Hearing the name "Flossie Wright," Nancy Phillips frowned impatiently and complained, "Bring hers over and do—"
She didn't finish speaking.
Nancy Phillips's gaze fixed on the humanoid target.
She was stunned.
Ciara Clark raised her eyebrows smugly, but the astonishment and excitement hidden in the depths of her eyes were not completely concealed.
All of the bullets on Flossie Wright's humanoid target were concentrated on the face.
Starting from the forehead, a dense mass scattered gradually, looking not like a mishap, but deliberate, creating row upon row of marks.
And—
Elsewhere, there were only a few stray bullets.
With her eyebrows tightly knotted, Nancy Phillips thought for a moment and asked in a deep voice, "What about hers from yesterday?"
"You saw yesterday's, didn't you?" Ciara Clark walked up to the target and said, "Excellent performance, but not particularly outstanding among the top shooters."
