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

Lin Ye didn't even lift an eyelid in the face of the sarcastic remarks from those around him who seemed to be watching a show.

He used the snakeskin bag as a pillow, huddled in a corner of the carriage, and began to close his eyes and rest.

The phrase "Max level weapon mastery" was running wildly in my mind.

Although he didn't open his eyes, the pickup truck's engine speed, the friction between the tires and the ground, and the following distance of several armored vehicles behind him were all presented to his perception as intuitive data.

The car drifted wildly through the dilapidated city, then floored the accelerator and plunged straight into the desolate desert with its endless yellow sand.

Two hours later.

The pickup truck came to a stop with a fishtail, and the dust it kicked up fed the people in the truck bed.

Lin Ye opened his eyes.

What came into view was an extremely rudimentary frontline camp.

A few rings of rusty barbed wire and a ring of crookedly piled sandbags—that's what they call a defensive fortification.

The air was filled with a pungent smell of engine oil, mixed with the lingering stench of blood.

In the open space not far away, several corpses covered with military green tarpaulins lay quietly, with flies buzzing around them.

Suppressed screams could be heard intermittently from the medical tents further away.

The burly men who had been bragging in the car just moments before now turned deathly pale.

In a real battlefield, even the air is thick and filled with despair.

"Get down here, all of you! Now!"

With a loud shout, a one-eyed officer wearing a black eye patch limped over.

He was carrying a tattered, curled-edge roster in his hand, and a large-caliber Desert Eagle was tucked into his belt.

The newlyweds lined up, trembling.

The one-eyed officer's single eye swept across the faces of the crowd, as cold as a venomous snake.

"I don't care what you did back in your hometowns, whether you were murderers or human traffickers. At Blood Fox, you only have one life, and that life belongs to your superiors!"

He waved the roster in his hand.

"There are only two rules here. First, those who disobey orders die. Second, those who desert in the face of battle die. Do you understand?"

"Got it!" several burly white men shouted at the top of their lungs, their voices trembling noticeably.

The one-eyed officer snorted and strode forward, surveying the ranks. When he reached the end of the line, he abruptly stopped.

Lin Ye was standing there wearing shorts, clutching the red, white, and blue striped snakeskin bag tightly in his arms.

The one-eyed officer's face instantly turned so dark it looked like it could drip water.

He stepped forward, raised his foot, which was clad in a combat boot, and kicked the snakeskin bag with a thud.

"Hey you yellow-skinned monkey, what kind of trash are you holding? This dump doesn't need you picking up trash. Throw it away right now and go get your gun over there!"

Lin Ye moved extremely quickly, taking half a step back to perfectly avoid the opponent's stomp.

He tightened the snakeskin bag around his chest and looked at the one-eyed officer with a serious expression.

"Sir, this isn't garbage. It contains my Master Kong braised beef noodles and Wujiang pickled mustard tuber. I don't like the food in the Middle East. This is my personal property."

The one-eyed officer was stunned.

The dozen or so newcomers around were also stunned.

Does this kid even know who he's talking to?

Standing before me is the third-in-command of the Blood Fox Mercenary Group, the bloodthirsty executioner nicknamed "The Butcher"!

Before the one-eyed officer could explode, Lin Ye added earnestly:

"Also, sir. Shouldn't we sign an employment contract before starting work? And, for our daily wages, will it be paid via WeChat or Alipay every evening? Or will it be paid directly in US dollars? If it's a bank transfer, who will bear the exchange rate and transaction fees?"

The scene fell into a deathly silence.

Only the agonizing cries of the seriously wounded echoed in the wind from inside the medical tents.

The new mercenaries who were with him no longer looked at Lin Ye with disdain, but as if they were looking at a lunatic who was about to be shot.

Asking your superior for a WeChat transfer in a mercenary camp?

Do we still need to discuss cross-border transaction fees?

The one-eyed officer laughed in anger. His facial muscles twitched violently a few times, and he suddenly grabbed a worn-out AK-47 stained with dark brown blood and with a loose stock from the weapons box on the ground next to him.

Whoosh!

He slammed the broken gun down heavily at Lin Ye's feet.

"You want a salary?"

The one-eyed officer stretched out his rough finger and pointed menacingly at a desolate sand dune two kilometers away from the camp.

In the shadow of those sand dunes, several half-collapsed mud-brick houses could be vaguely seen, exuding an aura of predation.

"Those bastards from Black Mamba set up lookouts in the village ahead. Our men sneaked in during the day and lost a small squad."

The one-eyed officer licked his chapped lips, revealing a mouthful of rotten teeth, and stared intently at Lin Ye.

"Tonight, you new recruits are responsible for scouting ahead. Only those who can pinpoint the enemy's firing positions and come back alive deserve to be paid!"

At this moment, several armed veterans of Blood Fox came over and herded Lin Ye and his group of new recruits into a dilapidated tent not far away, like herding ducks.

The tent reeked of a strange mixture of dead rats and sweat, and several tattered cots were placed crookedly.

As soon as the new recruits entered, the atmosphere instantly became so heavy that it was unsettling.

"We're doomed. This is clearly sending us to our deaths."

The burly black man with a scorpion tattoo on his arm slumped to the ground, clutching his head in his hands, his arrogance from the car vanishing instantly.

Another young white recruit had already pulled a ballpoint pen and a crumpled napkin from his pocket and started writing his will.

"Dear Mary, by the time you read this letter, I may no longer be able to return to Texas..."

The rustling sound of writing and suppressed sobs filled the tent.

Lin Ye had no interest in these things.

He threw the red, white, and blue snakeskin bag from his shoulder onto the tattered cot, unzipped it, and rummaged through it for a while.

A bucket of pickled cabbage and beef noodles, and a packet of Wujiang pickled mustard tuber.

There happened to be an electric kettle left by someone in the corner of the tent. Lin Ye walked over and shook it. There was still more than half a kettle of water inside.

After plugging in the power, the water boiled a few minutes later.

Lin Ye tore open the plastic film on the noodle bucket, poured in the seasoning packets one by one, then filled it with boiling water, and used a fork to cover the paper tightly.

Three minutes later.

A rich, domineering, and highly penetrating aroma of sour and spicy flavors instantly exploded in the deathly atmosphere of the tent.

Suck.

Lin Ye lifted the paper lid, picked up a large mouthful of instant noodles soaked in broth, and slurped it into his mouth.

"That's great, it tastes just right."

He tore open another piece of Wujiang pickled mustard tuber, put a bite in his mouth, and chewed it with a crunching sound.