Chapter Fifteen: A Staggering Display of Skill

Long Feihu led Chu Feng and Old Wang to the base, and upon arrival, he ordered someone to gather everyone who was on duty. Soon, all those stationed at the base appeared, and they noticed a young man standing behind Long Feihu.

“This is our newest team member, Chu Feng. Let’s give him a warm welcome.”

With Long Feihu starting the applause, the other fifty or so people joined in, among them Cui Jianguo and Wang Chen.

“Ma Han, from now on, Chu Feng will be joining your group. You must do your utmost to help him get acquainted with the rules of Dragon Scale as quickly as possible,” Long Feihu said, calling out the middle-aged man standing on the far left of the first row.

“Chu Feng, this is your group leader, Ma Han. Including you, there are eight members in your team. You are part of our Dragon Scale Base’s Special Operations Group. Wang Chen, whom you met earlier, is also a member of this group,” Long Feihu introduced.

After the introduction, Long Feihu assigned Chu Feng to the Special Operations Group. This group rarely deployed, unless a direct order came from the top leader; otherwise, they would stay at the base for training or serve as instructors for special forces in the military district.

“Leader, isn’t it likely others will be dissatisfied if Chu Feng, a newcomer, joins our Special Operations Group straight away?” Ma Han didn’t understand why Long Feihu wanted a new recruit to join such an elite unit.

“In that case, let’s have a little contest to see if Chu Feng’s skills are up to joining your group,” Long Feihu suggested, leaving the details of the competition to the two of them.

“What do you think, Chu Feng?” Ma Han turned to Chu Feng, his eyes now brimming with competitive fire.

“If you think I’m not qualified to join, then let’s compete. If you lose, you owe me a meal. If I lose, I’ll treat everyone here,” Chu Feng replied, unfazed, even adding a wager before the contest.

“Haha! Very well, let’s have a shooting match. If you can score ninety rings, I’ll admit defeat,” Ma Han laughed, settling on a marksmanship contest.

“I’ve never fired a gun, but I can use something else. I’m quite skilled with throwing weapons,” Chu Feng admitted frankly that he couldn’t shoot, but he was confident in his skill with concealed weapons and didn’t fear his leader in this regard.

“All right, I’ll use a gun, you use your throwing weapons. If you can hit ninety rings, you win,” Ma Han agreed, surprised that Chu Feng couldn’t shoot, but accepting his challenge.

Soon, two targets were set up in the base. Wang Chen handed Ma Han an automatic rifle loaded with ten bullets to see how many rings he could score.

“Leader, you go first,” Chu Feng said, wanting to observe his leader’s marksmanship.

Rat-a-tat-tat—Ma Han didn’t hesitate. He raised the gun and fired, barely aiming, emptying the magazine in fifteen seconds. After he finished, Wang Chen rushed over to check the results.

“Reporting in, the leader scored ninety-eight rings,” Wang Chen’s voice came through the radio.

Long Feihu, standing to the side, nodded at the result—Ma Han’s marksmanship was as impressive as ever.

“All right, your turn. If you can hit ninety rings, I lose,” Ma Han reiterated the terms.

Chu Feng stood, gauging the distance to the target. With a flick of his right hand, two surgical scalpels appeared between his fingers.

Whoosh! In just fifteen seconds, Chu Feng hurled ten scalpels with lightning speed. Long Feihu, Ma Han, and Old Wang, who stood nearby, didn’t even see where Chu Feng drew the scalpels from.

“My god, a perfect score!” Wang Chen’s astonished voice crackled through Ma Han’s radio.

Ma Han’s eyes filled with disbelief at Wang Chen’s report; he hadn’t expected Chu Feng to achieve a perfect score with throwing weapons.

Everyone present heard the result and stared at Chu Feng in unison. Being the center of attention made Chu Feng a bit uneasy.

“I’m starting to suspect you’re an alien—no one’s ever scored a hundred rings with throwing weapons,” Long Feihu walked up to Chu Feng and clapped him on the shoulder.

“Wang Chen, bring Chu Feng’s target here. I want to see what he used to achieve a perfect score,” Ma Han said, still struggling to accept his defeat to a newcomer.

Soon, Wang Chen brought over Chu Feng’s target. In the bullseye, ten surgical scalpels were neatly embedded.

Everyone except Old Wang gasped at the sight. No one had expected Chu Feng’s “throwing weapons” to be scalpels.

After seeing the target, silence fell over the crowd; not a word was spoken. One could hear a pin drop.

“How did you do it? Do you practice throwing scalpels at targets every day?” Ma Han, unable to comprehend, asked Chu Feng.

“You might not believe me, but this is just basic training for me,” Chu Feng replied, sounding somewhat boastful, though he spoke the truth.

“Very well. I’ll have your throwing weapons custom-made to this style, but a bit shorter than scalpels,” Long Feihu decided after examining the target.

“No need for much modification. Just shorten them a little,” Chu Feng said, having no special requirements for his throwing weapons aside from length.

“I lost. I’ll treat you to a meal today. So, what do you want to eat?” Ma Han, not one to hold a grudge, remembered their bet after his brief shock.

“I should be the one treating everyone. I’d hate for you to give me a hard time later if I make you pay for my first meal here,” Chu Feng joked, easing the awkwardness.

Everyone laughed, the tension melting away.

“Chu Feng, I’m sorry. I was wrong earlier. I hope you don’t take it to heart,” Wang Chen stepped forward to apologize.

“Wang Chen, did you challenge Chu Feng and get your butt kicked?” Ma Han teased, seeing Wang Chen apologize and guessing what had happened earlier.