Holding the original shares, they fought all the way to the Korean War!

That afternoon.

At the east end of the threshing ground, dozens of makeshift target positions were temporarily erected using wooden poles and lime powder.

From a distance, they look like several silent figures.

A white line was drawn 100 meters away.

Zhao Wenlong stood on the side of the shooting range, holding a small red flag in his hand, his eyes sweeping over the soldiers who were fully equipped and ready to go.

More than three hundred people, divided into three square formations, stood at the west end of the threshing ground.

Each person carried a Type 38 rifle and had a pouch for bullets hanging from their waist, standing in neat rows.

No one spoke, no one whispered.

Zhou Tianyang stood at the back of the line, arms crossed, his expression calm.

But his gaze remained fixed on the soldiers.

To be precise, it was their hands that were being stared at.

Those hands holding guns.

The way they hold the gun has completely changed.

It's not the casual way of carrying, shouldering, or tucking it in anymore.

Instead, it's the standard gun-holding posture.

Zhou Tianyang's lips curled up slightly.

The inheritance card worked.

"Attention, First Battalion!"

Zhao Wenlong raised the small red flag and spoke in a loud voice.

"Shooting training is now beginning!"

"Each company, proceed to the firing line in order!"

"First come, first served!"

Tian Chengjun stepped out from the ranks.

Standing in front of the company, he turned to face 112 soldiers.

"Everyone, follow me!"

He strode towards the firing line with steady steps.

One hundred and twelve soldiers followed behind him.

They marched in unison, guns on their shoulders, and were full of spirit.

Walk to the 150-meter shooting line.

Tian Chengjun stopped and turned around.

"First row, step forward!"

The platoon leader led more than thirty soldiers forward and squatted down in front of the firing line.

"Load bullets!"

More than thirty soldiers acted simultaneously, pulling back the bolts, taking bullets from the ammunition boxes, and loading them into the magazines.

Their movements were perfectly synchronized, as if they had rehearsed it hundreds of times.

"shooting!"

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

More than thirty Type 38 rifles opened fire simultaneously.

After the first round of firing, the soldiers pulled the bolts, and the ejected cartridge cases tumbled in the air before falling to the ground.

"Second round, release!"

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

More than thirty bullets were fired.

Five rounds of firing, more than one hundred bullets, were all used up in less than two minutes.

The firing range fell silent.

Zhao Wenlong raised his binoculars and looked at the target 150 meters away.

His eyes widened suddenly.

The first target is slightly to the left of the center.

The second target, right in the center.

The third target is slightly to the right of the center.

The fourth, the fifth, the sixth...

He looked at them one by one, his heart beating faster and faster.

More than thirty targets, all hit.

One hundred meters, standing without support, five bullets.

This is a level that even veterans of the Eighth Route Army might not be able to reach.

Zhao Wenlong put down his binoculars, turned around, and looked at Zhou Tianyang.

Zhou Tianyang also put down his binoculars, his face expressionless, but there was a glimmer in his eyes.

"continue."

Zhou Tianyang said.

Zhao Wenlong nodded and turned to face the firing range.

"Second row, step forward!"

More than thirty soldiers stepped forward, squatted down, loaded their weapons, and aimed.

"shooting!"

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

More than thirty bullets were fired.

Zhao Wenlong raised the binoculars again.

It's still the same.

More than thirty targets, and all of them hit the target.

There was no miss.

Zhao Wenlong took a deep breath and slowly exhaled.

He has led troops for so many years, from the Red Army period to the present.

He knew exactly how many battles he had fought and how many soldiers he had led.

But he had never seen any company achieve such results in its first live-fire exercise.

This isn't a training problem; it's a people problem.

Some of these soldiers had never even touched a gun before today.

But their marksmanship is now better than that of veterans who have fought for years.

This is not normal.

Zhao Wenlong turned his head and glanced at Zhou Tianyang.

Zhou Tianyang remained calm, his arms crossed over his chest.

His gaze was fixed on the firing range.

Zhao Wenlong opened his mouth, as if to say something.

But in the end, he said nothing.

"Three rows, step forward!"

Three platoons in a row were all defeated.

One hundred and twelve people, one hundred and twelve targets, and all of them hit the target.

There was no miss, no jamming, and no accidental discharge.

Zhao Wenlong stood beside the shooting line, recording his scores in his notebook, his hands trembling slightly.

Tian Chengjun stood aside, staring wide-eyed at the brothers he had brought from Wild Wolf Valley.

These people have been with him for several years, and he knows their skill level very well.

His marksmanship isn't bad, but it's definitely not that good.

At 100 meters, with no support in his stance, he fired five bullets, all of which hit their mark.

This was something I never dared to imagine before.

"What's going on?"

Tian Chengjun muttered to himself, but showed no sign of it on his face.

He turned his head and glanced at Zhou Tianyang, who was standing at the back of the line.

"Second Company, step forward!"

Gu Tianhua led the soldiers of the Second Company to the firing line.

One hundred and twelve people, in three platoons, took turns fighting.

"shooting!"

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

Gunshots rang out one after another, and smoke filled the air.

Zhao Wenlong raised his binoculars and looked at them one by one.

It's still the same.

All hits.

There was no miss.

Zhao Wenlong wrote down the grades in his notebook, his hand no longer trembling.

It's not that I wasn't excited, it's that I got too excited and ended up calm.

He had led so many soldiers, and he had never seen such shooting results.

If the results of the first series were a coincidence, then the results of the second series were also a coincidence.

What about a triple?

"Three in a row, step forward!"

Liu Zhiyong led the soldiers of the Third Company to the firing line.

One hundred and twelve people, in three platoons.

"shooting!"

"Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!"

After the gunshots, Zhao Wenlong raised his binoculars.

All hits.

The results were even better than those of the first and second consecutive companies.

Zhao Wenlong put down his binoculars, turned around, and looked at Zhou Tianyang.

Zhou Tianyang nodded, and the expression on his face finally relaxed a little.

More than 300 soldiers hit the target at 100 meters.

This achievement is outstanding even within the entire Eighth Route Army.

But Zhou Tianyang knew the truth.

This is not due to training, but to the legacy card.

Then, Zhou Tianyang came over.

He took the notebook from Zhao Wenlong, glanced at it, and then nodded.

"The shooting results were better than I expected."

His voice wasn't loud, but it was very clear.

He returned the notebook to Zhao Wenlong, turned around, and faced the soldiers.

"You guys played well."

His voice rose several decibels, so that everyone in the threshing ground could hear him.

"Your next goal will no longer be 100 meters."

"It's 150 meters, 200 meters, or 300 meters."

"Is it possible?"

"able!"

More than 300 soldiers answered in unison.

Zhou Tianyang nodded, looking at the soldiers with immense satisfaction.

The effects of the inheritance card were even better than he had expected.

This is just the beginning.

The inheritance card only gave them the skills and muscle memory.

The real battlefield is not target practice, it's killing living people.

The target won't retaliate, but the Japanese soldiers will.

The target won't move, but the Japanese soldiers will.

The target doesn't dodge, but the Japanese do.

Therefore, training cannot stop.

Physical fitness, shooting, bayonet fighting, and tactics—none of them can be neglected.

"Wenlong".

Zhou Tianyang turned around and looked at Zhao Wenlong.

"arrive!"

"Today's shooting training is now over."

"Each company returns to their respective units for a summary and debriefing."

"To be continued tomorrow."

"yes!"

Zhao Wenlong stood at attention, saluted, and turned to face the team.

"Attention, all companies! Assemble!"

The three company commanders responded and moved immediately.

They led their respective companies and marched out of the threshing ground in formation.

The soldiers, carrying their rifles, marched in unison, their spirits high.

Zhou Tianyang stood on the threshing ground, watching the procession gradually disappear into the distance.

Then, he turned around and walked back to the regimental headquarters.

The next three days.

The training intensity increased day by day.

I get up at five o'clock every morning and run five kilometers of armed cross-country around the village.

Then comes physical training: push-ups, squats, and sit-ups, 100 reps per set, for five sets.

Then came shooting training.

Each person should fire at least ten live rounds per day.

From 100 meters to 150 meters, from 150 meters to 200 meters.

Then comes bayonet training, in pairs, bayoneting each other, for at least an hour every day.

Then came tactical training.

Individual tactics, squad tactics, platoon and company tactics, one level after another.

There are also political education classes in the evening.

It discusses the discipline, policies, and mission of the Eighth Route Army.

The soldiers were so exhausted that they fell asleep as soon as their heads hit the pillow.

But no one complained, and no one gave up.