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

Top floor of Jinglong Club.

Chen Yifeng had been standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window for nearly two hours.

The whiskey glass in his hand was already empty, and the ice had long since melted, but he was completely unaware.

Gunshots, explosions, deaths at Shangyiju... These fragmented messages reached his ears through various channels.

Each one made his heart tighten a little more.

Wu Jun.

The name lingered in his mind like a venomous snake.

He was almost certain that this was Wu Jun's doing.

but……

The very suspicion itself sent chills down his spine.

His initial plan was clear: wait until Wu Jun and Zeng Linglong, these two beasts, fought to the point of mutual exhaustion, then choose sides based on the prevailing winds and seize the greatest benefit.

But now—

This is no longer a "struggle".

This is war.

It was a terrorist attack.

It was an abyss from which even the slightest contact with Chen Yifeng could lead to his utter destruction.

"Don't touch it..."

He muttered to himself, his voice hoarse:

"This muddy water... is not to be touched."

He had no idea.

During the time he was lost in thought—

Outside the clubhouse corridor.

Two elite bodyguards stood with their backs against the wall, their eyes scanning the surroundings warily.

suddenly!

The bodyguard on the left felt a hand gently press on the back of his neck, appearing out of nowhere from the shadows.

The fingertip presses on the exact location of the carotid sinus.

The bodyguard's eyes rolled back, and his body went limp.

The bodyguard on the right sensed something was wrong and was about to turn his head—

His other hand was already covering his mouth and nose!

A piece of gauze soaked in high-concentration ether was pressed firmly against his face.

two seconds.

The body went limp.

Silently knocked down.

Immediately afterwards—

In the monitoring room, three security guards stared at the screen.

One of them suddenly frowned: "Why is the video feed in corridor number 3 freezing?"

The voice just fell.

"laugh--!"

A slight sound, like a balloon deflating.

Three blowguns were fired from the gaps in the ventilation grille, accurately hitting the back of the necks of the three men.

The arrowheads were coated with a fast-acting neurotoxin.

Before the three of them could even utter a sound, they collapsed onto the control panel and fell into a deep coma.

The entire security chain—

It was silently cut off within five minutes.

Chen Yifeng remained standing by the window.

He felt a little tired and raised his hand to rub his temples.

Completely unaware—

A figure, like a ghost, stood behind him.

Distance: 30 centimeters.

The shadow did not breathe—or rather, his breathing frequency was deliberately adjusted to be completely synchronized with Chen Yifeng's.

Chen Yifeng exhaled, and he inhaled.

Chen Yifeng inhaled, and then he exhaled.

The faint air currents of their breaths canceled each other out, so much so that even the most sensitive sound wave detector could not distinguish that they were breathing from two different people.

The shadow just stood there.

Do not move.

He remained silent.

Like a true "shadow," it clung to Chen Yifeng's back.

His demon mask, with its blue face and fangs, gleamed with a cold, glazed sheen in the dim light streaming in from the window.

Behind the eye holes of the mask, a pair of emotionless eyes silently stared at the back of Chen Yifeng's head.

It was as if they were admiring the prey's final moments of peace before its death.

Chen Yifeng finally felt thirsty.

He sighed and prepared to turn around and pour some water.

Body rotation—

The gaze shifts from the night view outside the window to the dimly lit interior space.

Then--

His pupils contracted to the size of a pinhead in a fraction of a second!

A terrifying ghost face with blue skin, fangs, deep black eyes, and a mouth stretched to the ears was almost pressed against the tip of his nose!

The mask's icy aura sprayed onto his face!

"ah--!!!"

Chen Yifeng's scream got stuck in his throat, turning into a broken, croaking sound like a rooster being strangled!

His legs instantly lost all strength!

"Thump!"

He collapsed to the ground, limp as a puddle of melted wax!

His back slammed heavily onto the carpet, the impact so strong that all the air was forced out of his lungs!

My clothes were instantly soaked with cold sweat!

Every hair on my body stood on end! Goosebumps spread from my feet to my scalp!

My heart was pounding wildly in my chest, almost bursting!

And that ghostly face—

As if drawn by a magnet, it remained pressed tightly against his face as he collapsed!

The eyes behind the mask calmly looked down at his face, which was contorted with extreme fear.

Then--

A hand wearing a black tactical glove emerges from the darkness.

Cold fingers, like iron clamps, gripped Chen Yifeng's throat.

Slowly tighten.

They lifted him off the ground.

His feet left the ground, and he swayed weakly.

Chen Yifeng rolled his eyes back, stuck out his tongue, and tried to scratch at the other hand in vain, as if scratching steel.

"I really want to... kill you right now."

A voice rang out.

Hoarse, dry, like two rusty pieces of metal rubbing together, or like a demon crawling out of a grave whispering.

"But tonight..."

"The list at Yama's place... is already full."

His fingers loosened slightly.

Chen Yifeng took a deep breath like a broken bellows, and tears, snot, and saliva gushed out together.

"Then..."

"I'll grant you seven days of lifespan."

With his other hand outstretched, he held a dark red pill the size of a soybean between his index finger and thumb.

They roughly pried open Chen Yifeng's mouth with their fingers and shoved the pill deep into his throat!

Then she covered his mouth tightly with her other hand and pinched his nose with her other hand!

"Ugh... Ugh—!!"

Chen Yifeng struggled desperately, but the feeling of suffocation made him instinctively swallow.

"Gulp."

The pill was swallowed.

Release your grip.

Chen Yifeng collapsed to his knees, coughing violently, trying to vomit up the pills, but it was too late.

That demonic voice rang in his ear again:

"What I ate... was a very good 'tonic'."

"Seven days later..."

"It will make you so 'replenish' that... all your muscles will burst open."

"The blood vessels... will also burst one by one."

"rest assured……"

The voice carried an eerie "gentleness":

You are not alone.

"Someone... will be with you."

"I'll be coming to 'keep you company' for the next seven days..."

"Hahaha……"

A low, hoarse laugh, like the hooting of an owl, echoed in the room.

Then--

"Clang."

A soft sound of metal rubbing together.

A short sword with a blade gleaming with a cold, eerie blue light appeared in Ghost Face's hand.

The tip of the knife gently pressed against the skin of Chen Yifeng's throat.

Slowly move sideways.

It's not a cut.

It is a line.

Like a butcher choosing the spot on a live pig to cut, repeatedly measuring and gesturing.

The coldness of the blade penetrated the skin and pierced into the bone marrow.

Chen Yifeng's whole body stiffened, and even his breathing stopped.

Only his lips were trembling.

He could clearly feel the trajectory of each movement of the blade, that subtle, agonizing touch.

suddenly!

The masked man raised his knife!

It slammed down hard towards Chen Yifeng's head!

The flash of the blade rapidly magnified in Chen Yifeng's pupils!

"No--!!!"

He let out a silent, desperate scream in his heart!

His eyes were tightly shut!

The excruciating pain of waiting for my head to be split open—

however.

There was only a very slight, almost imperceptible sensation, like a gentle breeze.

A few strands of hair fell from his head and landed on the back of his trembling hand.

Chen Yifeng was stunned.

He suddenly opened his eyes.

His hands frantically reached for his head and throat—

There was no blood.

The skin is intact.

Only the center of his head had a neat, two-finger-wide "bald spot" cut out by a sharp blade.

And in front of me—

No one is empty.

The demon mask disappeared.

It was as if it had never existed.

Chen Yifeng collapsed to the ground, breathing heavily, his whole body drenched in cold sweat.

He raised his hand with trembling hands, looking at the few strands of his own hair on the back of his hand.

He touched the smooth bald patch on his head again.

"A hallucination...?"

He muttered to himself, his voice broken:

"Was it a dream...?"

But his soaked clothes, his wildly beating heart, and the real touch on his head—all told him that what had just happened had actually occurred.

He struggled to stand up.

When I braced myself on the ground, I touched a piece of paper.

Bow down.

A pure white square piece of paper was stuck to his shirt at some point.

He tore off the piece of paper.

Above, in dark red paint like fresh blood, were eight sharp, menacing characters:

Yama, the King of Hell, is demanding lives.

Gods and ghosts aside

"ah--!!"

Chen Yifeng threw the piece of paper away as if he had been burned!

The piece of paper tumbled in the air before landing.

He scrambled backward, pressed his back against the wall, and curled up into a ball.

Fear, like an icy tide, completely overwhelmed him.

He wanted to make a phone call.

I want to call a bodyguard.

My hand trembled as I reached into my coat pocket—

My phone is gone.

now.

The same terrifying drama is unfolding simultaneously in several other luxury residences in Beijing.

In his study, Wu Chen was choked by a ghostly face that "grew" from the shadows of the bookshelf, fed pills, had a patch of hair shaved off his head, and left behind a blood-written note.

Wu Qian woke up in his bedroom with a start and saw a ghost standing at the head of the bed looking down at him. He was so frightened that he fainted on the spot. While he was unconscious, he was given medicine, had his hair shaved, and was given a note.

While He Ziming was taking a shower in the bathroom, a ghostly face suddenly appeared in the mirror. He screamed and fell to the ground, and was dragged out of the bathroom to complete the "ritual".

Liu Sheng met with a scion of a powerful family who had a grudge against Yan Hai. The two were in different places—both had had their fill of partying outside—and were about to drive home when they opened the car door. Ghost Face sat up from the shadows in the back seat, his blade pressed against the back of their necks.

Six people.

Six elaborately designed and terrifying rituals.

Six "Death warrants from the King of Hell".

Seven-day countdown to the end of his lifespan—

Start simultaneously.