Infinity, The Arcade Age

"Charge! Push forward!"

Amid desperate shouts, the remaining Regular Army soldiers rallied and began regrouping, clutching their weapons as they moved toward Qin Ming's position.

Standing tall atop a boulder, Qin Ming continued his relentless fire with a commandeered light machine gun, raining down suppression fire upon the enemy. His commanding figure, standing unshaken in the chaos, rekindled the morale of the scattered soldiers around him.

The psychological effect of such a display was undeniable.

However, while the Regular Army soldiers regained their fighting spirit, the enemy wasn't idle. The Rebel Army soldiers might not have the same raw firepower as Qin Ming, but their equipment was no joke.

With a loud BOOM, a Rebel-operated C1 light tank maneuvered into position and aimed its cannon straight at Qin Ming. The shell exploded against his boulder, hurling debris and sending Qin Ming flying backward from the impact.

As his figure vanished momentarily in the cloud of smoke and dust, cheers erupted from the Rebel Army's lines.

The celebration, however, was premature.

Through the haze, a brilliant silver flash streaked across the battlefield.

The light wasn't an ordinary explosion or bullet—it was a blade.

The streak of energy cleaved horizontally through the C1 tank, cutting the armored vehicle cleanly in two. Its upper section slid off the lower chassis with a groan of tearing metal, before both halves collapsed in a fiery explosion.

For a moment, the battlefield was deathly silent.

All eyes turned toward the source of the strike. Emerging from the dissipating smoke stood Qin Ming, completely unscathed.

His bracers, though slightly scuffed from earlier impacts, gleamed ominously under the sunlight. With a casual roll of his shoulders, he adjusted his stance, as if he hadn't just dismantled military-grade armor with his bare hands.

The Rebel Army soldiers exchanged terrified glances.

"Retreat! Fall back!"

In an instant, the once-aggressive invaders broke ranks and fled for the cover of the forest.

Seeing the retreating enemy, Qin Ming grit his teeth, preparing to pursue.

Before he could act, however, a high-pitched whine filled the air. Looking skyward, he saw fighter jets returning for a second wave of strafing runs.

Ratatatatatata!

Their mounted machine guns sprayed bullets across the battlefield, throwing up dirt and debris in a relentless barrage.

Qin Ming raised his arms, bracing himself as rounds struck his protective bracers. Though the bullets couldn't penetrate, the sheer force of the impact caused his footing to falter.

With a growl of frustration, he retaliated.

Launching two Sonic Hand Blades into the sky, Qin Ming targeted the approaching aircraft. The first struck the wing of a low-flying jet, causing it to spiral out of control and crash into the treeline in a fiery explosion.

The second blade cleaved cleanly through another jet's fuselage, splitting the aircraft in two. The bisected halves tumbled to the ground, each erupting in flames upon impact.

Though victorious in his aerial skirmish, Qin Ming could do little to stop the remaining Rebel forces from escaping into the dense forest.

Frustration flashed across his face as he turned his attention back to the battlefield. His clothes, shredded from earlier attacks, hung in tatters around him, leaving only the bright red undershirt beneath.

The sight of his flamboyant garment caused the nearby Regular Army soldiers to pause. Having rushed forward to thank their savior, they hesitated upon seeing his unconventional attire.

Their expressions shifted from awe to awkward amusement.

Finally, one soldier, suppressing a laugh, removed his own jacket and hesitantly offered it to Qin Ming.

The aftermath of the battle was a grim scene.

What had once been a bustling Regular Army encampment was now a smoldering wasteland. Craters pocked the ground, debris littered every corner, and the lifeless bodies of fallen soldiers were strewn across the battlefield.

Though the Rebel Army had retreated, their assault had left the camp in ruins.

Clad in a borrowed military uniform—though still stubbornly wearing his pirate hat—Qin Ming perched on a rock, deep in thought. He was reviewing the intelligence provided to him by the Nightmare Space.

Thanks to his Silver Title: Tiger Suppression General, he had been automatically assigned to the Regular Army faction upon entering the world. His starting rank, however, was the lowest of the low: Private First Class.

Despite this, his earlier heroics had earned him the admiration of the remaining soldiers. To them, Qin Ming's rank mattered little—his actions on the battlefield had elevated him to a near-mythic status.

After all, how could they not respect the man who cut a tank in half and shot down fighter jets with little more than brute force?

As he examined his faction title missions, three options appeared before him:

Elite Soldier

Objective: Achieve the rank of Captain.Reward: Green Title: Captain (Charisma +5).

Battlefield Tiger

Objective: Command a unit of at least 100 soldiers.Reward: Green Title: Officer (Summon 4 Riflemen per mission).

Battlefield General

Objective: Attain the rank of Major General.Reward: Blue Title: General (Summon an Elite Guard Unit, including 1 Light Tank, 1 Grenadier, 1 Machine Gunner, and 8 Riflemen).

(Note: Military ranks in this world progress as follows: Private → Corporal → Sergeant → Second Lieutenant → Lieutenant → Captain → Major → Colonel → Brigadier General → Major General → Lieutenant General → General.)

The third option caught Qin Ming's attention immediately.

"Summoning an Elite Guard Unit? That's essentially a portable army!"

He realized the potential of the General title—it could provide an overwhelming strategic advantage in future missions. If upgraded, the summoned guard unit might even evolve into a modern military force, allowing him to dominate the battlefield singlehandedly.

As Qin Ming contemplated his next move, the distant rumble of an engine broke his train of thought.

Turning toward the sound, he saw a C1 light tank emerge from the forest—the very same tank that had fled the battlefield earlier with a group of cowardly officers.

The Regular Army soldiers bristled at the sight, their disdain evident. Though they refrained from firing, the tension in the air was palpable.

The tank came to a halt, and its hatch opened to reveal a group of officers in pristine uniforms. Their immaculate appearance contrasted starkly with the dirt-streaked soldiers around them.

The lead officer, ignoring the hostile glares of his subordinates, stepped forward and addressed the group in a pompous tone:

"Well done, men! Your brave efforts, combined with our strategic diversion, have secured victory for the Regular Army! You've upheld the honor of our cause!"

His patronizing words only deepened the soldiers' resentment.

Finally, the officer turned his attention to Qin Ming. His condescending gaze swept over the pirate hat, and his lips curled into a sneer.

"Soldier! Stand and report your name!"

Seated on his rock, Qin Ming slowly raised his head, locking eyes with the officer.

A faint smirk tugged at his lips as a dangerous glint flickered in his eyes.

(End of Chapter)