Chapter 72: 71 Wow, So Cool~

71 Wow, so cool~

“Bang!” “Bang!”

Amid a series of deafening gunshots, Leon picked up his beloved sniper rifle and strode into the Police Department’s shooting range.

Due to strict weapon controls in the capital, ordinary cases were handled with batons and whips; firearm use was rare, so few people practiced shooting.

Add to that it was a day off, so only three or five shooting positions were occupied in the vast range, with most stalls empty.

Empty is good~ Finally no need to wait in line for air tanks.

After satisfactorily surveying the empty range, Leon greeted the staff responsible for inspecting firearms and distributing ear protection, then carried two full boxes of nails to a shooting position closest to the air tank area and lay down.

Though he rarely came to the range due to scarce free time, Leon never slacked on badge progress—he’d come straight after work, shoot until the sun fully set.

Thanks to his diligent practice, he’d already completed over half the 5,000 live-fire shots required for badge advancement; just two thousand more shots would finish it, and at an average rate of two to three shots per minute, he’d need roughly thirteen to fourteen more hours.

After roughly calculating his progress, Leon didn’t start shooting immediately—he first looked up at the sky.

It didn’t look like rain, so he could probably shoot seven or eight more hours today; after dark, he’d go home to help Anna pack, hire a cart tomorrow morning to move his belongings to Happiness Apartments, then return to shoot four or five more hours—perfect.

Hmm… now that I think about it, the Witch’s Broom failing was perfectly timed.

Since he temporarily lacked a protective anomaly item, he couldn’t take missions easily, so he could come shoot during work hours and even arrive late in the morning with a clear conscience, sneakily moving his home—perfect~

After silently praising his luck, Leon wasted no more time—he raised the small yellow flag marking five hundred meters and waved it toward the supervisor’s position.

“Sigh…”

Seeing the familiar small yellow flag, the two supervisors exchanged a glance, then sighed in unison.

“Stop staring—go get the targets!”

After squinting at the shooter’s silhouette and confirming it was indeed that troublesome guy, the older supervisor rubbed his temples, helplessly saying:

“Bring a cart—grab bundles and bring them straight over. Sigh… ‘Rolling Bullet’ always leaves at sunset, but today he came early—this might take a long time.”

“I thought the same… sigh… you cover for me for a bit!”

Watching Leon, ear protectors on, calibrating his rifle in the distance, the younger supervisor sighed deeply, feeling utterly unlucky.

…

“Rolling Bullet” was the nickname the range staff privately gave Leon, because after mastering the range’s conditions and boosting his accuracy, he exclusively targeted the five-hundred-meter long-range targets.

Once nail rounds exceeded their maximum stable range, they uncontrollably tumbled midair; thus, Leon, who specialized in “Rolling Bullets,” earned the staff’s affectionate nickname… and their fervent wish that he’d roll away soon.

Why? Others’ shots left only small bullet holes; one target lasted forty to fifty shots. But “Rolling Bullets” that hit the target started with holes the size of a baby’s fist.

If the shot landed in a weak spot, just two or three rounds could split a wooden target clean in half—staff had to constantly replace targets. Combined with “Rolling Bullet’s” astonishing hit rate, serving him was more trouble than serving ten other officers.

Really… thought Sunday shift would be quiet, turned into a nightmare…

Pushing a cart piled high with targets, the younger supervisor trudged back to the control desk, gloomily asking:

“So, how’s ‘Rolling Bullet’ feeling today?”

“Incredible. He’s already shattered nearly fifty targets. But that’s not the worst part.”

After rubbing his tightly furrowed brow, the older supervisor groaned:

“I just checked ammo—‘Rolling Bullet’ took two full boxes today, over a thousand rounds!”

“What? Over a thousand? So he plans to shoot all day?!”

Hearing that terrifying number, the younger supervisor gasped sharply, his head throbbing—he gritted his teeth:

“Shooting eight hours straight… the rifle butt will break his bones! Doesn’t he fear pain?”

“I don’t know if he’ll die of pain, but if he shoots all day, you and I will die here.”

“…“

“No! Absolutely not—he can’t shoot all day!”

Looking at the heavy custom wooden targets on the cart, imagining replacing them hundreds of times today, the younger supervisor’s shoulders ached—he slammed his fist on the table, glaring fiercely:

“Come on! Let’s go beg him to move!”

“…“

So you’re planning to beg… then why do you look so fierce?

The older supervisor gave his colleague a silent look but didn’t object—he stood up, ready to join the plea, hoping to redirect the burden elsewhere and save his osteoporotic bones.

But before either could leave the control room, “Rolling Bullet”’s position had a visitor—a familiar figure approached him ahead of them.

That’s… the Secret Investigation Bureau’s Isa?

Seeing the female officer standing behind “Rolling Bullet,” hesitating as if wanting to speak, the two supervisors exchanged glances—both instantly recalled yesterday’s rumor.

Yesterday at noon, the Secret Investigation Bureau’s beauty carried a tray and sat opposite a man—but he clearly disliked it, refusing the unexpected favor and moving away.

Even more absurd: Isa, whose surname matched a military bigwig’s and whose background was undeniably powerful, shamelessly followed him—acting like a lovesick stalker, shocking everyone.

Though they eventually argued and parted bitterly—Isa even slammed her tray down—many saw her return, standing by the cafeteria door, staring dreamily at him…

Huh… so that guy… is “Rolling Bullet”?

Feeling a massive scandal about to unfold before him, the younger supervisor’s aching shoulders vanished—he perked up, eyes gleaming, glancing at his equally excited colleague.

“How about… waiting a bit longer?”

“Agreed!”