Infinity, The Arcade Age

"Kid! That's the situation! They're trying to play the old trick of 'luring in the tiger to chase out the wolf!' That piece of meat isn't easy to chew! You'd better be extra careful! Compared to Moden, some of the higher-ups are starting to see you as the bigger threat now. So be cautious, don't get careless."

"Yeah, yeah, I got it. What's there to be afraid of with those shady backdoor tactics? If your blade's sharp, you don't worry about how many tricks they've got! If anyone dares reach out, I'll chop their damn hand off! Push me too far and I'll just stab them!"

"Sure, that's what you say! But you still need to be on guard! Oh right! I've sent my daughter over to assist you! You two should take the time to communicate more!"

"Hey! Why are you tossing your daughter at me again! Are you seriously not afraid she'll die out here?!"

"Relax! My daughter's got more lives than a cat, she won't die. You just make sure you don't die. There are a lot of people waiting for you to kick the bucket right now."

As the call ended, Qin Ming tossed the phone aside, his brows furrowed deeply.

The large-scale operation he had launched recently had—unsurprisingly—triggered the wrath of the Federal high command. They'd wasted no time in slapping him with a major new assignment: to engage Moden in a full-scale war.

That was something he had already anticipated. After all, you start slicing up someone else's cake, and of course they're going to get pissed.

If it weren't for his strength and numbers making the top brass hesitate, they probably would've stripped him of his rank and dragged him off to stand trial already.

If things had gone even slightly worse, he might've been court-martialed on the spot—or even shot on the spot.

As for the Federal higher-ups being angry? Qin Ming's response was: no response.

Let them be angry. It's not his mood on the line. He'd just keep doing what needed to be done.

If they really couldn't stand it, then hey—why not bring troops and try to take him down? Let's see who's actually stronger when it comes to a real fight.

Same as always: those with blades don't fear those with loud mouths. You can talk fast—but he can slash faster.

Qin Ming's campaign to win over the people had been going quite well lately. Resources had never once run dry.

Because he firmly believed in one principle: however many people a place had, there'd be that much in resources—if not more.

As long as he could get his hands on the resources, there would never be an issue of "not enough to go around." And if someone did say there wasn't enough, that only meant someone else was hoarding too much.

The ones he needed to deal with were never those who lacked resources—but that small group who had too much.

Once he stripped their resources away, there was nothing he couldn't accomplish.

Grain? Check. Guns? Check. Manpower? Check. Support of the people? Also check.

He called the shots here now—no one else had a say.

Hadn't the rebel army gone quiet lately? What were they even supposed to do now? On what grounds would they show themselves?

Rebel against whom? Qin Ming? Get real.

In fact, a portion of the underground resistance had already come over to his side these past few days, believing they had a brighter future working with him—and that they could actually help people that way.

With these local revolutionaries lending a hand, Qin Ming found his job even easier.

And thanks to intel from his informants, he had now confirmed the location of the Abbas Corps. He could strike at any time and completely secure the area.

After all, the regular army stationed here had already fallen under his control. The only thing left was the rebel corps.

Opening up the map, Qin Ming stared at the marked location, frowning in thought.

But before he could finish planning his next step, the door to the room suddenly burst open, and a figure strode in with firm steps.

"Reporting in! Intelligence Division, Sparrow Unit, Sergeant: Fiorina! Reporting for duty!"

Hearing the voice, Qin Ming blinked in slight surprise.

Realizing that the daughter of that old bastard Fox Germi had arrived, Qin Ming casually waved his hand without even turning his head.

"Got it."

Sitting nearby, Kasamoto Eri's eyes lit up at the sight of her old friend. She rushed over excitedly and gave her a warm hug.

"Fio! Long time no see! How've you been lately?"

Seeing Kasamoto Eri's enthusiasm, Fio shook her head and chuckled lightly.

"Same as always, just following orders. Things seem pretty lively over here though—I heard the commotion's been huge. Need a hand?"

For Fio to take the initiative to offer help—despite being born into a military family, she'd never been keen on enlisting—was no small thing.

It wasn't Qin Ming's charm, and it definitely wasn't Kasamoto Eri's. The real reason this woman was showing such interest was likely...

"Major General," she said, her tone suddenly solemn, "I know it's not really my place, but I sincerely thank you for helping the local people. If there's anything I can do, please don't hesitate to ask."

She bowed deeply, her expression uncharacteristically serious.

The reason she had always refused to follow her father's orders to join the army and earn merit wasn't just her distaste for violence—it was also her deep revulsion toward the filth and corruption festering within the Federation government.

The Federation had rotted to the point where even someone as stubborn and principled as her father had no choice but to play along with the system. No one could change it. No one dared to.

You either joined the corruption or stayed far away. Anything in between was a death sentence.

Fio had chosen to keep her distance. But in her eyes, Qin Ming had chosen that suicidal third path.

He was a man who dared to go against the wind, to tear open the darkness of the skies above—a true warrior.

He possessed a courage she could never have, didn't dare have.

Because in the end, Fio was still a Germi. In the eyes of others, she represented the entire family.

If she publicly defied the Federation government, her family would be the one to pay the price. And that was a price they couldn't afford.

So all she could do was focus on her own little world—trying to be a musician or a traveler, using those identities to escape reality.

Unfortunately, her father wouldn't have it. He insisted she enlist and eventually inherit his role as general.

As he put it: "The reason the Federation's full of useless trash and looks like hell now is because all the righteous people back then chose to back off. If they had stood their ground from the beginning, would the Federation be in this state now? The ones who backed off are the real losers!"

Now, seeing someone walking that path she'd given up on, doing so boldly and even forcing the Federation government to back down—Fio's eyes practically sparkled.

For the first time, she didn't resist her father's arrangements. She rushed over at top speed.

Only, Fio had clearly misunderstood one thing—this so-called warrior she admired wasn't exactly the noble figure she imagined.

Qin Ming's grand reforms, the redistribution of land and resources, weren't done out of heroism. He just didn't want to lose face to the rebel forces.

After all, the money and land weren't his. He had nothing to lose, so why not hand it out?

Then he'd just arm the locals, give them some gear, and let them sort things out themselves—as long as he didn't get blamed, it was all fine!

Call him a villain? Sure! Make him the protagonist? No problem!

But make him a pathetic lackey? A bootlicker for the collaborationist government? Hell no!

If he was going to play a role, it'd be the biggest role, good or bad. He was an adventurer—no way he'd let a bunch of locals push him around!

If they really pissed him off, he'd go stab Modern to death today, and wipe out the Federation high command tomorrow. Nobody was getting out unscathed!

Adventurers might not be heroes, might not have any sense of justice—but they were the biggest damn troublemakers around. No exceptions.

They were cut from the same chaotic cloth as the players of the Fourth Calamity—agents of pure chaos who acted on whims alone.

(End of Chapter)