Angry glares, like sharp blades, came at her mixed with the light of fire.
Mo Shangjun remained calm, yet the faint smile and languor in her narrow phoenix eyes gradually vanished, leaving behind only sternness in the depths of her dark pupils.
"Disagree?" Mo Shangjun asked, with furrowed brows and a cold stare, enunciating each word with crisp clarity.
"Yes!"
A single word roared from everyone's throat, resonant and powerful, as if using all their strength to reach the skies.
Mo Shangjun's gaze swept across to see each angry face, feeling the tangible rage that seemed to coalesce into intense murderous intent coming at her.
After a moment, Mo Shangjun spoke, "Then, I'll give you two hours to prove it to me."
The eyes of those in formation flickered with surprise, yet more so with confidence and determination!
They were not novices!
They had the ability!
They could do it!
So, no matter what tricks Mo Shangjun played, they would complete the task, even if it killed them!
"Two events," Mo Shangjun continued, "shooting, pistol and rifle, twenty rounds, three positions to alternate; and a 400-meter obstacle course, five runs, all based on my results. If ten percent of you exceed me, I will apologize to all of you."
"..."
Suddenly, the hostility and anger in their eyes lessened considerably.
Doubt and bewilderment prevailed.
Only ten percent needed to beat her score?
Just ten percent?!
That barely made up about a dozen people!
Did she, a young woman, truly have that much confidence?!
Damn it, if less than thirty percent did, where would that leave the faces of these grown men?!
"Are you in or out?" With her arms crossed, Mo Shangjun raised an eyebrow at them.
"In!"
The unanimous roar almost startled the formation next to theirs.
"Company Commander Lang." Turning her head, she tossed the whistle she held to Lang Yan, Mo Shangjun said, "Help with the judging, will you?"
"Okay."
Catching the whistle, Lang Yan quickly agreed.
Under the current circumstances, a competition was inevitable; it was the only way for those whelps to settle down.
However—
He was somewhat looking forward to seeing those whelps lose.
*
Since the benchmarks were based on Mo Shangjun's performance, she would have to demonstrate both events first.
Next to the training field was the shooting range, and when a crowd hurried over, pistols, rifles, and two magazines were all prepared in advance by someone.
In the empty shooting range, swept over by the cold wind, the atmosphere was heavy and solemn.
Mo Shangjun and Lang Yan walked in the front, with the entire lineup following in an orderly manner behind them, with even their steps matching.
"Should we time it?"
Stopping, Lang Yan asked Mo Shangjun.
"No need."
Mo Shangjun shrugged.
"All right."
Lang Yan nodded.
The lineup behind them also halted, every person looking somber, their gaze fixated on Mo Shangjun.
Under everyone's watchful eyes, Mo Shangjun approached the firing point.
She picked up the rifle, loaded the magazine, aimed in the prone position, released the safety, and pulled the trigger without hesitation.
Smooth as flowing clouds, completed in one breath!
"Bang bang bang—"
The sound of gunfire erupted, deafening.
The onlookers watched with bated breath, unblinkingly observing her shooting technique; her form was as textbook-perfect as can be, something that could not be achieved without years of training.
The sound of gunfire continued, echoing across the vast space, whistling past their ears. They watched intently, yet felt overwhelmingly tired, almost out of breath.
Prone, kneeling, standing—she alternated between the three shooting positions, switching between the two firearms without any pause, not even taking time to aim. She was only there to shoot!
But through their eyes, it left them dumbfounded.
An expert reveals themselves the moment they begin!
All of them had received firearm training, how could they not recognize the standardization in Mo Shangjun's movements?!
After a while, having emptied two magazines, Mo Shangjun took the gun back.
"You two were schoolmates?"
Lang Yan took a few steps back and came to Lin Qi's side, asking with a raised eyebrow.
"Report, yes!"
Lin Qi stood at attention and responded clearly, enunciating each word.
A little helpless against her strict formality, Lang Yan sighed and continued to ask, "Do you know her well?"
"Report, I do not know her well!" Lin Qi still answered rigidly.
After some thought, Lang Yan changed his approach and asked, "Familiar with her?"
"Report, she does not recognize me!"
Lin Qi replied with a straight face.
"Pff."
Lang Yan couldn't help but burst into laughter.
Lin Qi looked at him with a puzzled expression.
Regaining composure, Lang Yan cleared his throat, pretended to be serious, and started, "Just tell me, what do you know about her?"
Understanding Lang Yan's intent, Lin Qi thought for a moment before replying, "Someone from their academy once evaluated her."
"Oh?"
"She's the kind of person who will put forth as much effort as she wants to achieve something," Lin Qi said slowly and deliberately.
This was someone else's evaluation of Mo Shangjun.
In fact, she leaned more towards "Mo Shangjun is the kind of person who shows the requisite abilities for whatever she wants to achieve."
In other words, Mo Shangjun rarely, if ever, gave it her "all-out effort." It was rumored that if she wished to win a scholarship, even though she had the ability to get perfect scores in every subject, she would maintain an average of ninety percent.
Of course, this was just hearsay.
Mo Shangjun was, after all, one of the top ten unsolved mysteries of their academy.
"So, she didn't give her best performance?" Lang Yan asked with interest.
Composing herself, Lin Qi stated, "I don't believe she gave her best effort."
Lang Yan nodded, seemingly understanding yet perplexed.
During the conversation between the two, the person in charge of target scoring had already recorded the data and was coming their way.
As he passed by Mo Shangjun, he paused specially and swept her an odd glance.
"Company commander."
He handed the sheet with the recorded data to Lang Yan.
As Lang Yan's gaze swept over it, a flicker of astonishment flashed across his eyes.
The person who recorded the data glanced at him cautiously, then quietly stepped aside.
"Cough," After reviewing the paper a second time, Lang Yan folded it up, took two steps back, and unconsciously glanced towards Mo Shangjun before meeting her calm gaze and looking away again. He raised his voice to declare, "A hundred and ninety rings!"
Twenty bullets, a hundred and ninety rings. Not exactly bull's-eye every time, but on average, that's 9.5 rings per shot, an extremely excellent score.
You have to understand, scoring fifty rings with five bullets is easy, but with the speed and stance transitions of Mo Shangjun, plus alternating between pistol and rifle, to achieve such a score with twenty shots is indeed a few levels above the average person.
But—
As long as it's not two hundred rings, it's not unsurpassable!
So, although they felt some pressure, they knew there were indeed people among them capable of such a performance!
"Let's go."
Lang Yan waved his hand, signaling them to the 400-meter obstacle course.
The entire troop immediately turned in unison, marching in a disciplined and orderly fashion towards the training field.
Mo Shangjun followed behind them.
As for Lang Yan, he stayed put, watching their retreating figures and then silently exhaled before unfolding the paper in his hand.
Twenty bullets, one miss, a hundred and ninety rings.
Nineteen shots, all hitting the ten-ring.
Damn!
He didn't believe for a second that the miss wasn't deliberate!