A day later, in the suburbs of Maquette City, northern Wisconsin.
Wisconsin, also known as Huan State, is close to the Five Great Lakes Region. With its temperate continental climate, winters here are bitterly cold and sumrs are blazing hot. The state boasts a forest cover of 45%, the highest in Beautiful Country.
A Chevrolet SUV pulled up in front of a fence in the wilderness, and as the door opened, Song Heping got out of the car.
He glanced at the wooden gate in front of him, then at the wooden sign next to it with the English warning written on it—"Private property, trespassers will be prosecuted!"
Beneath those words, a hand-drawn skull was sketched, looking ferocious and intimidating.
Looking around, he saw nothing but large trees and wild grasses.
Not even a single telephone pole was in sight.
Song Heping then examined the barbed wire on the fence, which bore another sign—"High Voltage, Danger!"
Below it was drawn a lightning bolt symbol.
Upon checking further, he found a doorbell and a security cara mounted on a nearby tree, so he pressed it a few tis.
No response for a while.
He pressed it a few more tis.
Still no response.
So he took out his cell phone and started dialing Barrett's number.
It rang for a long ti with no answer.
Then it went through to voicemail.
Song Heping left a ssage, "Brian, this is Song Heping, the defense company owner who contacted you yesterday. I'm now outside your door, and you didn't pick up my call, so I'll go inside and wait for you."
About three kiloters away, Barrett glanced at the cell phone vibrating on the ground next to him.
He picked it up, and on the screen was Song Heping.
He accessed his voicemail and soon heard the ssage inside.
But he had no intention of dealing with Song Heping right away.
Ever since he left the DEA, there had been no shortage of people inviting him back to work, but he couldn't be bothered to so much as spare them a glance.
This person had contacted him the day before, claiming to be the owner of a defense company.
Barrett guessed that he was probably inviting him to join their company, or perhaps for so operation in xico.
He knew xico all too well.
He had spent six years undercover there, imrsed amidst drug traffickers.
But the ending had been painful.
He had intended to refuse this Chinese man's invitation to et, but recently, he had suddenly taken an interest in this person's identity.
After all, this was the first Chinese to seek him out.
And so, as if possessed, Barrett agreed to et for a detailed discussion.
But he insisted that if they wanted to et him, they would have to co to Wisconsin, to Maquette City.
After all, asking for help should look like asking for help.
Barrett didn't plan to get involved, but if they could co to an agreent, he would be willing to offer so consulting services and give so advice.
Now that the person had arrived, Barrett happened to be target practicing by the lake. To him, shooting was more important than eting.
"Just wait," he said.
After that, he gave a disdainful smile and continued to lie down, focusing intently on aiming through the scope.
As for that Chinese man, he would not be able to get in.
Because the warning signs at the door were no joke; his piece of private land truly had various traps and mines.
Wandering around could be deadly.
Today's target was a buoy swaying about a kiloter away on the lake.
Barrett enjoyed playing with guns and had great confidence in his marksmanship.
He was adept with all types of firearms.
The gun in front of him was the Remington M700, a pri contender among civilian sniper rifles.
How good was it?
The military also found it useful and requested Remington Company to develop a military version based on the M700, the M24—evidence of its excellent and stable performance.
Previously, Barrett could effortlessly hit the bullseye of a fixed target at one thousand ters.
But this ti, he challenged himself to shoot at water targets at a thousand ters.
Water targets were different from fixed ground targets, as the water surface would oscillate even when still, especially with the wind at about grade five today.
The buoy on the water a kiloter away was rather unruly, and hitting it was not so easy.
Bang—
After the first shot, the buoy didn't budge.
Instead, a splash rose to the right rear.
"Off to the right..." Barrett muttered with a light sigh.
After all, it was a high-difficulty task...
A moving target...
And at one thousand ters.
The challenge was indeed not small.
Bang—
After the second shot, the buoy trembled slightly.
This ti he saw it clearly through the scope.
A near miss.
He was still not satisfied.
The sniping continued.
Soon, he was imrsed in the pleasure of sniping and completely put out of his mind that soone was waiting for him outside his door.
However, his performance today was very unstable.
He hit the target four tis out of ten shots.
The hit rate was too low.
This stirred up his competitive spirit.
After emptying one magazine, he loaded another.
Soon, he was surrounded by a pile of spent casings.
After he emptied another magazine, Barrett sighed again, for he never fully captured the feeling of hitting the bullseye that day.
The most cherished feeling for a marksman was this unity of man and gun.
Once he had found that feeling and noted it down, it was like unlocking the "Ren" and "Du" ridians from that point on, never missing a shot at that distance or difficulty level again.
Just as he was about to collect the empty cartridges around him to go and reload the ammo, a man's voice suddenly ca from behind.
"There's a Tornado at eight hundred ters, you didn't notice it."
Barrett was startled, and he sprang up from the ground, drawing his pistol at lightning speed towards the direction of the voice.
Standing behind him was a Chinese man.
Yes.
It was the Chinese man who had just been standing at the door.
Song Heping!
That was his na.
"FUCK! How did you get in here?"
He almost shrieked.
Because he had set up many landmines and traps throughout this large territory, as he had been undercover in a xican drug cartel for six full years, fearing enemies would co to his door.
Without his guidance, it would be impossible for soone to get in unless a professional minesweeping team was dispatched.
Not only did he manage to get in, but when had he stood behind him without being detected at all?
This was bizarre!
"Ah, I walked in."
Song Heping raised his hands and wiggled them to indicate he ant no harm.
"I'm asking how you managed to walk here!"
Barrett's voice was so shocked that it almost changed shape.
Song Heping suddenly realized, "You an those landmines and traps? Sorry, I vaguely heard gunfire, waited for you a long ti, and feared sothing happened to you, so I ca in on my own. I didn't expect to find you hiding here practicing shooting. You were so focused I didn't want to disturb you. I disard so of your traps and landmines along the way, but I haven't damaged them, you can restore them, it's quite simple."
Barrett wanted to speak but found he didn't know what to say.
If this person was an assassin sent by the drug cartel, he would definitely be a goner by now.
After swallowing hard, Barrett asked, "What unit did you train with? Delta? Seal? Or SAS?"
He nad so of the top-notch Special Forces units.
Song Heping shook his head, "No, I've never been to those places. I previously served in my motherland, but I was a pig farr."
"A pig farr?! FUCK! A pig farr?!"
Barrett felt insulted.
"Put your gun away first, don't shoot by accident, I'm not your enemy."
Song Heping soothed him while his gaze fell on the M700 sniper rifle, asking curiously, "Can I take a few shots?"
Barrett holstered his pistol, looked back at his sniper rifle, and then at Song Heping, "You think you can hit the target?"
He pointed towards the target area.
Song Heping looked into the distance.
The weather today was quite nice, just windy, and the wind over the lake, due to the temperature and the water surface, would cause so strange Tornadoes.
Song Heping had just used a small monocular from his pocket to observe that at eight hundred ters, the direction of the swaying grass by the water often changed.
It was a tricky wind.
The wind at the shooting position might be from the front-left or left, and when you adjusted right, thinking you could hit the bullseye, the warhead, after traveling eight hundred ters, suddenly beca affected by winds from different directions, causing it to deviate slightly.
It was a slight deviation because at such a great distance, a tiny divergence from its path could lead it to miss the target, which was the size of a basketball.
"I'll try, just three shots, is that okay?"
Song Heping was actually itching to shoot.
Back in his unit 203, he had perford similar tasks, albeit more challenging.
It had been a long ti since he shot, so it was normal to feel eager.
"Okay, go ahead."
Barrett crouched down dubiously and pressed three cartridges for Song Heping, handing the magazine over to him.
Song Heping glanced at the bullets inside and chuckled, "Reloaded ammo, huh? Not bad, what kind of warhead are you using?"
Barrett brightened up when he heard Song Heping ask about the warhead.
This ant that the fellow in front of him knew his stuff.
Because the usual ammunition for an M700 is .300 Winchester Magnum, which cos with different warhead weights for varying effects in different scenarios.
For instance, when hunting deer or larger animals like buffalo or boars, to ensure a one-shot kill, heavier warhead masses are generally better.
Hunters typically use 200-grain Hornady ELD-X warheads during hunting trips, which can leave the barrel at a velocity of 868 ters per second, capable of bringing down most ga within a distance of 500 ters.
However, although a heavier warhead has greater lethality and suffers less from crosswinds at dium distances, making it more accurate, past a thousand ters, its trajectory drops significantly.
A 200-grain warhead generally drops 39.3 inches at a range of 1000 ters, but its kinetic energy reaches an astonishing 2800 Joules. It's also possible to use even heavier warheads.
If used, the muzzle velocity could reach 1036 ters per second, the warhead could maintain supersonic speed up to 1600 ters away, hitting the enemy quicker even before they have a chance to react, and the trajectory drop isn't as severe.
But lighter warheads have their downsides; being light makes them more susceptible to drifting, requiring greater sniping skill and being more affected by the environnt.
Therefore, light warheads are the choice preferred by experts who pursue extre precision.
"Hornady ELD-M 178 grain warhead."
Barrett provided the answer.
Song Heping smiled, "You really go for the high-end stuff."
With that, he lay prone at the firing position, adjusted his stance, picked up the rifle, loaded, and chambered it, then aid.
Barrett watched as Song Heping's breathing gradually steadied and soon he was as still as a rock.
His eyebrows lifted.
This was soone who knew the ga.
Such steady breathing was a sure sign of an expert.
Bang—
The first shot fired quickly.
Song Heping rapidly cycled the bolt, ejecting the spent cartridge, chambering another round.
Bang—
The second shot fired just as fast.
Barrett hurriedly picked up the Observation Mirror from the ground and looked in the direction of the floating ball.
He saw the buoy bouncing on the water's surface.
Before it had settled, a third gunshot was heard.
Bang—
The third shot was fired.
The buoy bounced again.
Barrett's eyes widened and he cursed again, "FUCK! That's unreal!"
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