We offered you a summer job, but you went and became a mercenary?

"What...what is he doing in the supermarket?" A tall, thin mercenary asked in a low voice, his face full of disbelief.

Another short, stocky companion rubbed his eyes, feeling like his brain wasn't quite working properly.

"Buy...buy my last meal before I die?"

In Arkham, which mercenary who accepts an S-class mission doesn't immediately rush into the black market for weapons and bombard themselves with rocket launchers, anti-materiel sniper rifles, and C4 explosives?

They went to the supermarket to buy things; after so many years in the military, this was the first time they had ever seen anyone like that.

A few minutes later, under the stunned gazes of the two, Lin Ye walked out of the supermarket.

He was carrying a case of Master Kong pickled cabbage beef noodles in his left hand and a case of braised beef noodles in his right hand, with several large bottles of mineral water tucked under his arm.

The binoculars in the tall, thin mercenary's hand fell to the ground with a "thud," without him even noticing.

"What...what the hell?"

The short, stocky companion pinched his thigh hard, wincing in pain, before he was certain he wasn't dreaming.

"Is he... going to war or going on a picnic?"

"Does he intend to choke those three hundred 'Venomous Fang' members to death with instant noodles?"

The two experienced mercenaries felt their worldview, built up over a decade of life on the edge, shattered in that moment.

Lin Ye didn't care about what those two idiots were thinking.

He placed the two boxes of instant noodles and water at his feet, then picked up the burlap sack and strolled over to the used car market next to the supermarket.

The two mercenaries exchanged a glance and quickly crouched down to follow.

"He's definitely going to buy armored vehicles!" the tall, thin man muttered, "I knew it! This kid was just putting on a show!"

The used car market was filled with all sorts of heavily modified "war vehicles." There were pickup trucks with welded steel plates, off-road vehicles with bulletproof glass, and even a tracked infantry vehicle that had been retired from some unknown battlefield. Although the cannon barrel had been removed, its steely aura was still terrifying.

However, under the expectant gazes of the two, Lin Ye walked past these imposing and powerful machines without glancing to either side, heading straight to the far corner of the market, a place where scrap parts were piled up.

There, a motorcycle was parked all alone.

A second-hand motorcycle with peeling paint that looks like it has a skin disease, black smoke still coming out of the exhaust pipe, and oil and mud stuck to the chain.

Lin Ye stepped forward, reached out and wiped his finger on the dusty seat, then kicked the rusty tire.

A car dealership owner in a greasy vest yawned as he walked over and lazily quoted a price: "One thousand US dollars. This is a rare find, all about nostalgia!"

"Boss, your bike rattles everywhere except for the bell," Lin Ye said with a look of disgust. "The exhaust pipe sounds like it has tuberculosis. Three hundred."

"Young man, are you kidding me! Eight hundred! That's the lowest I can offer!"

"Three hundred and fifty, and give me a helmet too."

"Bullshit! Five hundred! One price! Take it or leave it!" The shopkeeper was getting desperate from the haggling.

Lin Ye didn't waste any more words. He took out a small stack of crumpled US dollars from his pocket, counted out five bills, and slapped them into the boss's hand.

"make a deal."

The two Mad Lion mercenaries hiding in the distance were completely petrified.

They watched as Lin Ye pushed the dilapidated motorcycle, which looked like it was about to fall apart at any moment, and went back to tie the two boxes of instant noodles and the snakeskin bag tightly to the back seat with hemp rope. The whole process was skillful, just like a migrant worker who was about to go to the city to work packing his luggage.

"He...he's going to ride this thing to fight 'Venom'?" The tall, thin mercenary's voice trembled.

The short, stocky companion was speechless, only looking at Lin Ye with an expression of utter disbelief.

After Lin Ye had tied everything up, he seemed to remember something.

"Boss, didn't we agree to give you a helmet?"

"Five hundred dollars for a helmet? Get lost!"

Lin Ye wasn't angry. He strolled over to a nearby stall selling miscellaneous goods and bought a helmet for five dollars.

A pink children's safety helmet with cartoon images of Pleasant Goat and Big Big Wolf printed on it.

He slung the obviously undersized pink helmet over his head, the brim barely touching his forehead, making him look comical and ridiculous.

After doing all this, Lin Ye stepped on the start lever.

"Rat-a-tat-tat... rat-a-tat..."

The broken-down motorcycle's engine emitted a dying cough, spewing out a large plume of choking black smoke, before finally managing to shakily start a fire.

The mercenaries who had been waiting to see a good show in the bar had all poured into the street at some point.

When they saw Lin Ye's outrageously ridiculous outfit, the entire street erupted in thunderous laughter.

"Hahaha! What am I seeing? Pink memories?"

"My God! This guy's definitely had his brainstem removed! Is he here to save the depressed patients at Arkham?"

"Riding a beat-up motorcycle, wearing a child's helmet, and carrying two boxes of instant noodles to fight three hundred militants? Who would believe that!"

Amidst a chorus of cheerful laughter, Lin Ye twisted the accelerator.

He was making plans in his mind.

Taking the desert trail from here will save half an hour. Let's get this over with quickly, get that million dollars, then go back to the hotel, enjoy the air conditioning, and play games—that's what summer jobs should be like.

Accompanied by the "putt-putt-putt" sound like a tractor, and a thick plume of black smoke.

The boy, wearing a pink children's helmet and with instant noodles and a snakeskin bag strapped to the back seat, drove out of Arkham City with unbridled arrogance, amidst the mercenaries' stares as if he were a fool.

……

at the same time.

Fifty kilometers outside Arkham.

It is a desert area controlled by the "Fang" organization.

"boom!"

A loud explosion shattered the tranquility of the wilderness.

A dilapidated jeep was hit directly by a rocket and tumbled through the air, turning into a burning fireball.

Not far away, several mercenaries covered in blood and dressed in clothing from different factions were surrounded from all sides by more than a dozen "Fang" militants and pinned down in a depression in a sand dune, desperately fighting back.

"Captain! We've been ambushed!" A young mercenary, his face covered in blood and sand, screamed desperately into the walkie-talkie.

"Their firepower is too intense! We...we can't hold on!"

All that could be heard on the other end of the walkie-talkie was a buzzing sound of electricity.

A low-ranking member of the "Venomous Fang" gang, a cigar dangling from his mouth, stood on a still-twitching corpse, a cruel smile on his face like a cat toying with a mouse.

He raised his hand and made a throat-slitting gesture.

"Leave no one alive."