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

Outside the base, in Beijing.

Night is the best disguise.

Two black minivans, like water droplets merging into the asphalt road, silently drove into an old factory area slated for demolition.

The car door slid open.

Twelve figures, like silhouettes emerging from the darkness, silently stepped onto the ground.

They wore ordinary dark jackets or casual wear, and their figures varied, but each of them moved with a precision and coordination etched into their very bones, like killing machines that had been calibrated a million times.

The two leaders had distinctly different demeanors.

The man on the left was as wiry and powerful as a cheetah, with short hair standing on end. Even behind his sunglasses, one could sense the icy coldness in his eyes. His codename was "Mad God."

The man on the right is as robust as a bear, with a large frame and muscles that clearly outline his clothes. When he stands silently, he resembles a statue cast in steel. His code name is "King Kong".

Both were powerful masters who lived in the same era as Baroque and were as famous as him.

Behind the two, ten team members stood silently. Their breathing was shallow, their eyes lowered, as if they had blended into the dilapidated surroundings. But if a true expert were present, they could sense the deliberately restrained yet still chillingly deadly aura emanating from them.

These are some of the sharpest fangs of the "Cosmos" organization—the "Knights" Teams Three and Four.

The ten team members are all orphans or "materials" recruited by the organization from all over the world. They are absolute warriors who have been trained, eliminated, and tempered by inhuman means since childhood.

Humanity? It has long been stripped away through endless drugs, hypnosis, brainwashing, and training in killing.

Feelings? Those are just a pretense required for the mission, an unnecessary burden.

Their sole purpose is absolute obedience and efficient killing.

Mad God slowly took off his sunglasses.

What was revealed were a pair of light gray eyes, as desolate and cold as the Siberian tundra. He glanced at the abandoned factory buildings serving as a temporary safe house and said in a low voice in slightly broken but fluent Chinese:

"Check the environment, establish defenses, and remain silent and ready to act."

"Waiting for instructions."

"Yes." The ten people behind him replied in unison, their voices deep and resonant like muffled thunder, yet so soft they were almost carried away by the night breeze.

King Kong also removed his sunglasses, revealing a pair of deep brown, beast-like, indifferent eyes. He twisted his thick neck, making a slight "crack" sound, and added in equally broken Chinese:

"Remember your 'faces'."

"From this moment on, you are 'people of the Dragon Kingdom'."

"Until... I need to become 'myself' again."

The team members nodded silently. They had already altered their original exotic features through superb makeup and even minor adjustments, and now looked no different from the young Chinese people commonly seen on the street.

The twelve figures dispersed like ghosts, disappearing into the shadows of the factory.

In the blink of an eye, all sound and breath disappeared.

Only deep within the abandoned factory buildings, a few low-power infrared sensors, like the eyes of lurking beasts, glowed faintly in the absolute darkness, then slowly went out.

Inside a dimly lit office.

Wu Jun sat in a large leather chair, with an ashtray in front of him piled high with cigarette butts.

The office had no main light on, only a dim desk lamp, which shrouded half of his face in shadow, while the other half remained hidden in darkness, making him appear particularly sinister and distorted.

His assistant, however, was tense all over, with fine beads of cold sweat on his forehead and temples, dampening a few strands of his neatly combed hair. He was slightly hunched over, his hands hanging at his sides, his fingers trembling slightly uncontrollably.

"You mean...?"

Wu Jun's voice rang out, smooth and slow, yet like a venomous snake crawling across ice, devoid of any human warmth.

"Zeng Linglong... he's 'disappeared' again?"

"That girl... 'Xiaoya,' and that big guy 'Tiezhu'... also 'disappeared'?"

His fingers tapped lightly on the smooth tabletop.

"Yes...yes." They vanished without a trace, as if they had evaporated into thin air.

"vanished into thin air?"

Wu Jun repeated the word, then suddenly chuckled softly.

Laughter echoed in the quiet office, but it was more chilling than angry shouts.

The next second—

"Bang--!!!"

Wu Jun suddenly grabbed the heavy tempered glass ashtray on the table and, without warning, smashed it hard against his assistant's forehead with all his might!

The assistant didn't even have time to react, and didn't even dare to dodge!

"Bang!"

A muffled thud!

The rim of the ashtray cut a shallow gash on the assistant's forehead, scattering ash and unextinguished cigarette butts all over him.

Fresh blood immediately seeped from the wound, pooling into beads, and slowly slid down his temples and cheeks.

The assistant swayed violently, his vision blurred, and his ears rang. But he clenched his teeth, swallowing back the cry of pain that was about to escape his lips!

He didn't even dare to raise his hand to cover his wound.

Instead, he quickly pulled a clean handkerchief from his suit pocket, trembling, but precisely pressed it below the wound to prevent blood from dripping and soiling the expensive handmade carpet beneath his feet.

His waist bent into an even deeper arc, almost folding in half.

Fresh blood quickly soaked through the white handkerchief, spreading a glaring red.

Wu Jun seemed oblivious to the bloodstains, as well as his assistant's pale face and suppressed pain. He leaned back in his chair, his eyes, hidden in the shadows, coldly fixed on the other man.

"Let 'Hidden One'..."

Wu Jun's voice remained cold and calm.

"Send out all his 'eyes' and 'ears'...to all of them."

"Didn't you say earlier that those arrogant and spoiled brats in the capital... were going to hold some kind of 'return celebration' for him?"

"Location found."

"Keep a close eye on every person involved."

He paused, then his tone suddenly became more forceful, like an ice pick piercing to the bone:

"in addition……"

"Find out the whereabouts of everyone around him... Yan Rugo, Yan Hai, Zeng Lingyu, Teng Ao, and his roommates."

"Nothing is too small or too big."

He looked at the still-bleeding wound on his assistant's forehead and his utterly humble posture, and finally added:

"if……"

"Not yet."

"You... should end it yourself."

"yes……!"

The assistant's voice was forced from deep in his throat, tinged with blood and absolute fear.

He held the handkerchief, which was mostly stained with blood, in both hands, maintaining his bowed posture. His steps were unsteady, but he tried his best to keep quiet as he backed away from the office.

The door closed gently.

The office fell silent once more.

Wu Jun lit a new cigarette, the scarlet flame flickering uncertainly in the darkness. A venomous yet expectant smile curved his lips.

"Zeng Linglong..."

"You should have disappeared completely eighteen years ago..."