Dada da.
Good gun techniques are honed through countless bullets. It’s only the second day of practice, yet Su Ziyu feels much improved from yesterday. His physical coordination has strengthened significantly, and as he gradually adapts to the recoil of various firearms, his accuracy has sharply increased. By the end, he can hit stationary targets with almost perfect precision. However, shooting moving targets is still a challenge; this requires a lot of experience and can’t be mastered in a short ti.
Pa pa pa.
Pasha walked over, applauding, and praised, "You learn fast. I have to say, you have a lot of talent."
"You’re too kind," Su Ziyu smiled, casually changing a magazine.
Learning to use firearms is genuinely much easier than learning White Crow Swordsmanship. For an average person, just a few days of practice can make one competent. With a little talent, one can aim quite accurately at stationary targets.
But Su Ziyu is clearly not satisfied.
This level of gun technique is simply inadequate; he needs at least a sharpshooter’s level of skill.
Ti flies during practice.
Pasha seems preoccupied today, frequently getting distracted. Several tis, she opens her mouth to say sothing, but ultimately remains silent.
Eventually, Su Ziyu speaks up.
"Sothing on your mind?" He looks at the woman beside him; she’s the person he’s most familiar with in this world.
Pasha hesitates, then gently nods, "Yes."
"What’s up?" Su Ziyu thinks for a mont and says, "If there’s anything I can do to help, I can try."
With her head down, Pasha speaks slowly, her expression unclear, "We’re about to re-enter the Southern Cross. We can’t abandon the data in there."
"Going there again?" Su Ziyu ponders, then slowly says, "That place is really dangerous."
That place unnerves Su Ziyu.
Very unnerving.
Pasha turned her head to look into the distance, quietly saying, "For Freelancers to grow strong, we can’t always be constrained by pharmaceuticals."
"We have no choice."
Su Ziyu glances at her and asks, "When do we set off?"
Pasha looks up at him, murmuring, "The day after tomorrow."
"Do you want my help?" Su Ziyu smiles, saying, "Sure. But I need so compensation."
Pasha’s eyes light up slightly, and she stares at the man in front of her, asking, "What do you want? We can satisfy any request as long as it’s within our capability."
"So money, so pharmaceuticals, not too much." Su Ziyu contemplates for a mont and slowly says, "And an anti-material sniper rifle, powerful, easy to handle, and simple to maintain."
Pasha gives Su Ziyu a rather surprised look, asking, "Is that all?"
"That’s enough," Su Ziyu smiles, revealing a row of white teeth.
Even though he really wanted this world’s exoskeleton power armor, it’s evidently of astounding value, and Freelancers might not be willing to give it to him. Besides, exoskeleton power armor requires miniature nuclear batteries to operate, and its energy consumption is significant. Once he leaves this world, it would quickly run out of energy after only brief usage. Su Ziyu has no ability to carry around such several-hundred-pound hunks of iron, so he might as well choose so high-power but more portable weapons. The camp’s outskirts are filled with ordinary firearms; the truly powerful weapons are controlled by the Freelancers.
"No problem," Pasha imdiately agrees, then slightly lowers her head with so embarrassnt, saying, "Thank you."
She knows Su Ziyu agreed partly because of their relationship.
Heading back, the sky grows darker.
Along the way, Pasha occasionally glances at him, and when she notices his awareness, she quickly averts her gaze.
Upon their return to the camp, a man who appears to be an officer quickly approaches, his expression extrely serious, whispering sothing with Pasha on the side. Su Ziyu can’t hear clearly because of the distance, but he vaguely catches words like "missing" and "dead." After the man finishes speaking, Pasha’s expression also turns serious. She briefly bids farewell to Su Ziyu before leaving.
Just entered Polaris.
Su Ziyu senses a strange atmosphere. The streets are unusually deserted; even the Indians selling roasted rats are gone, and the usually active black people on the streets have dwindled significantly. They can only occasionally be seen in dark alleys. That one-eyed woman stands at the bar entrance with old Bill beside her, both conversing in low tones.
Sothing’s off.
Sothing is happening here.
Su Ziyu quickly heads towards the inn, and even before approaching, he notices many people—all white—standing at the entrance. The young man who often appears at night is standing there, his gaze icy cold and filled with intense hostility, no longer hiding his sharp edge. These people are all ard; Su Ziyu even spots sothing that looks like a rocket launcher, though it’s covered with canvas.
"Don’t go out tonight," the young man warns Su Ziyu, his voice deep.
Su Ziyu feels puzzled but knows it’s not the ti to ask questions, so he simply nods gently.
He doesn’t see old Bob.
Logically, old Bob should be here at this ti, and this realization makes his heart sink, sensing that sothing major might happen today.
Night falls.
Outside is pitch black, but the streets are almost void of people. All those who used to wander the streets have disappeared, and it seems all the shops have closed. Many guards are stationed at the inner gate, two or three tis the usual number, but they haven’t co out; instead, they’re vigilantly standing on the towers on the high walls.
Then, Su Ziyu hears gunfire.
Having been here for two to three days, Su Ziyu has never heard such piercing gunfire before. Polaris has its unique order; although there are frequent fights, it’s rare for firearms to be used within the camp. Even if there are, they’re equipped with silencers, so they can’t be heard from a distance.
A series of rapid gunshots sounds.
Su Ziyu even hears the explosion of grenades and a muffled ’bang,’ seemingly the sound of a sniper rifle.
"What’s happening?" Su Ziyu moves to the corridor, looking northward. So areas there are already on fire, and the continuous gunfire sounds like a battle. The firepower is genuinely intense; Su Ziyu thinks it’s not much weaker than the Freelancers’ guards. He even hears the sound of heavy machine gun fire and sees the explosive flas rising after a rocket launch.
Click.
The room door next door opens, and a burly man steps out. He has a cigar in his mouth, takes a deep draw, then glances at Su Ziyu without a word, turning his head to look at the battlefield in that direction. The man’s expression is relaxed and casual, as if he’s not watching a war but a splendid fireworks display.
He’s wearing a short-sleeved shirt this ti.
On the man’s arm, Su Ziyu sees an extrely distinctive triangular insignia. Pasha had once ntioned this to him.
—"Brotherhood."
.........
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