American forensics, but the gourmet system

Russell rode his old horse and slowly made his way up to the observation deck.

Aina had dismounted and was standing on the hillside, facing the vast valley below.

The deep blue Hudson River flows quietly, its surface wide and open. The riverbanks are light brown, and several unidentified birds perch on the bare rocks.

In the distance, the gently rolling hills are clearly outlined, with a thin layer of snow still hidden in the shaded areas.

Russell also dismounted, trembling. He stood beside Aina, the two of them side by side, not saying a word, simply admiring the rare and beautiful scenery.

"You definitely can't see a view like this in downtown New York..." Russell said with deep emotion. "People can't stay in places with ceilings all the time. It's really nice to come out for a stroll once in a while."

Russell's last trip was during the summer after he graduated from university; since then, his life has been filled with studies and work.

"It also depends on who you're out with..." Aina stretched lazily. "If you're out with the wrong people, you won't have a good time either."

"So, are you going to have a good time this time?"

Russell asked instinctively.

Even though Russell was wearing sunglasses, he could see that Aina's cheeks were slightly flushed.

She snorted, turned her face away, and didn't answer Russell's somewhat blunt question.

Two horses were grazing enthusiastically on the half-green, half-yellow wild grass on the ground. The guide, quite sensibly, hid below the hillside. The sun was warm, the river was calm, but some people's hearts were in turmoil.

Russell and Aina stood on the mountaintop for a while, enjoying the breeze and taking a few selfies. Seeing that it was almost lunchtime, they mounted their horses again and descended from the viewing platform.

"Shall we go back to the farm, you two?"

The guide, who had been squatting at the bottom of the hillside playing with grass sticks for a long time, stood up and asked.

"Let's go back," Russell nodded. "It's time for lunch."

Perhaps because he knew Russell's identity as a forensic pathologist, the director became more talkative.

On the way back, Russell spent half the time listening to the guide tell a heartwarming story about finding half a corpse in an oak forest.

However, the director's speech was rather disorganized, and Russell was only spared from interrupting him because of his gentlemanly manners.

Back at the farm, Russell and Aina left their horses with the guide and dragged their large suitcases to the hotel to check in.

This place is nominally a farm, but it's actually a small resort.

In terms of regional division, it belongs to the Highlands town of Ulster County.

The resort has its own hotel and ranch, which is not much different from Russell's guess, and it does have facilities such as self-service barbecue.

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A large "GG" sign stands at the restaurant entrance, featuring a cartoon bull image and a line of colorful text next to it:

Delicious barbecue, local ranch, grass-fed beef cattle.

However, local grass-fed beef barbecue is only available for dinner; lunch is only served at the hotel's buffet.

As for the quality of the buffet...

Russell glanced at the pre-made, chilled dessert, then at the burnt, dry steak, and finally forked a large bite of vegetable salad into his mouth, feeling like he had become a grass-fed meat man.

"I suspect they deliberately let us go hungry so that when we eat barbecue at night, it will taste incredibly delicious because we're so hungry..."

Russell whispered his guess to Aina.

"Actually, their beef and chicken are of good quality, all from local ranches..." Aina said, looking at the steak on her plate, "It's just the chef's skill level..."

Russell could certainly understand; good chefs all went to the city to earn high salaries.

Even if we assume that the chefs here are paid a high salary, the money they earn can only be spent in the small town, which is nothing compared to the glitz and glamour of the Big Apple.

On the other hand, even if a chef is terrible, they can still grill beef ribs and brisket in a smoke oven without any problem.

Russell was still looking forward to the beef barbecue that evening.

……

After devouring the lush green vegetable salad like a cow, the afternoon brought the highlight of the trip.

Russell drove for 20 minutes to reach the town center of Highland.

Next to the town, there is an outdoor shooting range.

Generally speaking, indoor shooting ranges in New York typically offer targets ranging from 7 to 25 yards, and a range with targets at 50 yards is considered a large range.

This outdoor shooting range offers targets for extremely long-range shooting, reaching up to 1000 yards. And, reportedly, they even provide Barrett sniper rifles…

Such a shooting range, of course, does not accept individual visitors; it has a more upscale name: a private members-only shooting club. Entering this place and getting your hands on a Barrett rifle requires a very high level of skill.

The threshold did not stop Aina. She led Russell into the shooting range smoothly and even saw the all-black, ultra-long-range sniper weapon.

"A Barrett M82A1," the range manager who brought Russell and Aina in said proudly. "There are only a handful of shooting clubs in all of New York State that have one... and New York State is already pushing for legislation to ban the sale of this kind of large-caliber sniper rifle, so there will only be fewer and fewer of them in the future."

Russell had little interest in Barrett sniper rifles; in New York, a fully loaded Glock 17 pistol was sufficient to protect against any potential dangers.

Moreover, Russell's wok-flipping and pan-holding techniques couldn't be applied to a 14.8-kilogram behemoth...

But Aina was very interested in it.

……

boom!

The Barrett sniper rifle spewed fire from its muzzle, producing a deafening roar.

Through binoculars, about 800 meters away, the hood of a wrecked Ford Focus was torn open with a gruesome gash by the enormous impact.

"cool!"

Aina stood up excitedly and waved her fist.

Russell put down his binoculars and gave Aina a high five.

They've been at the shooting range for three hours now. During that time, Russell and Aina have played with all sorts of firearms: large-caliber rifles, pistols, carbines, and even shot a few skeet shots with a shotgun.

Russell was the most accurate shooter with a pistol, hitting the bullseye every time at targets at 25 and 50 yards. The range manager, standing nearby, was dumbfounded and insisted on asking Russell if he had retired from the special forces.

However, Russell's performance with large-caliber rifles was rather average. He did quite well at 100-yard targets and was alright at 200-yard targets. But at 300-yard targets, he could barely hit the target.

This was entirely because Russell had little prior experience with firearms, and his accuracy with a pistol relied entirely on talent.

Hitting targets at distances of 200 yards or more requires a certain level of ballistic knowledge and aiming skills.

Aina, on the other hand, had far more shooting experience than Russell. She used each gun with great skill and even achieved an amazing score of 99 out of 10 shots on a 300-yard target with a high-precision rifle.

After smashing the hood of a wrecked car with a Barrett, Aina finally ended her day at the shooting range with satisfaction.

As the range manager respectfully saw them out, Russell noticed that Aina hadn't paid...

He had originally planned to split the shooting range fees with Aina.

But she didn't pay...

There's an old American saying: the things you don't have to pay for are the most expensive.

As Russell drove the Cybertruck out of the parking lot, he began to ponder:

If Aina doesn't want her own money, then does she want...?

Do I really need to repay this debt with my body?

Russell chuckled, leaving Aina, who was in the passenger seat, somewhat bewildered.