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

Evening, Beijing, Shangyiju Clubhouse.

This private club, located in the heart of the business district and known for its understated luxury, is brightly lit tonight, its lights shining like stars.

The cars parked neatly along the driveway in front of the gate were no longer ordinary luxury cars, but a row of black sedans with special license plates or purely numerical license plates, silent and dignified.

Inside the club, the largest hall, "Lingyun," was already packed with distinguished guests.

Led by Teng Ao and Yan Ruge, almost all the young elites from Beijing's top circles were present.

The men were either wearing well-tailored, bespoke suits!

Or perhaps they're wearing a low-key yet high-quality Chinese-style stand-up collar!

His demeanor exudes a composure and sense of propriety that he has been exposed to since childhood!

But at this moment, the usual reserve and composure on their faces were replaced by an irrepressible excitement and eagerness.

The female guests were impeccably made up, dressed elegantly, and their jewelry shimmered subtly under the lights. As they chatted in hushed tones, their gazes would inevitably drift toward the entrance.

The air was filled with a unique aroma, a blend of top-quality cigars, perfumes, and a certain restless anticipation.

Everyone's attention is focused on waiting for the same person—

Zeng Linglong.

The club owner, He Feng, was wearing a brand-new Armani suit, his hair was neatly combed, and his face was flushed with excitement.

He was like a light butterfly, flitting among the "important people" who used to need his attention.

"Uncle, if there's anything else I can help with, please let me know!"

"Mr. He, oh no, Uncle! Thank you for your hard work tonight!"

"Uncle, when is Brother Long arriving? We're all eagerly waiting!"

The repeated calls of "Little Uncle" made He Feng feel weak in the knees, as if he were floating on clouds.

Even Teng Ao and Yan Ruge, two young giants who were already "enormous" in his eyes, treated him with great courtesy and respect.

This unprecedented respect and status made him dizzy, and he knew all of this stemmed from his yet-to-be-seen great-nephew.

While feeling elated, a heavy pressure also followed.

He found the club manager, pulled him to a secluded corner, his smile vanished, and his eyes became extremely serious, even stern.

"Listen..."

He Feng lowered his voice, each word sounding as if squeezed out from between his teeth.

"Tonight...everyone better be on your best!"

"Keep your eyes peeled! Be quick and efficient! Provide impeccable service!"

Tonight is my nephew's celebration dinner, "if something goes wrong..."

He stared into the manager's eyes.

"I'll skin you alive!"

"Get the hell out of here!"

A bead of sweat instantly appeared on the general manager's forehead, and he nodded repeatedly, "Yes! Yes! Don't worry, boss! There won't be any mistakes!"

Watching the general manager hurriedly set up the equipment, He Feng wiped away non-existent sweat from his forehead, but his heart was still pounding.

My dear nephew...you'd better come and make things right now!

Tonight, countless eyes in Beijing, whether open or hidden, are focused on this clubhouse called "Shangyiju".

Those forces, families, and elders who truly control the pulse of this land are all watching quietly.

Everyone knew that this was more than just a simple "return celebration dinner".

This is Zeng Linglong, the third-generation prodigy of the Zeng family!

After mysteriously disappearing for eighteen years and stirring up a storm with swift and decisive actions, he made his first public and high-profile appearance in Beijing's top social circles as a "descendant of the Zeng family"!

This means that the once ruthless and mysterious "dragon crossing the river" now has the support of the towering Zeng family.

The Zeng family was one of the top clans standing at the pinnacle of the Dragon Kingdom, with unfathomable depths of influence.

Zeng Linglong has already demonstrated formidable power and skill.

A powerful alliance is like adding wings to a tiger!

From tonight onwards, the landscape of Beijing's younger generation will be rewritten.

The title "Three Young Masters of Beijing" will become history.

Because the fourth young master—Zeng Linglong—has entered the scene with overwhelming momentum!

He is no longer just a "mysterious strongman" who inspires awe among his peers.

Instead, it is a heavyweight player that the older generation and the true core of power in the capital must take seriously, assess, and even readjust their strategies!

The news spread like ripples, stirring up a huge wave in the deep courtyards, secret meeting rooms, and even some heavily guarded offices of prominent families in Beijing.

Those families that were already closely connected with the Zeng family and helped each other, or those forces that had already made shrewd bets and established close ties with Teng Ao, Yan Hai, and others, felt an unprecedented sense of excitement and exhilaration.

The younger generation in the family are eager to get started, as if they see a broader stage and a more solid backing.

"Following in Linglong's footsteps, the revival of our clan is just around the corner!" A clan elder slammed his fist on the table, his eyes gleaming.

There are also those who are observing from the sidelines.

Most factions chose to wait and see, secretly gathering more detailed information about Zeng Linglong!

Assess his personality, preferences, style of doing things, and... the deeper intentions of the Zeng family and even higher levels behind his high-profile appearance.

The waters of the capital city began to surge with undercurrents and whirlpools with the formal arrival of one person.

In the Western Hills, there is a quiet and heavily guarded courtyard house.

The main light in the study was off; only an antique-style palace lamp on the desk emitted a soft, dim glow.

A tall, handsome young man stood quietly by the window, his back to the light.

Outside the window was a meticulously maintained garden at night, but his gaze seemed to pierce through the layers of rooftops and trees, landing on the dazzling lights—the direction of Shangyi Residence.

He is Kong Zhuo, one of the "Three Young Masters" of the younger generation in the capital, who is like a legend.

Kong Changsun was raised by his grandfather, who once stood at the pinnacle of power in the Dragon Kingdom, and was carefully taught by him from a young age. His vision, temperament, and skills were truly the best among his peers.

His face was sharply defined in the shadows, with a high nose and lips pressed into a thin line. His eyes were calm and still, yet as deep as an ancient well, as if they could absorb all light and emotion.

"Zeng Long..."

He spoke softly, his voice clear and steady, as if he were savoring the name.

"No, now it should be called... Zeng, Ling, Long."

He slowly pronounced the three words, each syllable carrying a unique rhythm.

"Your identity earlier... surprised me, though."

"But now, there's this character 'Ling' in the middle..."

He tilted his head slightly, and the light from the palace lantern cast a clear shadow on one side of his straight nose.

"It seems..."

"I have to... witness it with my own eyes..."

"Your 'true face' has been revealed."

His tone was flat, revealing neither joy nor anger.

But behind those words lies the implication that Zeng Linglong is considered an equal and must be personally examined and evaluated.

On the other side of the city, a heavily guarded old house.

Luo Haoran—another "Third Young Master"—was standing in the spacious dressing room.

He seemed more easygoing than Kong Zhuo, dressed in comfortable casual wear, facing a huge full-length mirror, carefully adjusting his cuffs.

In the mirror, he was handsome, with a faint, gentle smile habitually playing on his lips, but his eyes were bright and sharp, as if they could see right through people.

An elderly man who looked like a butler stood respectfully behind him with his hands at his sides.

"Young Master, the car is ready," the butler reminded him softly.

"Hmm." Luo Haoran responded, his gaze still fixed on himself in the mirror.

He casually picked up the Patek Philippe watch from the tray next to him, put it on slowly and gracefully.

"Shangyi Residence..."

He looked in the mirror and smiled slightly, a smile that was more genuine than before, carrying a hint of playfulness and anticipation.

"It's more interesting to see things for yourself than to be caught up in them."

He turned around, took the dark gray cashmere coat handed to him by the butler, and casually draped it over his arm.

Tell the old man I'm going out for a bit.

"Let's go meet...our newly appointed 'Fourth Young Master'."

His tone was relaxed, as if he were just going to a regular party.

But beneath that composure lay a level of seriousness and competitive spirit that was in no way inferior to Kong Zhuo's, which was equally evident.

Wu Jun, one of the last of the Three Young Masters of the Capital.

Inside his office.

The heavy curtains were drawn tightly, completely blocking out the dazzling night view outside the window.

Only a pale white desk lamp was on in the room, its light concentrated on the large desk area, illuminating half of Wu Jun's sinister face in bright light and plunging the other half into complete darkness, making it appear particularly eerie.

The assistant remained respectfully bowed as he stood before the table. The wound on his forehead had been simply treated and was covered with gauze, and his face was even paler than before.

Wu Jun leaned back in his high-backed chair, slowly exhaling a smoke ring, a cold, resentful, and slightly morbidly excited smile curving his lips.

"I thought..."

"He will never... show his face again."

He raised his eyelids, his gaze like the forked tongue of a viper, licking across his assistant's pale face.

"I should go..."

"I met him in person."

He flicked his cigarette ash, a very light movement, yet it carried a casualness that seemed to decide life and death.

"tonight……"

"He is already... qualified."

He paused for a moment, then stubbed out the cigarette in the crystal ashtray, which was already overflowing with cigarette butts, with a soft "sizzle".

Then, in an almost gentle tone, yet one that sent chills down the assistant's spine, he softly added:

"Let's just say it's..."

Let's see him one last time.

The air in the office instantly dropped to freezing point.

The assistant lowered his head even further, and his body trembled almost imperceptibly.

He knew that the young master was not just going to "meet".

It's to identify the prey.

It's to... deliver the final death notice.

The lights of Shangyi Residence were dazzling and bright, and the house was full of guests.

Under the deep night sky of the capital, several undercurrents, distinct in nature yet equally powerful, are silently and swiftly converging from different directions toward the brightest spot.