Chapter 360: The Chat Group Members Showing Off Their Skills at the Shooting Range
Wise exhaled a long, heavy breath, feeling a massive weight finally lift from his shoulders. Thanks to the station's built-in cognitive interference mechanism, they no longer had to spin elaborate webs of lies to protect their close friends. Better yet, this system effectively shielded them from the suffocating scrutiny and deep investigations that official organizations would inevitably bring down upon them.
It was a flawless solution, one that left him feeling an unmatched sense of relief.
Rolling his shoulders as if physically unloading a heavy burden, Wise felt that even controlling his proxy avatar felt a fraction lighter and more responsive.
He turned toward Zhongli and Dan Heng, offering a polite, slightly apologetic smile. "Mr. Zhongli, Dan Heng, please excuse me for a moment. I'm really... just a bit too curious about the equipment over there."
His gaze had already drifted uncontrollably toward a reinforced corner of the station, clearly marked with bold lettering: Shooting Range.
Zhongli offered a slight, understanding nod, his golden eyes calm. "Pay it no mind. One should naturally experience novel things when the opportunity arises. Truth be told, I am also quite curious about this facility."
Having received their silent blessing, Wise practically jogged toward the shooting range, his mood bordering on sheer boyish joy.
As seasoned Rope Masters, he and Belle spent their days handling the HDD system, exploring complex Aether theory, and mapping the treacherous Hollows. When it came to firearms and live-ammunition weaponry, their knowledge was strictly theoretical—mostly limited to late-night action movies and sensationalized news reports. The chances of them actually touching, let alone firing, a real gun were practically zero.
Now that the opportunity was sitting right in front of him, how could he possibly resist the itch to try?
However, the moment he eagerly stepped past the soundproofed threshold of the shooting range, the neat, disciplined, and uniform tactical training scenario he had envisioned shattered instantly. Instead, he was greeted by a scene of absolute, unadulterated chaos.
"Waaaaah—! Stop, I can't stop!"
Paimon's tiny, floating body was currently death-gripping an automatic rifle that was arguably larger than she was. The heavy muzzle spat a wild, continuous stream of fire. The immense recoil was entirely too much for her miniature frame, violently pushing her backward and causing her to spin crazily in mid-air like an out-of-control shuttlecock.
Brass casings rained down in a chaotic shower as her bullets sprayed wildly across the range. The green targets—clearly marked as 'hostages'—were instantly riddled with holes, completely shredded by her erratic crossfire. Meanwhile, the red targets representing the 'bandits' remained entirely unharmed, mocking her with their pristine condition.
"Pfft! Hahaha!" Hu Tao's bright, uncontrollable laughter echoed from the adjacent stall. The eccentric parlor director was wielding a sleek submachine gun, her plum-blossom eyes sparkling with pure thrill as she held the trigger down. "Da-da-da-da-da!"
Her bullets swept out in a wide, indiscriminate fan shape. Her accuracy was just as catastrophic as Paimon's, ruthlessly mowing down every single target in her lane, completely regardless of whether they were friend or foe.
"Haha, Director Hu, if your marksmanship were actually deployed on a real battlefield, I'm afraid the Wangsheng Funeral Parlor wouldn't have enough staff to handle the sudden boom in business!" Venti teased from the sidelines, thoroughly enjoying the chaotic spectacle.
Yet, despite his playful tone, the bard held a heavy automatic rifle with surprising competence. His posture was relaxed but incredibly stable. As someone who had wielded a bow and arrow for centuries, his innate understanding of trajectory, breathing, and aiming stability was leagues beyond that of an ordinary person.
He took a brief moment to adjust to the modern optical sight and the sensitive trigger pull. Then, he fired in rapid, controlled bursts. Bang, bang, bang!
The sharp cracks echoed through the range as Venti precisely picked off the red bandit targets one by one, hitting dead center every single time without missing a beat.
Wise watched this lively, highly entertaining, and slightly cringeworthy display, unable to hold back a genuine laugh.
Shaking his head, he walked over to the reinforced weapon rack, his eyes momentarily dazzled by the wide array of matte-black firearms.
He carefully picked up a compact, tactical pistol. Following the glowing holographic guidance projected by the nearby Z-Bao assistant, he clumsily loaded the heavy magazine, racked the slide to chamber a round, and nervously aimed at a distant target.
He pulled the trigger.
The pistol's sharp recoil snapped his wrists upward, far harder than he had anticipated. His arms shook, and a lone bullet hole appeared on the paper target—completely missing the center mass and grazing the outer edge.
"Yeah, this doesn't really seem to suit me..." Wise muttered under his breath, safely ejecting the magazine and setting the pistol back down.
He moved on to an assault rifle. In single-shot mode, the stability was somewhat acceptable, but the moment he switched to burst fire, the aggressive muzzle climb proved entirely too wild for his inexperienced hands to control.
Finally, his searching gaze landed on a rugged, heavy-duty tactical shotgun. He remembered seeing similar weapons in vintage action flicks; this type of firearm didn't require pinpoint accuracy and boasted devastating stopping power at close range.
He lifted the shotgun off the rack. Its dense, heavy weight immediately grounded him, bringing a strange, comforting sense of reliability.
Stepping up to the firing line, he braced the stock against his shoulder, aimed roughly at the cluster of targets downrange, and squeezed the heavy trigger.
BOOM!
With a deafening, dull roar, the weapon kicked back like a mule. The sheer force made Wise's shoulder sink slightly, but his stance held firm. It was manageable.
Downrange, multiple targets within a wide radius were instantly obliterated, leaving a massive, fan-shaped pattern of destruction in the reinforced wall behind them.
"This is it!" Wise's gray eyes lit up with sudden excitement.
The wide spread, the high fault tolerance, and the overwhelming close-quarter damage were absolutely perfect for a complete novice like him who lacked years of systematic military training.
He immediately locked the shotgun in as his primary weapon for the upcoming operation.
Just as he finalized his loadout, Wise glanced at the terminal and noticed a blinking blip on the radar. The transport vehicle carrying Section 6 was rapidly approaching Epis Port.
"Everyone!" Wise raised his voice, shouting over the echoing gunfire to grab the attention of the Chat Group members who were still happily wasting ammunition.
"Section 6 is almost here! Everyone, finalize your weapon choices as soon as possible. We need to gear up and move out. Once we rendezvous with them, we'll be entering the Hollow together!"
Hearing that the real operation was finally about to begin, the group immediately reined in their playful antics.
They quickly converged on the weapon racks, almost unanimously deciding to equip themselves with the various modern firearms provided by the Chat Group's armory.
After all, they had traveled to a completely novel universe. Participating in a localized 'Hollow Evacuation Operation' and experiencing the visceral thrill of modern firearm combat was half the fun of being here. If they just relied on their usual swords, polearms, and elemental bows, how would this be any different from clearing out hilichurls or fragmentum monsters back home?
The exact second the final member locked in their weapon choice, the familiar, crisp chime of the Chat Group echoed directly into everyone's minds.
[Weapon selection complete! Adaptive combat attire has been synchronized and distributed! Please strive to complete the mission and return safely!]
The moment the mechanical notification faded, a brilliant, sweeping light enveloped the avatars of every Chat Group member.
Their casual everyday clothing dissolved into digital data, instantly replaced by sleek, high-tech combat uniforms tailored perfectly to their individual aesthetics. It felt as though they had been washed over by an invisible, magical stream of light.
The new tactical gear struck a perfect balance between toughness and elasticity. Lightweight, matte-black protective armor plating covered their vital areas, ensuring maximum flexibility for high-speed movement while providing a formidable layer of defense against Aether-corrupted entities.
The designs were incredibly practical, featuring tactical webbing, utility pockets, and magnetic attachment points that fully catered to real combat needs.
Stelle looked down at her new tactical outfit, testing the range of motion in her arms and legs before nodding in deep appreciation. "Whoa, a one-click outfit change? This system service is seriously thoughtful. Saves me the trouble of digging through a wardrobe."
March 7th was already impatiently checking the safety mechanism on her new rifle, her pink hair bouncing as she urged her friend forward. "No time to stand around admiring the threads, Stelle! Hurry up, we can't let the locals wait for us!"
Thus, this highly unusual squad—dressed in matching, high-tech combat gear and heavily armed with weaponry from another world—quickly filed out of the magical station warehouse under Wise's lead. They moved with purpose, arriving early at the predetermined rendezvous point: a relatively secluded, weathered pier situated deep within the dock area of Epis Port.
It was still early in the day, and the heavy transport convoy belonging to Section 6 had not yet arrived.
A salty, humid sea breeze swept across the docks, carrying with it the distant, mournful blare of ship whistles and the sharp cries of circling seagulls.
The surrounding port was a hub of chaotic activity. Burly dockworkers shouted rough commands over the grinding noise of heavy machinery as they loaded and unloaded massive shipping containers. The thick air was heavily perfumed with the distinct, pungent blend of raw fish, heavy motor oil, and metallic rust.
Downtime always had a way of making people drop their guard and relax—especially for a certain floating little companion who was entirely driven by boundless curiosity and an endless appetite.
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