The shorter the distance a projectile travels down the rifling of a barrel, the higher its muzzle velocity will be. Naturally, this significantly increases the bullet's stability and effective range.

With such an array of capabilities, Qin Fen was the very embodiment of the Angel of Death on the battlefield.

The terrorists, upon hearing the order, unleashed a torrent of bullets aimed at Qin Fen's position. Rounds whistled past his body in a continuous stream.

Another volley arrived, a dense spray of gunfire meeting his body armor with a sharp clank and ping. Da Shitou, Yaba, and several new recruits threw themselves in front of Qin Fen, leaving only a narrow channel clear for his rifle barrel and scope. Every incoming round struck them. The Dragon Scale Armor groaned under the assault; being simultaneously attacked by a barrage from AK-47s still carried considerable impact.

The thunder of the Barrett rifle erupted again. The terrorist commander, who had just been directing the fight from within a nearby structure, was now standing motionless, his legs still planted. However, everything above his waist had vanished. Half his torso lay slumped on the ground, his eyes wide open, staring vacantly at where his lower body should have been. He was mumbling, "Not human. He is not human. He is a demon. An adversary of the gods..."

These words, steeped in terror, crackled through his lip mic, reaching the other fighters. In that instant, the resolve of the remaining terrorists began to crumble.

One targeted terrorist instinctively sensed the deadly danger. He executed a maneuver—Spirit Ape Leaping the Forest—his body dissolving into a black streak as he darted sideways. It would be difficult to hit him even with a sniper rifle, and even a close-range sweep with an AK would struggle to track his speed. The rifle cracked once more. The terrorist, whose aerial form resembled a nimble monkey, was still in motion, but that motion was now purely inertial. He had become a headless ape.

This single shot completely shattered the terrorists’ mental defenses. The intelligence they had received suggested the Federation had sent a squad of inexperienced "baby soldiers" to engage them.

But this marksmanship, more terrifying than death itself—who had ever seen a raw recruit half-crouched, single-handedly steadying a heavy Barrett M82A1 sniper system, capable of sending a terrorist to paradise with virtually every shot?

Forget new recruits; even seasoned snipers usually needed to brace their rifles against a rest to enhance accuracy, and even then, they couldn't guarantee a one-hundred-percent hit rate!

Once confidence evaporated, the terrorists' rate of fire noticeably decreased, and the ferocity of their shooting lacked its initial savage edge.

Du Zhanpeng keenly sensed this shift in atmosphere. He gripped his P308, and the Seven Star Immortal Thunder Cavalry Slash erupted once more. He moved like a general charging across an ancient battlefield, mud and slurry splashing a meter high beneath his boots.

Charge!

This time, the terrorists were genuinely stunned. What kind of new recruits were these? Who had ever witnessed a group of rookies launching such a ferocious frontal assault without any seasoned veterans leading the way?

As Du Zhanpeng moved, Xing Wuyi, who was beside him, naturally followed suit. Every single rookie in the passage began to act.

Lin Ling's assault was equally swift, though her advance carried no apparent momentum; she moved like a phantom in the night. Her rapid, controlled bursts from the P308, even while moving at high speed, still managed to blow the head off another terrorist.

As Du Zhanpeng charged down the right passage, Du Peng could no longer hold back. He chose to charge as well. Consequently, the new recruits in the right passage also initiated a breakout assault.

Nearly a hundred new soldiers surged across the open ground, the formation stretching out. Their combined firepower instantly doubled, if not more, compared to before. The terrorists were either cut down or pinned down so severely they couldn't lift their heads.

Those pinned down suffered even worse fates. Before they could fully hide, Qin Fen located their positions. Even through thick stone walls, after each shot from the Barrett M82A1 heavy sniper system, the bullet would spin violently, penetrating the rock and completely eliminating the individual hiding behind it.

The battle began quickly and ended even faster. The entire engagement lasted less than a minute, eliminating all fifty-two terrorists.

The new recruits, working in teams of three, began securing the area, checking to ensure no terrorists remained alive.

Snake Head darted through the ranks. In this skirmish, two comrades had been tragically lost, shot through the head. Several others had been less fortunate, struck in the arms or thighs. Yaba, whose body armor was severely compromised, stripped a brand-new vest from a fallen comrade. His own suit had taken perhaps fifteen or sixteen hits while defending Qin Fen; only heaven knew how much protection it still offered.

In war, the time spent cleaning up, resting, and preparing always far exceeded the actual fighting time.

The new soldiers concluded the battle efficiently and immediately settled into their routines: resting, treating the wounded, adjusting weapons, or discussing tactical coordination with their nearby friends.

The open ground before the stone building temporarily became the recruits’ makeshift base camp. Six soldiers were positioned to guard the only two pathways leading toward the stone structure.

Du Zhanpeng moved to greet the wounded soldiers. Having grown up in a military family, learning how to communicate with injured comrades was a fundamental necessity. Here, his practiced skills shone through. The wounded soldiers regarded him with looks tempered by faint admiration and a sliver of hero-worship.

Du Zhanpeng walked past Du Peng, his gaze, usually held high, sweeping dismissively over his "brother" who sat on the ground staring up at him.

There was no dialogue, not even a cold, contemptuous smirk. Du Zhanpeng simply walked past Du Peng.

Still no dialogue, not even a change in expression, yet Du Peng understood with sharp clarity the message conveyed by Du Zhanpeng’s eyes:

“This sort of calculated display to win hearts and minds is unnecessary to learn, because you are fundamentally unqualified!”

Unqualified again! Du Peng clenched his fist tightly. Du Zhanpeng’s growth during this encounter was astonishingly pronounced. Not only was his personal combat prowess exceptional, but his ability to read the battlefield situation was unparalleled. The education of a military lineage indeed held a unique advantage.

“Young Master Du, that fellow is still staring at you,” Xing Wuyi’s deliberately provocative voice sounded from behind Du Zhanpeng.

“Let him look,” Du Zhanpeng shrugged carelessly. “While he is too unqualified to look at me, he is even more unqualified to warrant me striking him. Since he fails both qualifications, I’ll choose the lesser offense.”

“Young Master Du is truly magnanimous,” Xing Wuyi replied, his tone dripping with sycophancy.

Du Zhanpeng merely smiled, unconcerned. “He isn't even qualified to elicit a reaction from me.”

“Unqualified. Unqualified. Unqualified again.” Scenes from childhood flashed through Du Peng’s mind.

As a child, when the then-Du Zhanpeng snatched away his favorite toy pistol, the words Du Zhanpeng used were: “You are unqualified to possess this toy.”

Playing baseball with neighborhood kids, Du Zhanpeng’s first statement upon joining was: “You are unqualified to play with me. You are out now.”

When he first confessed his feelings to the girl he secretly adored, Du Zhanpeng was there instantly: “This woman is now my girlfriend. You are unqualified to have a girlfriend.”

“Qin Fen, your sniping is flawless,” Du Peng’s voice broke through Du Peng’s reverie. “We coordinated well on the battlefield. Interested in being my friend? I guarantee you’ll be very satisfied having me as a friend in the future.”

Du Peng stared blankly at Du Zhanpeng’s smiling face. How similar that smile was to every instance in the past when Du Zhanpeng had stolen something or someone he cherished!

Qin Fen looked at Du Zhanpeng and shook his head again. “I’ve told you many times. My friends don’t like you.”

Two weeks had not been long, but Du Zhanpeng had extended over thirty invitations to friendship. That relentless spirit reminded Qin Fen of Lin Li’s dogged pursuit of a girl.

A look of profound regret once again crossed Du Zhanpeng’s face. As usual, he clapped Qin Fen on the shoulder. “Kid, he really isn’t qualified to be your friend. I stand by my original statement. I’m waiting for you anytime.”

“Young Master Du, must you be so persistent?” Xing Wuyi trailed after Du Zhanpeng, a note of complaint in his voice. “Even Liu Bei only visited Zhuge Liang three times before persuading him. You have been pestering Qin Fen…”

“Haha…” Du Zhanpeng waved his hand. “You don't understand. I simply feel that bastard is utterly unqualified to possess anything, including friendship.”

Du Zhanpeng’s voice wasn't loud, but it carried clearly enough for Du Peng to hear every word. Throwing an arm around Du Peng's shoulder, he felt his quiet, reserved comrade was now teetering on the edge of a complete breakdown, ready to act rashly out of sheer anger.

Lin Ling was alone, without any new recruits accompanying her, yet numerous soldiers watched her. This sole female soldier in the unit possessed not only astonishing combat power but also incredible recovery abilities. A bullet grazed her shoulder and upper arm—

After a brief, efficient dressing, not a single drop of blood seemed to seep through the gauze. It appeared as though the flow of blood had been completely arrested.

Many, including Qin Fen, wondered what martial art Lin Ling practiced, given that her movements caused almost no discernible air turbulence. Controlling all her Zhenqi beneath the skin to fight was not merely a matter of precise control over power; it suggested a mastery that had reached an entirely different echelon.

Qin Fen, meanwhile, was readjusting his Barrett sniper system. Although he lacked spare parts or tools for modification, he needed to fine-tune it, perhaps adjusting the time interval between shots without compromising the bullet’s destructive power.