Madman.
Mu Yuyan looked at Ye Fan, thinking of him as a madman. Does a normal person play like this?
"Okay."
Li Feng had no objections, and it was the first ti the manager had seen such a ga. His forehead was covered in beads of sweat, but he couldn’t utter a word against it and directly brought over two black cloths.
Ye Fan looked at Mu Yuyan, his lips curling into a smirk as he said, "Make sure to tie it tight; if you don’t and I can see, he might indeed lose his head if he loses."
"Of course, if you are falling for , then tie mine a little loose. After I deal with him, you’ll be mine."
With gritted teeth, Mu Yuyan tightly tied the black cloth around Ye Fan’s head, while Zhu Jun did the sa for Li Feng.
"Tying it so tight, you’re quite ruthless, beautiful."
Ye Fan continued his flattery, standing aside, Zhu Jun said, "Let’s start with the gun disassembly."
Disassembling the guns was not about speed; the task was ant to add difficulty for each other. Each table had five guns, to be dismantled into their components—a basic task for mbers of the Guard.
Of course, assembling several guns’ components while blindfolded truly tested their familiarity with firearms, a common part of military training.
This kind of assessnt was popular in the Yan Country but rarely seen elsewhere.
Zhu Jun was unsure of Li Feng’s capabilities, but he had to be competent. However, this style of ga might not be his forte.
As for Ye Fan, a scion of the top families, he had been mingling in the Guard Camp since he was very little, spending every winter and sumr break being honed in the Guard.
Familiarity with guns was second nature to Ye Fan—his hands had touched firearms as often as he had fired rounds, not lesser than any veteran of the battlefield.
This was also a kind of privilege that regular recruits didn’t have.
With his eyes closed, Ye Fan could dismantle and reassemble the guns on the table—a confidence that made him dare to challenge Li Feng. He was reckless, but not foolish.
Zhu Jun noted Li Feng’s proficient disassembly, nodding to himself, while Mu Yuyan, who was watching Ye Fan, felt increasingly conflictladen, her gaze occasionally flickering to Li Feng.
He was unexpectedly fluent.
The online rumors described him as a pretty-boy sponger, having even been an inverse-insertion groom, but what was this display?
A normal man wouldn’t handle a gun so slickly.
And Zhu Jun and Ye Fan—they clearly weren’t simple either. The private garden they had previously visited would have been inaccessible in her lifeti if not for their guidance, as such places did not welco outsiders.
Yet here he was, interacting with these types. It was nothing like what was depicted online.
Who really was he?
Mu Yuyan’s curiosity intensified. Just as she was consud by confusion, Ye Fan placed the last component on the table.
"I’m done. Don’t tell you’re not finished yet."
"I am done as well."
Li Feng replied indifferently. Zhu Jun glanced and saw that both had almost finished simultaneously. The two were equally fast. by the administrator who wiped his sweat—he had been working at this shooting range for several years, maintaining these guns daily, but he couldn’t match their fluid speed of disassembly.
"Swap places."
Ye Fan and Li Feng, guided by others, walked around to each other’s tables, facing each other now.
Zhu Jun spoke, turning to look at the manager, "Take Miss Mu outside."
The manager nodded and led Mu Yuyan to the back. Turning back, Zhu Jun said,
"I’ll count to three, then you start."
"One."
"Two."
"Three, begin."
As Zhu Jun counted to three, Li Feng and Ye Fan simultaneously began to move, the table bearing five disassembled guns, none mutually compatible. To assemble a gun correctly required finding the exact parts among all the scattered components.
And since both were blindfolded, locating the components from the jumble was no easy task.
This demanded an extre familiarity with firearms.
Zhu Jun’s gaze shifted from side to side. Both participants were discerning gun parts with their hands, with Ye Fan placing needed components in front of him, choosing to assemble a pistol, as it was more convenient for him.
Mid-search, Ye Fan realized all components were together, requiring no rummaging.
Dammit.
What’s this Li thinking? Looking down on ?
If you’re asking for it, let give it to you, Ye Fan thought annoyed, for Li Feng’s actions felt like a slap in his face.
Zhu Jun noticed this too, exhaling silently. His gaze fixed on Li Feng who was already assembling the gun, moving so fluidly it was as if he could see the parts, his hands snagging each component without hesitation.
His speed.
Even faster than Ye Fan.
Impossible.
Zhu Jun couldn’t believe it, but a quick glance confird Li Feng was indeed faster.
Click.
When the magazine clicked in place, Ye Fan ripped off his blindfold—"You’re done for," he said. But as he opened his eyes, adjusting to the light, the barrel opposite was already aid at him.
This cannot be.
Ye Fan was shocked, aiming his gun at Li Feng. But as he pulled the trigger, a gunshot had already erupted from the barrel.
The two stood but five or six ters apart—a distance at which missing, unless intentional, was unlikely, the only question being who pulled the trigger first.
The bullet flew out at hundreds of ters per second, hitting the target on Ye Fan’s chest almost instantly.
At such close range, even the shock absorbed by a bulletproof vest felt like a harsh blow.
Ye Fan grunted, pulling his trigger in response.
"Ah!"
Mu Yuyan exclaid, astonished by the two n—how different was this from those cowboy showdowns of the eighteenth century?
Zhu Jun tensed, noting Ye Fan’s shot was off target, the bullet hitting no one knew where.
Bang.
Li Feng pulled the trigger again, and Zhu Jun saw a fresh blood streak across Li Feng’s cheek—these two wouldn’t really kill each other in a fit of anger, right?
Dammit.
Mu Yuyan covered her mouth, watching Ye Fan collapse backward.
Had there been a murder?
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