Chapter Sixteen: A Duel of Real Weapons and the Choice

The chief instructor’s words left me utterly stunned.

“One hundred rounds?” I whispered in disbelief. Honestly, it was something beyond my imagination.

At that moment, I seemed to sense countless envious, jealous, and resentful gazes directed my way.

Yet, I couldn’t shake the feeling that things weren’t so simple. Not only was our military training taking place in an actual military camp, but the shooting practice itself was unheard of—no school I knew of took military training so seriously, especially when it came to teaching students how to handle firearms.

Perhaps it was my upbringing, but I never believed in luck or windfalls, and maybe it was just my own misgivings.

Shaking my head to dismiss such thoughts, I focused on the fact that practicing with real guns was already a meaningful and unforgettable experience for me. Whatever else might be behind it, I’d know when the time came—or not, if it wasn’t meant to be.

After being granted more live-fire practice than others, the chief instructor allowed me to leave the group and practice shooting on my own.

But I chose not to. Each day, I continued training under the stern instructor, carrying wooden rifles weighted with bricks, only heading to the shooting range near the end of each session to practice aiming, and then firing off my hundred rounds amidst the envy and admiration of my peers.

After two days, the chief instructor noticed that I never missed at the hundred-meter targets, so he had me try at two hundred meters.

Hitting the hundred-meter targets had filled me with confidence, but at two hundred meters, my shots only landed in the eighth and ninth rings.

Seeing my struggle, the chief instructor explained that greater distance meant more variables: wind speed and eyesight, among others.

Two hundred meters was neither far nor near.

“So what should I do?” I asked earnestly.

The chief instructor took the rifle and attached a scope.

“This will help. The rest is up to your own understanding,” Hua Wannian said, patting my shoulder before leaving, a faint smile curling at his lips.

Through the scope, the target at two hundred meters appeared as if it were only twenty meters away.

Bang! I aimed and fired a shot.

Through the lens, I saw a new bullet hole appear in the ninth ring of the target.

Adjusting my aim, I quickly figured out how to hit the bullseye.

It became easy for me to score tens, but over the next two days, I practiced trying to have my bullets pass through the same hole.

I’d seen on TV how special forces could shoot with such precision that all their bullets went through a single hole, or even cluster a burst of rounds into a perfect circle.

Given the chance, I couldn’t resist trying it for myself.

But after a few attempts, I realized just how difficult it was.

Even though I could reliably hit the ten ring, no matter how carefully I aimed, the bullet holes were never exactly the same.

Suddenly, I remembered what the chief instructor had said about wind speed. Waiting for a calm moment, I aimed and fired two shots, and finally, the bullets nearly passed through the same hole.

I was now certain that wind speed had a significant impact on the trajectory of bullets.

However, I knew little about wind-related knowledge.

At that moment, I had the urge to return to school and study diligently. I thought, if I could learn to calculate how wind affects bullets, and predict exactly where the shots would land, wouldn’t I be able to hit anything I aimed at, without fail?

But I also knew such dreams were not realistic—not because I doubted my ability to learn, but because I doubted whether I would ever have the chance to handle firearms again.

Compared to joining the military, I preferred the idea of going to college, finding a girlfriend, getting married, and living a simple life.

Call me detached, call me unambitious, but this is the most honest desire of a lazy, ordinary person like me.

“Two days left until the end of military training. In light of everyone’s outstanding performance, I’ve decided to let you play a big team battle,” the chief instructor said as he gathered us at the shooting range.

Seeing everyone’s puzzled expressions, he continued with satisfaction: “Each participant will receive fifty rounds—blank cartridges, of course. You’ll be divided into two battalions to face off. When only fifty people remain, the first stage of the battle will end.”

When he announced that everyone would get to handle guns and receive ammunition, most people were thrilled.

“Chief instructor, will blank cartridges kill someone?” A voice from one of the groups dampened the excitement instantly.

Indeed, could they kill? What if someone got injured or worse—what if someone died?

Many started to worry.

“While blanks are almost non-lethal, they can still cause injury. Within five meters, there’s a risk. So, here’s the second point I need to make,” the chief instructor said.

“This exercise is not mandatory. Those who want to participate and don’t want to regret missing out can sign up. Anyone who doesn’t wish to join can stay in the camp and watch the battle.”

“One more thing: never aim at anyone’s head. If you’re caught doing so, you’ll be eliminated immediately. This is a safety requirement—please remember it.”

“Now, rest where you are. We’ll regroup in half an hour.” With that, the chief instructor sat down to chat with the other instructors.

The remaining students looked at each other.

“Are you going to join?”

“I will. You’re asking me, but what about you? If you go, I’ll go. If you don’t, I won’t.”

“We’ve lasted a whole month. Now that it’s time for a reward, should we shrink back? I can’t do that.”

“This is too dangerous. If my mom finds out, she’ll scold me.”

“I’m not going.”

“Forget it, I’ll pass. I’ll watch you guys perform.”

...

“Brother Yu, what about you?” Ma Liang came over to ask.

It’s worth mentioning that Ma Liang was among those who passed the initial trial. After several days of practice, he was consistently hitting the ninth ring, occasionally scoring tens when luck was on his side—a top performer among our peers.

“Of course I’ll participate. Missing out on something this interesting would be a lifelong regret. What, are you scared?” I teased him gently.

Ma Liang’s face immediately flushed bright red.

“Who’s scared? If you’re not, why should I be? You’re right—if I never join the army, this will be the last time I ever touch a gun. Miss it, and it’s gone forever.”

I nodded, saying nothing more.

As for whether to join this somewhat dangerous game, everyone had their own opinions. Some saw it as a chance to vent a month’s frustrations, some didn’t want to miss the experience, some feared the risks, and some simply couldn’t be bothered.

Soon enough, the whistle sounded—it was time to gather.

“Now, I trust you’ve made up your minds. Those willing to participate, assemble in the open area to the left,” the chief instructor announced.

I followed the crowd toward the left.

Once the teams split, it was obvious—most chose to participate, with only three or four hundred staying behind.