Infinity, The Arcade Age

The ruined camp. As Qin Ming looked down at the array of weapons laid out before him, his expression remained utterly blank.

The soldiers standing opposite him shared the sentiment, their faces drawn with discomfort.

On the ground lay a pile of rifles, along with an assortment of grenades. As for heavy weapons—even light machine guns—they were in pitifully short supply.

Two light machine guns, a single heavy machine gun, and two shoulder-launched rocket launchers. Alongside that, there were four submachine guns. That was the entire inventory of heavy weapons available.

Oh, and let's not forget the single light tank.

Expecting to break through enemy lines using this meager arsenal—especially when ambushes were likely—was a complete pipe dream.

Qin Ming picked up one of the rifles, a beat-up, white mess of a weapon. Examining it, he couldn't help but grimace.

With no better choice, he waved his hand and dismissed the soldiers, instructing them to step out. Then, rolling up his sleeves, he began merging equipment on a large scale.

Though these plot-restricted weapons couldn't be taken out of this world, they could still be used to arm the troops here.

Qin Ming wasn't deluded enough to believe he could single-handedly take on the entire rebel army, let alone account for the various members of the King of Fighters squad who had likely infiltrated this mission world.

He needed to arm this battered company of soldiers and bolster his fighting strength.

Rifles? Merge them.

Machine guns? Merge them.

Submachine guns? Merge them.

To further increase the soldiers' survivability, Qin Ming even merged a large pile of uniforms.

And where did he find all these materials to merge? On the battlefield, where corpses and debris were plentiful.

Though not every uniform could be classified as gear by the Nightmare Space, there was more than enough material to combine and refine.

By the time the surviving fifty-plus soldiers were summoned back into the camp, they were greeted with an entirely different sight.

A large array of brand-new, standardized weapons lay in wait for them.

Every rifle gleamed in uniform green, every uniform matched in color and design, complete with steel helmets.

Even the few heavy weapons had been upgraded to blue-tier gear.

As the soldiers eagerly grabbed at the new equipment, admiring the craftsmanship and effectiveness, Qin Ming—now also dressed in military uniform—stared at them coldly.

"Listen up!" his voice rang out. "In a while, we're going to charge forward. Our target is to break through and join up with the main army. The enemy soldiers ahead of us may be well-trained, but so are you! If you lost before, it wasn't because you lacked skill, but because you didn't have the right equipment!

"Well, now I've given you the best equipment! Better than what they've got! Even these uniforms can stop bullets! If you still can't win, and you disgrace yourselves by losing again…" Qin Ming's glare hardened. "Then I'll shoot you myself!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" the soldiers chorused, standing straighter.

"Move out! Forward, to the front lines!"

"Sir, yes, sir!"

Dressed in matching green body armor and holding newly polished weapons, the fifty-plus soldiers exuded newfound determination as they surged toward the forest ahead.

Leading them was the last remaining light tank, rolling steadily at the head of the column.

Sitting atop the tank in full view was Qin Ming himself, lounging in plain sight with a heavy blue-tier machine gun mounted in front of him.

The sheer audacity of his position screamed, "Come at me!"

As the troops advanced through the forest, it wasn't long before they encountered the second wave of the rebel army's ambush.

Despite being deserters from the regular army, the rebels were no slouches. Their soldiers were experienced, highly disciplined, and even more dangerous than the average troop.

In terms of equipment, they were far better supplied. Compared to the regular army's initial arsenal of trash-tier weapons, the rebels' standard-issue firearms were far superior.

This disparity in equipment had been a major factor in the regular army's earlier devastating losses.

Yet now, with upgraded weapons and gear, the tides had begun to turn.

A whistling sound cut through the air as a rocket-propelled grenade streaked toward Qin Ming, seated boldly atop the tank.

Qin Ming casually deflected the incoming projectile mid-air with a single Sound Speed Hand Blade. The RPG exploded harmlessly above him.

Amid the blinding flash, a wave of rebel soldiers burst forth from the underbrush, their weapons raised high.

The strategy was familiar: armored vehicles leading the charge, foot soldiers following close behind, and air support in the form of low-flying fighter jets preparing to swoop in.

But this time, they were met with an overwhelming response.

The sound of gunfire erupted as the regular army unleashed hell.

The lead rebel soldier, armed with a riot shield, was promptly skewered by a high-caliber bullet that penetrated both him and his shield.

Machine gun fire followed, splintering tree trunks and tearing through whatever cover the rebels had. Even a light tank wasn't spared, as its hull was punctured by the upgraded blue-tier weaponry.

From atop the tank, Qin Ming roared as he manned the heavy machine gun, unleashing a relentless barrage of firepower.

The onslaught shredded riot shields, blasted apart cover, and left the advancing rebels scrambling for safety.

In the chaos, the deputy commander, armed with the team's only remaining RPG launcher, aimed directly at the enemy's armored vehicles. With precision, he destroyed one tank after another, reducing them to smoking wreckage.

The rebel army, which had confidently launched the ambush, found itself utterly unprepared for this level of resistance.

What's more, their air support was quickly neutralized.

As the E-B fighter jets made their descent to provide cover, they were met with concentrated anti-air fire. Before the pilots could react, one jet after another was riddled with holes, trailing black smoke before crashing into the forest.

The rebels were stunned. Their once-dominant air force was reduced to fiery wreckage before their eyes.

Desperate, the remaining pilots pulled their planes into steep ascents, trying to escape the deadly fusillade below.

But even at higher altitudes, they weren't safe. Machine gun fire followed them skyward, managing to take down two more jets before the rest fled the battlefield entirely.

In the aftermath, the rebel ground forces huddled behind their remaining cover, utterly dumbfounded.

This wasn't the ragtag regular army they had expected. How had they suddenly acquired such advanced weaponry? Could this be some elite special forces unit?

Such a development had never appeared in their intelligence reports!

(End of chapter)