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

Wu Jun's office.

Ye Feng pushed the door open, leaving only a crack about three fingers wide.

There was no standing or spying.

He slowly lay flat on the ground, turning his head to the side, his right eye pressed against the crack in the door—

The view shifts to the interior of the room.

Absolute darkness.

But for Ye Feng, the darkness was like a curtain with its brightness turned down—his night vision was fully activated.

The outline of the depths of the room gradually became clear:

Rosewood office desk.

High-back swivel chair.

On the chair, a figure leaned back, his features relaxed yet retaining his usual sinister curve.

Wu Jun.

He had his eyes closed, with a lit cigarette between his right index and middle fingers, the red glow of the cigarette tip flashing in the darkness.

With the fingers of my left hand, I tap rhythmically on the armrest of the seat.

despair.

despair.

despair.

The intervals between each sound are perfectly synchronized—this is an unconscious habit of those with an extreme need for control.

Ye Feng's body began to move.

It's not about standing up.

Instead, like a boneless loach, it clung to the ground and silently "slid" into the doorway.

Shoulders, torso, hips, legs—sliding across the threshold in sequence.

After entering the room, he gently pushed the door back to a slightly ajar position.

No gaps, no locks.

Then continue gliding.

His body, like a dark liquid, flowed across the floor, around the coffee table, around the bookshelf, and finally—

Slide to the back of Wu Jun's swivel chair.

Stop.

He slowly got up.

Standing.

Adjust your breathing rate—to be completely synchronized with Wu Jun's.

Wu Jun inhaled, Ye Feng exhaled.

Wu Jun exhaled, and Ye Feng inhaled.

The air currents cancel each other out in the silence.

Wu Jun remained with his eyes closed, resting.

The cigarette burned between his fingers, and a long ash accumulated.

Ye Feng took out a pair of delicate small scissors from the tool bag on his side.

The blade gleamed coldly in the darkness.

He stretched out his hand.

The blade of the scissors precisely clamps one centimeter behind the burning point of the cigarette.

Gently close them.

"Snap."

An extremely faint sound, like the snapping of hair.

The smoke from the burning material fell.

Ye Feng's left hand was already waiting below, catching the cigarette in his palm and silently extinguishing it.

Between Wu Jun's fingers, only a bare, neatly cut cigarette holder remained.

Ye Feng put the scissors away.

He then took out a skull model from his waist bag.

The skull's eye sockets and teeth were painted with dark red dye, mimicking dried blood.

He gently placed the skull in the center of the desk.

Next to Wu Jun's elbow.

Then, Ye Feng's gaze fell on the military-grade encrypted satellite phone on the table.

He picked up the phone and checked—the battery was full and the signal was normal.

Put it in the inner pocket of your tactical uniform.

After doing all this.

He retreated behind Wu Jun's chair.

Stand still again.

wait.

Wu Jun's thoughts were focused on the next steps in his strategy against Zeng Linglong.

He raised his right hand and habitually brought the cigarette holder to his lips.

Inhale—

No smoke entered the mouth.

He frowned and took another puff.

It remains empty.

Wu Jun opened his eyes and looked down at his fingers—

There was only a neatly cut cigarette holder.

The smoke disappeared without a trace.

The cut was as smooth as if it had been made with a laser.

His brain paused for half a second.

Not right.

What's wrong?

He suddenly sat up straight!

My gaze unconsciously swept across the desktop—

then.

Freeze.

The pupils contracted violently in an instant!

The skull, stained with "blood," was reflected on the surface of the eyeball, its empty mouth grinning at him.

Wu Jun's body froze completely.

My blood seemed to freeze in an instant!

The hair on my body stood on end, from my tailbone all the way down to the back of my neck!

Cold sweat poured down like ice water from a burst dam, instantly soaking through my shirt!

And in the midst of this extreme horror—

He sensed it.

Two cold hands.

Gently, slowly... it was placed on his shoulders.

Long, slender fingers with distinct knuckles.

When it touches the skin on both sides of my neck, I feel that lifeless, icy coolness, like that of a tomb.

"Well--!!"

Wu Jun let out a broken gasp!

My whole body broke out in goosebumps!

Every inch of skin is screaming!

then.

A voice sounded right next to the back of his head:

"Wu... Jun..."

The voice was hoarse, dry, and drawn out, like a rusty saw tearing at wood.

"I am coming……"

"Come...take...you..."

"Go...to...the...underworld..."

Before he could finish speaking...

Wu Jun felt that the swivel chair he was sitting in began to slowly rotate.

He didn't forward it himself.

The chair rotates slowly—smoothly.

Like the plates on a conveyor belt sushi stand.

The chair was turned ninety degrees.

Wu Jun's gaze shifted from the skull to the darkness to his side.

Turn again.

Turn directly behind—

A hideous demon mask with blue faces and fangs was almost glued to his face!

The mask's pupils were deep black, like two vortexes that devoured light.

The sharp points of the fangs almost poked his nose.

A cold breath sprayed onto his skin.

"ah--!!!"

Wu Jun finally let out a bloodcurdling scream!

"A ghost...a ghost—!!!"

He tried to struggle to his feet, but the hands on his shoulders suddenly tightened their grip!

Like iron clamps, they pressed him firmly into the chair!

Followed by.

A cold hand slid down his shoulder and gripped his throat.

The fingers slowly tightened.

Compression of the trachea.

Wu Jun's screams abruptly stopped, turning into suffocating gasps.

The eyeballs began to bulge outwards due to lack of oxygen.

"Don't... be afraid..."

The demon's voice whispered close to his ear, carrying an eerie "gentleness":

"soon……"

"You are about to go to the underworld."

"Shall we... play a game...?"

Wu Jun shook his head frantically! Cold sweat poured down his face!

"No...no...!!"

"hehe……"

The demon chuckled:

"That's not up to you."

"If the King of Hell wants you dead at midnight..."

"I won't keep you until dawn."

"Clang."

A soft sound of metal being drawn from its sheath.

A dagger with a bluish blade appeared at the edge of Wu Jun's line of sight.

The tip of the knife gently pressed against the skin of his throat.

It was icy cold.

"You answered correctly... There's no reward."

The demon's voice suddenly turned cold:

"You answered incorrectly..."

The tip of the knife was pressed down slightly.

Wu Jun felt a slight stinging pain as if his skin had been pierced!

A warm liquid trickled down her neck!

"Time to answer questions..."

"Only five seconds."

The demon begins its countdown:

"five……"

Wu Jun's mind went completely blank!

What game?! What question?!

"Four……"

The blade tip penetrated another half millimeter!

"three……"

More blood is flowing out!

"two……"

Wu Jun screamed in despair, "Ask away—!! What question is it—!!"

The demon's voice paused for a moment, then slowly asked:

"Wu Jun..."

"tell me……"

"One plus one..."

Why does it equal ten?

Wu Jun was stunned.

What the hell is this problem?!

One plus one equals two! Saying it equals ten is wrong!

"Five seconds have passed."

The demon's voice was icy.

The blade suddenly slashed horizontally!

"laugh--!"

The distinct tactile sensation of skin being cut open!

"ah--!!!"

Wu Jun let out a bloodcurdling scream like a pig being slaughtered!

He felt a burning wound on his neck bleeding!

"You...answered...wrong..."

The demon's voice was mocking:

"A horizontal one..."

"Add a vertical one..."

"Isn't it just 'ten'?"

Wu Jun's eyes widened, his eyeballs almost popping out of their sockets!

This...this actually works?!

"This time... it's just a small punishment."

The evil spirit sheathed its dagger.

Wu Jun just breathed a sigh of relief—

"Clang!"

Another metallic scraping sound!

A wider, thicker machete with a serrated edge was placed against his neck!

The coldness of the blade pierced through the skin and went straight to the bone marrow!

"I'll give you one more chance."

The demon's voice drew near:

"tell me……"

"Twenty-four plus four..."

"Under what circumstances...?"

"Equals four?"

Wu Jun was almost in tears.

It's completely collapsed.

This is another riddle.

But the other party didn't give him any extra time to think or analyze.

If Wu Jun had even a tiny bit of time to analyze the situation, he would definitely figure out that the other party wasn't an evil spirit.

But that's exactly the effect Ye Feng wanted, keeping Wu Jun constantly tense and fearful.

"five……"

The countdown has started again!

"Four……"

Wu Jun closed his eyes in despair, then suddenly remembered a scene from a Spring Festival Gala skit. He immediately shouted, "In the case of a miscalculation—it equals four!"