```
For twenty days, Zhang Fan spent most of his time playing with guns, doing that freaky game of circling in and out with Hua Ling in the morning, martial arts at noon, guns in the afternoon, and in the evening, a 20-kilometer cross-country with a 40KG load.
Even the time for dual cultivation with Zhang Xiaoyuan could barely be squeezed in.
"Bang bang bang!"
At the Armed Department's training ground, a burst of gunfire rang out.
"Bullseye!"
"Captain scores 199 rings, Zhang Fan 200 rings!"
"Fuck, can the captain really hit 199 rings with a submachine gun?"
A crowd began expressing their surprise.
It'd be strange if Zhang Fan didn't score 200 rings. But Hua Ling, this improvement in marksmanship, is significant.
The veins on Hua Ling's forehead were throbbing.
If it had been any other time, he would have been jumping for joy.
But now, dammit, didn't you see the guy scored 200 rings? Are you celebrating for me or slapping my face?
Fuck!
A bunch of assholes!
