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

The recruits, who were originally immersed in the fear of death, stiffly turned their necks in unison.

Dozens of pairs of eyes stared intently at the bucket of noodles in Lin Ye's hand, their green light gleaming.

Many of them had endured two or three days of bumpy travel to reach the Middle East, and were already starving.

The Texas guy was writing his suicide note when the ink from his pen punctured the napkin. His Adam's apple bobbed violently as he frantically swallowed.

The burly man with the scorpion tattoo stared wide-eyed.

"Brother, you...you still have the appetite at a time like this?"

The tattooed, burly man couldn't resist coming closer, staring at the bright red broth, feeling his stomach clench.

"You might be meeting your maker tonight, and you're eating noodles?"

Lin Ye didn't even look up, took another big gulp of hot soup, and exhaled a breath of hot air.

"Nothing is more important than eating."

Lin Ye tapped the dough bucket with his fork.

"Domestic bosses don't provide meals, while overseas they pay $10,000 a day and still don't provide meals? Then my summer job was a complete waste."

When the burly scorpion man heard "ten thousand cuts," his expression suddenly turned strange. He glanced at the tent entrance, then squatted down next to Lin Ye and lowered his voice.

"You yellow-skinned kid, you really think you can get that ten thousand dollars?"

Lin Ye stopped eating her noodles and turned to look at him.

"What do you mean? Blood Fox's job posting clearly states that they pay 10,000 yuan a day, with meals and accommodation included."

"That's just a scam to newbies like you!"

The burly scorpion-like man chuckled self-deprecatingly.

"I have a fellow countryman who worked on the outskirts of Blood Fox last month. The boss of Blood Fox is insanely greedy. This is not a reconnaissance mission at all. It's just to make you human shields and consume Black Mamba's bullets."

He pointed to the worn-out AK with peeling paint at Lin Ye's feet.

"Once you're all dead, and the Black Mamba's firepower and ammunition are almost depleted, the Blood Fox's main force will move in."

"As for wages? Dead people don't need to receive wages. Blood Fox won't even send your family a bill for the compensation; they'll pocket the money directly. That's their risk-free business."

pat.

The plastic fork in Lin Ye's hand broke into two pieces.

He slowly turned his head and stared at the scorpion-like strongman. His originally calm face was now frighteningly serious.

Say it again.

"He...he's not planning to pay salaries?"

Lin Ye's voice was flat and monotone, yet it sent a chill down the spine of the burly man squatting beside him.

"Yeah, the person's dead, why are you still paying their salary?"

The burly man shrank his neck.

Lin Ye slowly stood up and placed the still-unfinished instant noodle cup on the broken table.

What is the Achilles' heel of working people?

Is it overtime?

Was I going to get scolded?

No.

It's unpaid wages!

Lin Ye spent three days running around the labor market after finishing his college entrance exams, only to have his wages withheld for those three days. Now, he has finally found a high-paying international part-time job that pays 10,000 dollars a day, but there are still people trying to steal his hard-earned money.

"Cutting off someone's livelihood is like killing their parents."

Lin Ye gave a cold laugh.

He bent down and grabbed the rusty AK-47 from the ground.

The information about max-level weapon mastery flashed wildly in my mind.

Lin Ye's fingers traced across the surface of the gun.

Inferior gun oil, severely worn charging handle, loose handguard.

"The magazine catch is deformed, causing improper feeding, and the firing pin is cracked. This gun will definitely jam before firing three bullets."

Lin Ye felt more confident.

Those Blood Fox bastards even gave us scrap guns; they clearly wanted us dead.

Lin Ye's hands suddenly moved.

Without even looking, his two hands created a blurry afterimage in the air.

Click!

The magazine came off.

Splash!

Receiver cover, recoil spring, bolt, piston rod...

In less than three seconds, the AK-47, which was originally a single piece, was instantly turned into a pile of scattered parts on the cot.

The Texas guy, who was about to continue writing his will, suddenly dropped his pen on the ground.

Several new recruits nearby were so shocked that their jaws nearly dropped to their feet.

Blind disassembly?

Is this something a high school student carrying a snakeskin bag to do during summer work could do?

Lin Ye remained expressionless, pulled up the hem of his cheap pair of shorts, and rubbed them hard against the rusty machine parts, cleaning off all the rust and cheap gun oil.

Then, his hands once again became afterimages.

Click, click, click!

A series of crisp, clean metallic clanging sounds echoed deafeningly in the deathly silent tent.

Ten seconds.

An AK-47, its overall lines now perfectly aligned, even the cocking handle exuding an industrial chill, was once again in Lin Ye's hand.

Whoosh!

Lin Ye suddenly pulled the bolt of his gun with one hand.

The sound was crisp and powerful, without the slightest hesitation, like a venomous snake awakening.

The burly scorpion-like man rubbed his eyes, looked at Lin Ye, and felt like he might be dreaming.

Even the top gunsmiths in their original unit couldn't do this so quickly!

Night fell very quickly in the desert.

The wind whipped up fine sand, which lashed against the tarpaulin of the tent, making a rustling sound like the howling of ghosts and wolves.

A piercing brass whistle suddenly rang out in the center of the camp.

"Gather! Everyone, gather! Get the hell out here!"

The one-eyed officer, "The Butcher," roared violently, his voice piercing through the sandstorm.

Everyone in the tent shuddered. Before the Texas guy could even put the suicide note into an envelope, the Blood Fox veteran yanked open the tent flap and smashed it out with the butt of his rifle.

Outside, it was pitch black.

Only the headlights of a few pickup trucks flickered in the desert.

Two kilometers ahead lies that desolate sand dune.

By the faint moonlight, several half-collapsed mud-brick houses could be seen standing atop the sand dunes; that was one of the outer strongholds of the Black Mamba terrorist organization.

"Sir, are we... are we just going to walk there like this?"

A new recruit looked at the pitch-black desert ahead, his voice trembling with tears.

Without even night vision goggles, what's the difference between this and blind men touching an elephant?

The one-eyed officer slapped the recruit's helmet, making a crisp sound.

"Stop talking nonsense! Get in there! Once you're inside the village, everyone gets a thousand dollars in cash! Anyone who backs down, I'll shoot them right now!"

Under the menacing gaze of the veteran Blood Fox soldiers' dark gun barrels, the dozen or so new recruits had no choice but to grit their teeth and trudge slowly toward the sand dunes.

Lin Ye walked at the very back.

Although his flip-flops were a bit slippery on the sand, the incredible sense of balance and muscle control provided by the basic super serum made every step he took exceptionally smooth.

His eyes were slightly narrowed in the darkness.