The afternoon sun shone through the windows of the shooting classroom and onto the classroom floor, reflecting bright spots of light.
The students in the class focused on aiming at the target and tried to adjust the muzzle to find the best angle to shoot.
Lin Yin stood at the firing line, her hand holding the gun tightly, her deep eyes fixed on the target in front of her.
Her index finger pulled the trigger again, and there was a vibration from her palm. The next second, the bullet deviated from the target.
Even though Lin Yin felt that she was already aiming seriously, her shooting was not ideal.
In the past, when she threw stones, she had never missed so badly. Lin Yin couldn't help but feel a little depressed.
Hou Ning walked to Lin Yin's side with a cold gaze. Looking at the results of Lin Yin's shooting, she said calmly, "Lin Yin, there's still a lot of room for improvement in your shooting skills. A great deal!"
