The shooting range was shrouded in a thin mist at dawn, the outlines of distant mountains appearing and disappearing in the distance. Kyoto University freshmen stood in formation behind the shooting area, excited whispers rising and falling. Today was the most anticipated shooting day of their military training, and little did they know they were about to witness an amazing competition.
Han Feng stood in the preparation area. He noticed a group of people walking towards the entrance of the shooting range. Leading them was a colonel of the People's Armed Police with two bars and three stars on his shoulders, none other than Yan Zhen, the commander of the People's Armed Police Corps in charge of this military training. Yan Zhen had a resolute face, a steady gait, and his sharp eyes swept across the entire area like those of a hawk.
Beside Yan Zhen, Han Feng spotted a familiar figure: Chen Feng. This comrade from the Longyuan Special Forces, dressed in an armed police uniform, gave him a barely perceptible nod. A knowing smile played on Han Feng's lips.
"Han, are you nervous?" Zhao Yang walked over and asked with a forced smile. He had specially changed into a brand new training uniform today, with his epaulets polished to a shine.
Han Feng glanced at him calmly: "Instructor Zhao, you've gone to so much trouble."
Zhao Yang's face stiffened, then he coldly snorted: "Let's begin. As agreed, 25 bullets, the one with the highest score wins." He lowered his voice, "The loser not only has to apologize in public, but also admit that they had no right to question the instructor."
"I remember the agreement," Han Feng said calmly. "Instructor Zhao, please go first."
Yan Zhen and his entourage had already taken their seats in the viewing area. Zhao Yang straightened his back, gave the commander a standard military salute, and then strode towards the firing position.
"Ready for prone shooting!" the referee announced loudly.
Zhao Yang nimbly lay down, took out his gun, and loaded it in one smooth motion. With a command, the crisp sound of gunfire rang out on the shooting range.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
Twenty-five bullets were fired in rapid succession, Zhao Yang's movements as precise as a textbook demonstration. The target reporter quickly reported the results: "All 25 shots hit the bullseye! Average score 9.8!"
A burst of gasps and applause erupted from the student ranks. Zhao Yang stood up, his face full of smugness, and gave Han Feng a defiant look.
"Your turn, Han." He said, enunciating each word clearly, a sinister glint in his eyes.
Han Feng slowly walked to the firing position and picked up his assigned Type 95 assault rifle. With his expertise in firearms, the moment he touched the rifle, his fingertips sensed something amiss: the trigger pull was off, and there was noticeable wear inside the barrel. Han Feng calmly inspected the weapon, confirming that the rifling was almost completely worn away and the sight line had been deliberately misaligned.
This gun wouldn't even hit the bullseye, let alone the bullseye. It would be a miracle if it even hit the target. Han Feng sneered inwardly; Zhao Yang's methods were even more despicable than he had anticipated.
On the viewing platform, Yan Zhen frowned: "Captain Chen, that gun...?"
Chen Feng replied, "It's alright, Captain, please continue reading."
Han Feng lay prone on the shooting mat, his cheek lightly pressed against the butt of the rifle. He didn't fire immediately, but instead closed his eyes and took three deep breaths. The entire area fell silent; everyone held their breath and waited.
Suddenly, Han Feng opened his eyes, a sharp glint flashing in them.
\"Bang!\"
The first bullet burst from the barrel, and the target in the distance trembled slightly.
"10 rings!" the target reporter shouted.
Zhao Yang's expression changed slightly, but he quickly comforted himself: It's just good luck.
"Bang! Bang! Bang!"
The firing pace that followed was astonishingly fast; Han Feng fired almost without pause, completing all 25 rounds within half a minute. After the gunfire ceased, the range was filled with the smell of gunpowder, and everyone craned their necks to await the results.
The target reporter ran to the target paper and suddenly froze. He rubbed his eyes and leaned closer to examine it carefully.
"How's it going? Hurry up and report the results!" Zhao Yang urged impatiently.
The target marker's voice trembled slightly: "2...25 shots, all hitting the bullseye...and..." He swallowed hard, "all the bullets went through the same hole!"
"What?!" Zhao Yang exclaimed, his face turning deathly pale.
An uproar erupted. The students were in an uproar, some even jumping up to get a better look. Yan Zhen stood up abruptly, his eyes filled with shock.
"This is impossible!" Zhao Yang rushed to the target reporter and snatched the target paper. There was indeed only one bullet hole at the bullseye, with an exceptionally smooth edge and no tearing marks from ordinary shooting. This meant that all 25 bullets had passed through the target paper along almost the same trajectory, achieving the absolute limit of human precision.
Zhao Yang's hands began to tremble: "There must be a mistake... this gun is not..." He suddenly realized he had let something slip and quickly stopped himself.
Han Feng had already stood up and slowly put down his rifle. "What is Instructor Zhao trying to say? What's so special about this gun?"
Yan Zhen strode over, his face ashen: "Zhao Yang, explain yourself."
"Captain, I..." Zhao Yang's forehead was covered in cold sweat, and he spoke incoherently.
Yan Zhen snatched the rifle from Han Feng and expertly inspected it. In less than ten seconds, his face turned ashen: "Severe rifling wear, misaligned sights... This is a completely substandard training rifle!" His sharp gaze pierced Zhao Yang, "Who was in charge of preparing the weapons?"
Zhao Yang's legs began to tremble: "Reporting to the Captain, it's...it's me..."
Yan Zhen laughed angrily: "Fine, very well. Deliberately providing trainees with substandard weapons in an attempt to influence the competition results. Zhao Yang, you not only violated military training discipline, but you also insulted this uniform!"
He turned to the entire room, his voice booming: "I hereby announce that Instructor Zhao Yang is suspended from duty pending investigation, effective immediately! Furthermore, based on the evidence provided, Zhao Yang has repeatedly physically punished trainees, accepted bribes, and falsified assessment results during the past three years of military training. He will be tried by a military court!"
A gasp of surprise erupted from the student group. Zhao Yang's face turned ashen; he staggered back a few steps and was restrained by two armed police officers.
Han Feng walked up to Zhao Yang, his voice calm yet clear to everyone: "Instructor Zhao, don't forget to keep your promise."
Zhao Yang's lips trembled. Under Yan Zhenguo's stern gaze, he had no choice but to face all the students, his voice barely a whisper: "I...I apologize to Han Feng...I shouldn't have questioned his abilities..."
"Speak louder!" Yan Zhen shouted.
"I apologize to Han Feng!" Zhao Yang practically shouted, his face drained of color. "I admit... I had no right to question him..."
Han Feng nodded, then turned to Yan Zhen and gave him a crisp military salute: "Thank you, Commander-in-Chief, for upholding justice."
Yan Zhen returned the greeting, his eyes full of admiration.
The other students then began their target practice, while Han Feng was taken to a small hut by Yan Zhen and Chen Feng, where Zhao Yang was being held up.
As soon as they entered the small room, Yan Zhen eagerly said, "Young man, your marksmanship... is impressive. Interested in joining the Armed Police Special Forces after graduation?"
Chen Feng couldn't help but laugh out loud from behind, and was glared at by Yan Zhen.
Zhao Yang, standing to the side, stared at Yan Zhen in disbelief.
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