The sharp bullet spun rapidly through the air and then penetrated the man's head in a split second.
The next moment, the middle-aged man who was speaking at the podium suddenly had blood splattered on his forehead and fell to the ground.
A moment later, the bodyguard in a black suit pulled out a gun, and immediately afterwards, the crowd began to scream and flee frantically in all directions.
Just as chaos began to appear, the next moment, accompanied by a mechanical "click" sound, all the images disappeared in an instant, revealing the cold walls around.
It turns out that this vivid scene is just a fake environment created using high-end technology.
The purpose of such a place is naturally to hone people's sniping skills.
Of course, high-tech equipment like this is not something that ordinary organizations can possess.
Generally speaking, only state agencies can own such high-tech training facilities.
Of course, there are exceptions.
For example, the mysterious black organization that seems to be pursuing immortality.
"Five hundred yards, pass."
On the platform, Chianti, who had a swallowtail butterfly pattern on his left eye, raised his sniper rifle with a cheerful expression. He then looked at the man in the baseball cap on the platform beside him and said with a smile, "Next, it's your turn."
Cohen did not respond, but silently raised his sniper rifle.
The next moment, the mechanical sounds of the huge and light-controlled training ground rang out again, and the next moment the environment changed again.
The platform where Cohen was standing rose up, and the cold wall in front of him turned into a lake filled with white mist the next moment, which looked like a fairyland from a distance.
And on this beautiful lake, a small boat is quietly parked in the center of the lake.
In the sight, Kevin, the middle-aged man who had died before, appeared again, sitting alone in a small boat fishing.
And below the scope, the green value "500yd", which represents the distance, keeps flashing.
Obviously, this distance is farther than the previous Chianti.
Although it is only fifty yards, for snipers of their level, this distance is extremely important.
It determines the level of a sniper and represents the distance between life and death.
Imagine two snipers facing each other, one can only hit out to 500 yards, while the other can hit out to 550 yards.
Excluding random shooting skills and extraordinary performance, the latter with a longer range naturally has a greater chance of survival.
There was almost no movement after the trigger was pulled, and the bullet penetrated Kevin's head the next moment, and the residual force carried the body into the lake.
The image disappeared, and Chianti put down his binoculars and said with a smile, "You're amazing."
At this moment, the sound of leather shoes stepping on the cold ground gradually became clearer.
Because the exit above was just across from them, they naturally saw Gin walking over with vodka, quietly watching the two people who were practicing.
However, the other party did not speak, and Chianti did not speak first. She picked up the sniper rifle on the ground and set it up.
The nearby machines picked up Chianti's movements and began to work again.
The next moment, the picture changed again into the night scene of the city.
There was a breeze blowing above the platform. The machine was simulating the wind speed at high altitude to influence the sniper's judgment.
This time, the target is sitting on the train, and judging by the scenery ahead, he plans to stop at the platform ahead.
The train's afterimage that kept passing through the sight gradually became clearer and finally arrived at the platform.
Kevin, who was sitting in his seat reading a book, appeared on the scope again, and this time the distance displayed below the scope was 600 yards.
The next moment, the car window in front of Kevin appeared like a dense spider web, and the unlucky man was killed again.
"Six hundred yards, passed." Chianti smiled smugly and looked at Cohen: "People say Kevin Brown died three times."
"Not bad." Vodka praised Chianti as he watched him easily hit the target at 600 yards.
But Gin on the side did not say anything in agreement, but just looked down quietly.
"Four times." After Chianti finished speaking, Cohen raised his sniper rifle, and the projection equipment below reappeared.
This time, it was the venue of a rugby game, and Kevin appeared again in the VIP room of the rugby stadium.
Cohen held his breath and concentrated his attention to the highest level.
The next moment, the trigger was pulled, and the bullet cut through the air, shattered the glass of the VIP room, deviated from Kevin's head, and finally made a hole in the chair to his left.
Obviously, Cohen failed this time. The extra fifty yards of distance was like an invisible chasm blocking his way, making him unable to break through the limit.
"Hahaha…"
Seeing Cohen miss, Chianti seemed very happy. She raised her gun and said with a smile: "Now as long as I can hit the target, I win."
Kevin, who was watching the game intently, appeared in the scope. Chianti pulled the trigger confidently, but the next moment the popcorn bucket in the opponent's hand fell directly to the ground.
Seeing this, Chianti gritted her teeth and looked unwilling, obviously very unhappy that she didn't hit the target.
"It seems that six hundred yards is the limit." Vodka commented after seeing the scene in front of him.
"Let's stop here." Gin said, then turned around and walked away.
"Gin! Wait a minute, let's do it again!" Chianti shouted unwillingly.
"That's not necessary." Gin stopped and said calmly, not even looking at Chianti's unpleasant expression, "This time the target is only two or three hundred yards away."
My dear, there is more to this chapter. Please click on the next page to continue reading. It will be even more exciting later!
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