Rebirth of a Mercenary: The Ace Mercenary Forced to Be the Beloved of the Group

Two weeks of training flew by amidst slogans and sweat.

The new recruits endured the hardships of holding their rifles, disassembling and assembling them, and enduring long marches. The blisters on their feet scabbed over and broke repeatedly, until finally this day arrived.

Monday morning, the atmosphere on the training field was different from any other day. The iron gate of the shooting range was open, and a row of half-body targets stood above the target trench a hundred meters away, the white target paper trembling slightly in the morning breeze.

The entire recruit company stood in formation behind the firing line, craning their necks to peer into the firing range.

Each squad leader stood in front of the firing line. Lu Xiao held a roster in his hand, his face unusually devoid of his usual smile. Li Mo stood beside him, hands behind his back, his gaze sweeping over the faces of the new recruits in his squad one by one.

"Live-fire training is not child's play," Lu Xiao said, his voice a shade deeper than usual. "Bullets don't have eyes, and you must never point your gun at people, regardless of whether it's loaded or not. You all heard this on your first day of enlistment, and I'll repeat it again today—never point your gun at people, regardless of whether it's loaded or not."

His gaze lingered on the recruits' faces for a moment, making sure everyone was listening, before he continued.

"No one may enter the firing line except the shooter and the designated safety officer. Loading, aiming, and firing must all be done according to the commands. Without the command, your finger must not approach the trigger guard. After firing the last shot, lock the bolt, turn the muzzle forward, and wait for the safety officer to finish checking before lowering the weapon. Do you understand?"

"Understood!" The recruits' reply echoed across the firing range.

Lu Xiao nodded, took a half step back, and let Zhao Lei step forward to demonstrate.

Zhao Lei walked to the firing position, picked up a rifle that had already been inspected, lay down, loaded a round, took aim, and fired—the whole process was clean and efficient. After firing five rounds and locking the bolt, he stood up and put the rifle back on the rack; the whole process took less than two minutes.

"First group, get ready."

The new recruits entered their firing positions in order of their student ID numbers. The first batch consisted of recruits from other platoons, while those from Platoon One were still waiting behind.

Bai Ye stood in the line, watching the people in front of him lie down one by one, as gunshots rang out one after another on the shooting range.

One by one, the target papers were replaced, and the results were reported one after another. Most of the new recruits did not perform well. Those who could score 80 points out of 10 shots were extremely rare. Many of the bullet holes on their target papers were scattered like a constellation map, with no discernible pattern.

One recruit only scored forty points out of ten. Lu Xiao glanced at the target paper, paused for three seconds, and said, "Your shots were quite spread out; at least you didn't hit the same wrong spot twice." The recruit didn't know whether to be happy or not.

Then there's Xuanxiao.

He walked with a steady gait. He went to the firing position, picked up his gun, lay down, loaded the gun, took aim, and completed the entire preparation process in one go.

Gunshots rang out.

Xuanxiao's firing rhythm is very steady, with the interval between each two shots controlled at about three seconds, neither too fast nor too slow, just enough for the crosshair to return to the bullseye in the short time it takes to breathe.

First shot, second shot, third shot.

The new recruits behind them craned their necks to watch; some counted the gunshots in their minds, while others clenched their fists.

After firing the tenth shot, he stood up, put the gun back on the rack, and turned to walk back. He paused as he passed Bai Ye.

"Shall we have a comparison?"

Bai Ye glanced at him.

"You've lost to me twice now."

Xuan Xiao's lips twitched, but he quickly regained his confident expression.

"This time is different. This time it's a shooting competition, and I've been spending a lot of time at shooting ranges since I was a kid."

Bai Ye didn't reply.

"You dare not?" Xuan Xiao lowered his voice slightly, carrying a provocative tone that only the two of them could hear.

Bai Ye glanced at him for two seconds.

"What are we betting on?"

"The old rule—the loser has to wash socks for a week."

"You haven't finished washing your socks from last time."

"That was two weeks ago! I washed it a long time ago!"

Bai Ye's lips moved slightly, and the curve made Xuan Xiao unsure whether he smiled.

"OK."

It's Bai Ye's turn to take the stage.

He walked to the firing position and picked up the gun. The moment the butt of the rifle pressed against his shoulder, the familiar smell of gunpowder became even stronger.

He lay down, his left hand supporting the handguard, his right hand gripping the handle, and his cheek pressed against the cheek rest. The target paper a hundred meters away swayed slightly in the front sight, and he could feel his heartbeat, neither fast nor slow, keeping the same frequency as the swaying of the front sight.

In his past life, he had fired countless bullets. A 100-meter target was as easy for him as drinking water. But this Type 95 rifle was slightly different from the one he used in his past life. There were slight differences in the zeroing value of the sights, the trigger travel and force, and the bullet trajectory.

He had already mastered most of the characteristics of the gun through shooting and disassembly training, but this was his first time shooting with live ammunition.

The first bullet is chambered. The sights stabilize on the bullseye, settling precisely in the center of the black dot within a breath's pause. The index finger rests on the trigger, applying even pressure, pulling firmly without hesitation.

A shot rang out.

The recoil slammed into his shoulder, but his body remained motionless. The butt of the rifle was firmly embedded in his shoulder socket, and his eyes never left the sights. The target paper trembled slightly in the wind a hundred meters away, but he knew where the shot had landed. The black dot was perfectly in the center, without any deviation.

Second shot. Third shot. Fourth shot.

His firing rhythm was faster than Xuanxiao's, with intervals of only about 1.5 seconds. Because he could re-aim faster than others, he had already locked onto the bullseye in the next breath while others needed to adjust their sights. Gunshots exploded continuously on the firing range, the rhythm as even as a metronome, making the recruits behind him forget to count how many shots he had fired. Some held their breath, some clenched their fists.

After firing the tenth shot, he stood up, locked the bolt, and put the gun back on the rack. His face remained expressionless as he turned and walked back to the ranks.

Xuan Xiao stood in the queue, staring at his face. He tried to find some information from that face, even the slightest hint of nervousness or lack of confidence. But he found nothing. Bai Ye's face was like a closed book to him, offering absolutely no clues.

"Report the target!"

All eyes turned towards the target trench. There was silence for a few seconds on the other side, then Zhao Lei's voice came through the walkie-talkie.

"Xuanxiao - Ten shots, one hundred rings."

A collective gasp erupted from the queue.

One hundred rings. Ten shots, all hitting the bullseye.

This achievement is outstanding in the history of the recruit company. Zhao Xiaohu turned to look at Xuan Xiao with a changed gaze, as if he were looking at an alien creature. Qian Duoduo muttered, "Brother Xiao, are you even human?"

Xuan Xiao's expression relaxed, and an uncontrollable smile appeared on his lips. He turned his head to look at Bai Ye, waiting for the next number.

"white night--"