening tone:

"Want to borrow? Sure. But let me make this clear: if you can't pay it back tonight, don't blame me for taking you to my place for a 'sit'. You know our rules, and the consequences will be more than you can handle."

The middle-aged man's face was deathly pale, his back soaked with cold sweat, but looking at the pile of money on the gambling table, he finally gritted his teeth, like a drowning man grasping at a last straw: "Lend! I'll lend it!"

Inside the Jinglong Club, Chen Yifeng's private club, he stood in front of the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing at the deepening night outside, his eyes as cold as frost.

Although his grandfather sternly warned him to be patient, the humiliation of the crushing defeat and the inexplicable hatred for Zeng Long gnawed at his heart like a venomous snake.

He used the resources at his disposal to closely monitor every move at Yuetingyuan.

When he learned that Teng Fei and Zeng Lingyu were confirmed to be present, and that Yan Ruge would also be there, and that Zeng Long had even brought several mysterious friends, his suspicions deepened.

How did Zeng Long manage to assemble such a lineup?

"I'll go see for myself," Chen Yifeng muttered to himself, a cold smile curving his lips.

He decided to stop hiding behind the scenes and go to the scene in person to observe his opponent, who had defeated him so badly, up close, to see what magic he possessed and whether tonight's "gathering" would turn into a "good show".

He needs firsthand information to assess what the next step should be.

In one of Zeng Yong's eldest son's courtyards, Zeng Xuan, the second grandson of the old master Zeng, had just hung up the phone, his face showing a mixture of amusement and curiosity.

He received news that his cousin Gao Lin and his two cousins ​​Zeng Yuan and Zeng Ke had gone to Yue Ting Yuan. The reason was that his cousin Zeng Long, who had not yet been recognized by his ancestors, had already stirred up trouble.

Unlike many other young men in the entertainment industry who indulge in pleasure, Zeng Xuan is the second grandson of Zeng Rong. His elder brother, Zeng Wen, served in the military for many years, and he actually helped manage many of the family's affairs in Beijing.

The resources and connections he possesses are not much inferior to those of Chen Yifeng; he is simply more composed and dislikes showing off.

But this time, he developed a strong interest in this mysterious cousin.

The fact that it could make Chen Yifeng suffer a setback and also garner strong support from the Teng family's son... all of this piqued Zeng Xuan's curiosity.

"Prepare the car, we're going to Yueting Garden," he simply ordered. A few phone calls were made, and everything was arranged. He wanted to see his cousin, who had been living away from home for many years, and see if he was truly as extraordinary as the rumors suggested.

His intervention has undoubtedly added another layer of uncertainty to tonight's situation.

Inside the Teng family villa, the study was filled with the aroma of tea, but the atmosphere carried a hint of tension.

Teng Ao stood in front of his grandfather Teng Tian, ​​his tone serious:

"Grandpa, starting this afternoon, my assistant has been receiving messages that many young people in the industry, including Yan Hai, Chen Yifeng, and other heavyweight figures, and even Zeng Xuan from the Zeng family, suddenly want to go to Yue Ting Yuan. The reservation phone has been ringing off the hook, and there isn't a single seat available."

Old Master Teng slowly put down his teacup, a glint of shrewdness flashing in his eyes, and a meaningful smile appeared on his face:

"Heh, it seems that Zeng Long really is a magnet, attracting so many monsters and demons. Xiao Ao, you go over there personally to oversee things immediately."

His expression turned serious, and he instructed:

I have a feeling tonight won't be peaceful. Remember, observe and think things through carefully, and remain calm. If any conflict arises, let's remain neutral until the situation becomes clearer.

But the premise is that we must ensure the safety of Xiaofei, Zeng's girl, and Yan's girl, and prevent them from being affected. Yueting Garden is our territory, and we absolutely cannot allow any major trouble to occur.

"Understood, Grandpa, I'll go right away." Teng Ao nodded solemnly, immediately turned around and left, driving towards Yueting Garden.

He knew that tonight's Yuetingyuan was no longer a simple student dinner, but was about to become a stage for undercurrents among various forces among the younger generation in Beijing.

As evening fell, a different scene unfolded at the entrance of Jingqing University. Several luxury minibuses were neatly parked, and students from the Economics Department, Class 2, boarded the buses one after another with excitement and anticipation. Several senior students, including Sun Xiaomeng, who had been invited, also arrived as scheduled.

The students' faces were beaming with smiles, filled with anticipation for the high-end experience they were about to enter, completely unaware of the turbulent undercurrents they were about to step into.

The minibus slowly started, carrying laughter and chatter, heading towards the brightly lit, yet secretly scheming Yueting Garden. A storm was brewing.