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

Intensive Care Unit, General Hospital of Military Region.

The lights were stark white, and the corridor was so quiet you could hear the dripping of IV fluids.

The air was filled with disinfectant and a faint, decaying scent unique to endangered life.

The entrance to ICU Room 7.

Three figures stood there.

Yan Chonghua leaned against the wall, arms crossed, brows furrowed, eyes bloodshot.

Overnight, this number two figure in the Organization Department seemed to have aged ten years, his once straight back now slightly hunched.

Yan Ruge's mother sat on a bench, her hands tightly clutching a crumpled tissue.

Her eyes were red and swollen, and she stared blankly at the glass window on the door of the intensive care unit, as if she wanted to see signs of her daughter waking up through that glass.

Yan Hai stood behind his parents, his face gloomy, his fists clenched so tightly they cracked.

His eyes burned with the flames of hatred.

Footsteps echoed from the end of the corridor.

It's very light.

But in this deathly silent corridor, it was unusually clear.

The three of them turned their heads at the same time—

Zeng Linglong walked over.

He was still wearing his hospital gown, with a coat casually draped over his shoulders.

His face was pale, and his lips were bloodless.

But the pace was steady.

Keep your back straight.

His eyes—eerily calm.

"Uncle, Auntie."

Zeng Linglong walked closer and bowed slightly.

The voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable respect.

"Xiao Hai".

He looked at Yan Hai and nodded.

Yan Chonghua's gaze fell on Zeng Linglong.

Those eyes, clouded by fatigue and anxiety, met Zeng Linglong's gaze the moment—

Suddenly, everything is clear!

He already knew about what had happened to the Wu family, the Chen family, and several other families, as well as Wu Jun and others.

At that moment, he saw the determination beneath Zeng Linglong's pale face.

I saw the raging fury and murderous intent churning within those calm eyes, which he had forcibly suppressed.

What I saw even more was the sharp, unsheathed sword-like quality that this man possessed, forged in the crucible of countless battles.

Yan Chonghua slowly straightened up.

He stepped forward and extended his hand—

It patted Zeng Linglong hard on the shoulder!

"good!"

"This is the Zeng family I know!"

"A fine son of the Zeng family!"

His gaze, like a torch, was fixed intently on Zeng Linglong's eyes:

"So loyal and righteous!"

"Dare to do—dare to act!"

Zeng Linglong's body swayed slightly from that tap.

A sharp pain shot through the wound.

But he didn't even frown.

He simply looked at Yan Chonghua and nodded slightly.

Yan Ruge's mother then stood up and walked to Zeng Linglong.

Her eyes were red and swollen, and tears welled up again, but she forced herself to hold them back.

"Xiaolong... thank you for coming to see Ruge..."

His voice choked with emotion, and he could barely utter a complete sentence.

Looking at his worried and haggard mother, Zeng Linglong felt as if he had been struck by a heavy hammer.

He took a deep breath:

"Auntie, Ru Ge... she did it to save me."

"I will remember this kindness for the rest of my life."

Yan Chonghua waved his hand, his voice low:

"The doctor said that Ruge is out of danger."

"Now we just have to wait... wait for her to wake up."

"Once you wake up, you can be transferred to a regular ward."

His gaze fell on the door of the intensive care unit, his eyes filled with a mixture of heartache, expectation, and a trace of... the deep, unique pain of a father.

Zeng Linglong followed his gaze.

That door seemed to separate two worlds.

"I...I'll go in and check on her."

Zeng Linglong said softly.

Yan Chonghua nodded and stepped aside.

Zeng Linglong reached out and grasped the doorknob.

It's cold.

He gently pushed it away.

The door slid open silently, just a crack.

He stepped in sideways.

The door closed gently behind me.

Inside the intensive care unit.

The lights were dimmed.

Only the monitoring equipment by the bedside emitted a regular, low "beep" sound, and the screen displayed green waves of an electrocardiogram.

The air was filled with an even stronger smell of disinfectant, and... the faint, mechanical hum of life support equipment in operation.

Hospital bed.

Yan Ruge lay there.

His face was as pale as paper, devoid of any color, like a fragile piece of porcelain.

An oxygen tube was inserted into her nose, and an IV needle was inserted into her arm, with clear medicine dripping into her veins.

Her chest rose and fell slightly with her breathing, very gently and slowly.

It seemed like it could stop at any moment.

Zeng Linglong walked to the bedside.

His footsteps were light, as if afraid of disturbing a fragile dream.

He sat down on the chair next to the bed.

His gaze fell on Yan Rugo's face.

Time seemed to freeze at that moment.

Only the beeping of the instruments, like the second hand of life, ticked away in the silence.

That scene kept replaying uncontrollably in his mind—

Gunshots rang out!

Yan Ruge rushed forward without hesitation!

The dull thud of a bullet tearing through flesh!

And the words that escaped from her pale lips...

"Before... I always... lived in my own self-imposed prison..."

"Now... I'm very happy, I'm living... in your 'walled city'..."

"May you...not become...a lonely swordsman..."

Every single word.

They were like red-hot irons, burning his heart.

"Oh……"

A very soft, extremely bitter laugh escaped from Zeng Linglong's throat.

In this quiet ward, it seemed exceptionally clear, and also exceptionally... desolate.

He looked at Yan Rugo, who lay unconscious on the hospital bed.

His eyes slowly changed.

At this moment, a tiny crack appeared on that cold, hard shell.

Something soft yet painful welled up from the crack.

His eyes slowly reddened.

It wasn't tears.

Instead, it is a deeper, more oppressive kind of moisture.

He slowly extended his hand.

His fingertips hovered an inch above Yan Rugo's cheek.

pause.

Trembling.

In the end, none of them fell behind.

It just hung there, like touching an invisible yet real wound.

"You know what...?"

Zeng Linglong spoke up.

The voice was very soft and gentle, like talking to oneself, or like telling a secret to a sleeping person.

"My World..."

"That's always been the case."

"Danger...war...conspiracy...slaughter..."

"You are searching for freedom within your own walled city."

"But I am..."

"Struggling to survive amidst mountains of corpses and seas of blood."

His gaze was fixed on the deep night outside the window.

His gaze was distant, as if piercing through walls, revealing the blood-stained paths he had walked.

"Fate... really knows how to play tricks on people."

"Let us two... people who should have lived in two different worlds..."

They got together.

He looked away and then back at Yan Rugo's pale face.

A deep, overwhelming fear welled up in his eyes—

"I'm very scared."

His voice was so low it was almost inaudible.

"Returning to the family... means all those who care about me... all my relatives and friends..."

"They will all be dragged into a dangerous vortex."

"You are one."

"Soon... Xiaoyu will be too."

A bitter, twisted smile appeared on his lips.

"Looking back on this journey..."

"I've discovered that fate seems to be... playing tricks on me all along."

"Born into a wealthy family... but grew up in hell."

He recalled Hellfire's childhood.

I recall the smoke and fire of the battlefield when I was a mercenary.

I recall countless nights I struggled on the brink of death.

Those memories, like a black tide, washed over me.

He closed his eyes.

Take a deep breath.

When he opened his eyes again, there was a hint of... a tragic and resolute determination in them.

"You said... you hoped I wouldn't become a lonely swordsman."

"But every time..."

"War rages before me, enemies fall before me, conspiracies unfold before me..."

"Everything is forcing me—"

His voice suddenly turned sharp, carrying a suffocating feeling as if fate had seized him by the throat:

"Grip your sword tighter!"

"Charge forward!"

"Keep charging!"

"After rushing forward... I discovered..."

"I'm used to it."

"I'm used to carrying everything alone."

"I'm used to conquering everything alone."

"Over time..."

His gaze fell on his outstretched palm.

Those hands, with distinct knuckles, were covered with calluses and tiny scars.

These are hands accustomed to holding guns and knives.

It was also a pair of hands... accustomed to solitude.

"I'm used to being alone."

"I've gotten used to...being alone."

He raised his head and looked at Yan Ruge, his eyes filled with a deep, almost desperate tenderness.

"My path..."

"Now... perhaps we shouldn't have feelings."

"You shouldn't have fallen in love."

"And even more so... we must not... engage in romantic relationships."

His voice trembled slightly from suppressed emotion:

"Love has not yet arrived... a lonely figure."

"If love were to arrive... two shadows... utter loneliness."

These words were like a key, unlocking the deepest, most hidden, and most painful corner of his heart.

He knew about Yan Rugo's feelings.

He also knew of the deep affection of another woman across the ocean.

But he didn't dare accept it.

We can't accept it.

I know your feelings.

Zeng Linglong's voice was as light as a feather, yet as heavy as a mountain:

"But now... I dare not... and cannot accept it."

"This is... what's deepest in my heart—"

"Lonely."

He paused, as if gathering his courage, before uttering his final words:

"You're the same."

"Anna... too."

The ward was deathly silent.

Only the beeping of the instruments sounded like a lonely heartbeat.

a long time.

Zeng Linglong slowly stood up.

He leaned down and whispered in Yan Rugo's ear.

They are very close.

You could smell the faint scent of disinfectant in her hair and feel her faint breathing.

His voice was extremely low, yet it carried a resolute determination that severed all hesitation:

"But Ruge..."

I believe—

You understand my loneliness.

"I also--"

I understand your feelings.

"so……"

He straightened up and took a step back.

His gaze, like the most steadfast vow, was etched onto Yan Rugo's sleeping face:

"Please let the emotions... pause."

"Let me...go alone."

"Heading to the Abyss—"

"Cut off all conspiracies! Tear apart all darkness!"

"Wait until I avenge you!"

His voice suddenly rose, carrying a wild and unrestrained spirit, a promise to break free from all shackles:

"The one you've met—is not a lone swordsman!"

"Your love—will not be like two flowers blooming in different places, separated by vast distances!"

He glanced at Yan Rugo one last time.

"wait for me."

"When I, this solitary swordsman... cut through all darkness—"

A faint, yet infinitely longing smile slowly curved the corners of his lips:

"You play the zither."

"I wield my sword."

"The zither is yours—"

"Affection."

"The sword I wield... is—"

"The Sword of Love".

Done.

He turned around.

There was no turning back.

I walked towards the door.

Their steps were still light, yet they carried a resolute determination to sever ties with the past and rush into the flames of bloodshed.

Just as he grasped the doorknob, about to pull it open—

Hospital bed.

Yan Ruge's right hand rested on the snow-white bed sheet.

index finger.

Slightly...

It moved slightly.

Extremely slight.

Almost imperceptible.

Followed by.

Beneath her tightly closed eyelids, her eyeballs... slowly moved.

It seemed to be struggling, trying to break free from the shackles of darkness.

Then--

Two lines of clear tears.

From the corner of her tightly closed eyes.

Silently...

slide.

It traced across her pale cheek.

Submerged in pillowcase.

Leaving behind a slightly damp, yet vibrant trace—

Tear stains.

The door was pulled open.

Zeng Linglong's figure disappeared outside the door.

Silence returned to the intensive care unit.

Only the beeping of the instruments and the two wet tear tracks could be heard.

Witnessing—

A solitary outpouring.

With a vow... concerning the zither and the sword.

Outside the window, the night in Beijing was in full swing.

And the storm—

Coming soon