Folklore Chronicles: The Miao Ancestral Shamans," Chapter 4, Section 1, "Shooting Practice

The next day, I was summoned to the regiment headquarters, and the duty soldier there led me straight to the regiment's dedicated shooting range. When I arrived, there was already a group of people gathered. Other than the familiar face of the chief of staff, I didn't recognize anyone else.

"Let's begin!" announced the stout colonel. Could he be the regiment commander? I wondered quietly to myself (according to the schedule, we would meet the regiment commander at the regiment-wide meeting after being assigned to our units tomorrow).

A captain brought me to a table where a Type 95 automatic rifle and seven or eight magazines filled with bullets were laid out.

"Now, we'll give you a test. Shoot the target 100 meters away before you within three minutes. There's no limit on the number of shots, and there are no restrictions on shooting techniques," the captain explained. I glanced at the target, a lonely figure hanging on the wall 100 meters away.

"Get ready, and then start," the captain said before moving behind me. He held a stopwatch and observed my every move.

Having learned from my experience the day before, I didn't rush to pick up the rifle. Instead, I looked in the direction of the target until it seemed bigger in my sight, gaining some confidence. Then, I picked up the rifle and took a prone position. The captain behind me had already started the stopwatch. "Get ready, and fire when you're ready. I'll start timing from your first shot."

"Pop, pop, pop," I pulled the trigger, quickly emptying the first magazine at an average rate of one shot per second. I changed magazines, but this time, I had only fired a few shots when I was told to stop.

"Cease fire!" shouted the colonel who had announced the start. "Stop shooting, and report the scores." After waiting for two minutes with no scores reported, I stood up, hearing the chief of staff laugh and say, "Just like yesterday, waited for half a day and still no scores reported. Were you scared again?"

The colonel gave me a glance, seeming a bit impatient. He raised his voice and shouted, "Report the scores!" Still, there was no response. The colonel's face darkened, and just as he was about to erupt, the scorekeeper ran over, carrying the target.

The scorekeeper pointed to the target in front of everyone and saluted the colonel. "Reporting, the scores cannot be accurately reported!" By now, the colonel had noticed that the red dot at the center of the target had turned into a black hole. Apart from that black hole, there was no other bullet hole anywhere on the target.

Bullseye on every shot! It caused quite a commotion. The colonel squinted at the target for a while, then suddenly twitched at the corner of his eye and picked up binoculars to look at the wall where the target had been hanging. "You shot through the wall..."

My mind was slow to process this, and I blurted out, "I didn't do it on purpose."

"No need for compensation," the colonel said with an unusual smile. "You can smash the entire wall if you want. Kid, how did you shoot so accurately?"

"With my hands..."

From that day onwards, I was assigned to the regiment's direct security company as an exception. Besides the daily drills and training, I would occasionally put on a show of hitting the bullseye with a single shot. Later, as the "performances" got tedious, I would "accidentally" miss a shot or two, scoring fives and sixes. Yet, my name remained on the military district's list of top marksmen.

Two more months passed, and it was time for the military district skills competition. I was held back as a secret weapon for the shooting event. The first major turning point in my life was about to begin.

There wasn't much suspense in the shooting competition of the skills competition. I participated in the 200-meter prone position shooting. Leading the pack was Liu Yiyuan, the captain from the 6th Regiment who had won last year's championship. I was scheduled to be the last to compete. Thanks to the excellent secrecy maintained by our regiment commander, no one in the other regiments knew of my existence.

Watching Liu Yiyuan perform with almost textbook precision in raising the rifle, aiming, and firing, "Pop, pop, pop!" he completed five shots. The scorekeeper raised a red flag, "46 points!" It was the best score before my turn, and it seemed like the championship was once again his for the taking in the eyes of others.