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

Six o'clock in the evening, at the Tengge Hall of Yuetingyuan.

The crystal chandelier cast a golden glow onto the marble floor, and figures in suits moved about in droves. Compared to the last exchange meeting, the wealthy businessmen and scions of prominent families from across the country present tonight displayed less arrogance and more reverence.

When they talked to each other, they deliberately kept their voices low, and their smiles were filled with cautious probing.

"Mr. Wang, I heard that your mine in southern Yunnan has recently..."

"Oh, not at all, it's just a small business. Young Master Li's family's business in the Nanzhen Science Park is much bigger..."

Humility and affability set the tone for the evening. Everyone remembered Han Pangzi's fate that night—simply because he was blind to the danger, he offended Ye Zhenkang and his wife, people Zeng Long considered like uncles. Overnight, he was in jail, and his entire family business collapsed instantly. Here, no one dared to be sure whether the smiling stranger raising his glass before them was backed by another "Zeng Long."

What made everyone's hearts race even faster was the confirmation message from Tengao on their phones:

[The initial investment has yielded a 200% return, which will be settled tonight.]

Simple numbers, yet they made countless people's palms sweat. They initially invested money simply to connect with Zeng Long and Teng Ao, never imagining...

"It's doubled..." a textile tycoon from the Pearl River Delta whispered to his companion, his fingers unconsciously stroking his wine glass. "I invested 500 million, and tonight I'll get 1.5 billion back. That's more than we could earn in ten years of hard work..."

He didn't finish his sentence, but the shock in his eyes said it all.

The entire Tengge Hall was filled with a restrained fervor. People talked about the two trillion yuan that had already been received by Longyu Group, about the "Longyu City" that was about to rise in the Jingtong District, and about the booming construction wave in provinces such as Tianguang and Haining after Longyu's capital injection.

Everyone's gaze kept drifting towards Teng Ao's direction, a place representing unparalleled glory and wealth. At the same time, their eyes also fell on the door to Zeng Long's private room.

That place represents taboos and supreme power.

At this moment, the scene inside the private room was quite different.

Under the soft light, Ye Zhenkang and Zhou Simin were having a pleasant conversation with Secretary Lin and his wife. Exquisite tea and snacks were laid out on the table, and the aroma of tea wafted through the air.

The two sets of parents chatted happily, while their eyes were turned to the other side of the private room.

There, Zeng Long, Ye Feng, Tie Zhu, and Lin Xiaoya were sitting together.

There was no serious planning or struggle as outsiders might imagine, only the playful banter and teasing between brothers and sisters.

"Brother Tiezhu, did you have a midnight snack again last night?" Lin Xiaoya poked Tiezhu's strong arm.

Tie Zhu scratched his head sheepishly, "I was just too hungry last night, I couldn't resist..."

"I accidentally ate all the pig's trotters in the fridge!" Ye Feng raised an eyebrow. "That's more than ten pig's trotters, a week's worth."

The crowd laughed.

Zeng Long watched this scene quietly, a faint smile on his lips. He held a glass of warm water in his hand, not participating in the laughter and commotion, but his relaxed demeanor was something no outsider had ever seen before.

Ye Zhenkang's eyes welled up as he watched his son interact with these brothers who had shared life and death. He whispered to his wife, "Our son... is so lucky."

Zhou Simin gently took his hand and nodded.

They knew that the bond forged between these four men in the flames of war had long transcended blood ties. It was a trust that allowed them to completely entrust their descendants to each other.

The waiters began serving the dishes, and the exquisite dishes filled the rotating tray.

"Come, Academician Lin, let me toast you." Ye Zhenkang raised his glass.

"No, no, it's my turn to toast you," Lin Shucheng quickly raised his glass to Ye Zhenkang and his wife...

The wine glasses clinked lightly, producing a crisp sound.

Outside the private room, a grand feast of a business empire unfolds; inside, a heartwarming moment of family reunion after a brush with death.

Meanwhile, in the northern part of the Dragon Kingdom, in a remote mountain village thousands of kilometers away from the capital, a tragic human drama is unfolding.

Here, the night is as dark as ink, and the cold wind is as sharp as a knife.

Nestled quietly in a mountain valley, the small village has dozens of mud-brick houses crammed together in a crooked and dilapidated manner, and the air is filled with the smell of poverty.

The old locust tree at the village entrance has been dead for many years. Its trunk is twisted and cracked, like a skeleton reaching towards the sky. Where the bark has peeled away, grayish-white wood is exposed, with blurred characters carved on it—the wishes and curses of the villagers over the decades, now dead along with the tree.

At the westernmost end of the village, there was a mud-brick house that was more dilapidated than the others.

Large patches of plaster had peeled off the walls, revealing yellow soil mixed with wheat straw underneath. The thatched roof was sparse from the wind, revealing the blackened rafters underneath. The wooden door was askew, its hinges creaking and groaning.

Inside, it was as dark as dusk.

A middle-aged man was lying on the earthen bed.

He is forty-five years old, but looks like he is sixty.

His face was covered with deep wrinkles, the marks of years of exposure to wind and sun. His skin was dark and rough, his lips were chapped and cracked, oozing blood. Most shocking were his chest and arms—covered with purplish bruises, with obvious indentations in his ribs, and his left arm bent at an unnatural angle.

He was panting.

With each inhale, his chest heaved violently, producing a hoarse, bellowing sound. With each exhale, dark red blood foam spilled from the corner of his mouth.

His eyes were half-open, his gaze unfocused, yet he stared intently at the low roof beam—as if trying to bore a hole through it.

A girl was kneeling in front of the kang (a heated brick bed).

When she was thirteen or fourteen years old, everyone in the village called her "Little Pomegranate".

She wore a faded, tattered cotton-padded jacket with frayed cuffs that revealed her slender wrists. Her trousers were too short, exposing her ankles, which showed fresh abrasions.

The girl's face was dirty, and two clean streaks of tears were left on her face...