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

Zhao Lei's voice paused for a moment on the walkie-talkie before he announced Bai Ye's score.

"White Night - Ten Rings"

The entire firing line was silent for about two seconds.

Then Xuanxiao was the first to jump out.

"impossible!"

His voice was so loud that it startled Qian Duoduo, who was drinking water nearby, causing her to choke and spray water from her nose. The spent cartridge case in Zhao Xiaohu's hand fell to the ground and rolled a long way with a clatter.

All eyes were on Xuan Xiao. He looked at Lu Xiao, then at the direction of the target trench.

"Is there a mistake? Ten shots, ten rings? How is that possible?"

Lu Xiao leaned against an ammunition box beside the firing line, arms crossed, a meaningful smile playing on his lips. Looking at Xuan Xiao's frantic expression, he calmly said, "Why are you in such a hurry? What does it matter to you how many rings Bai Ye scores?"

Xuan Xiao opened his mouth, then suddenly realized he had jumped out too fast. The gazes of the other recruits around him began to become subtle.

He coughed, lowering his voice to his usual nonchalant tone, but his speech was still twice as fast as normal: "I just think it's unfair. Bai Ye is the best shooter in the class, how could he only score ten points?"

Are you questioning the accuracy of Sergeant Zhao's target reporting?

"……I did not mean that."

"Then what do you mean?" Lu Xiao's smile grew brighter and brighter, clearly teasing him.

Xuan Xiao's temples began to throb. He knew Lu Xiao was teasing him, but he couldn't help it. The possibility that Bai Ye only scored ten rings was to him like someone saying the sun rose in the west—not impossible, but simply shouldn't exist.

He competed with Bai Ye in shooting and disassembly, losing both times. This time, he scored 100 points. If Bai Ye really only scored 10 points, then this would be his first victory over Bai Ye. He should be happy to have won against Bai Ye. But he couldn't be happy. This score was wrong. Bai Ye couldn't possibly have scored 10 points.

"I'll go take a look." Xuanxiao lifted his foot and was about to walk towards the target trench.

Lu Xiao reached out and stopped him.

"What's the rush? I'll have someone bring the target paper over."

He waved towards the target trench. Over there, Zhao Lei was looking down at something, his posture a little off. Lu Xiao had known Zhao Lei for a long time; Zhao Lei never paused when reporting targets. If he paused, it could only be because he saw something that required additional confirmation.

Running to the target? Zhao Lei had seen plenty of new recruits run to the target without hesitation.

Hitting someone else's target? That's nothing new.

What else could possibly make Zhao Lei pause?

A messenger ran over from the target trench with a target sheet in his hand, his expression a little strange as he handed it to Lu Xiao. Lu Xiao took the target sheet, flipped it over, and glanced at it. Then he froze.

There was only one bullet hole on the target. Right in the center, the exact center of the bullseye, the absolute center of the black dot. The edges of the bullet hole were slightly rough, with one ring overlapping another, layer upon layer, piled up in the same spot. The next nine bullets all passed through the hole made by the first shot, each one drilling through that round hole less than two centimeters wide, leaving a terrifyingly dense patch of bullet marks on the target trench wall behind.

Lu Xiao's Adam's apple bobbed. Could he really shoot through the same bullet hole?

He was the strongest sniper in the game. The strongest. Except when Bai Chen wasn't missing—Bai Chen was a monster, so he doesn't count.

His accuracy at 800 meters was enough to strike fear into the hearts of the entire mercenary world. But the precision of ten shots hitting the same bullet hole required not skill, but absolute control. Controlling the breath with each shot, controlling the force with which the trigger was pulled, controlling the trajectory of each bullet to remain perfectly consistent across all variables. This was far beyond his capabilities.

He turned the target paper around to face the recruit company.

There's only one hole on the target. A bullseye. Right in the center. The area around the bullet hole is clean, without any other bullet marks.

The entire training ground fell silent.

Zhao Xiaohu stood on tiptoe for a long time, his round face shifting from confusion to shock, then to a kind of almost reverent blankness. He nudged Qian Duoduo with his elbow, his mouth opening and closing several times before finally uttering a sound: "One hole. Ten bullets. One hole. Duoduo, did you see it? One hole."

Qian Duoduo was slightly jerked off by his poke, but her eyes never left the target paper.

"I saw it. Don't poke me. Let me see again."

"How did you do that?"

"Do you think the bullets are lined up?"

The other recruits reacted similarly. Some rubbed their eyes, some stood on tiptoe to push forward, and some opened their mouths but couldn't speak.

Xuanxiao stared at the target paper.

His expression shifted from initial anger to confusion, from confusion to disbelief, and from disbelief to a complex silence.

He looked down at the target he had just shot at—ten bullet holes landed neatly in the bullseye area, the dispersion not large, each shot landing precisely on the edge of the bullseye. One hundred rings. A perfect score. This was the result he had honed from years of shooting practice at the range, his proudest achievement.

Then he looked up at Bai Ye's target paper. One hole. Right in the center. The very core black dot of the target was pierced, while the surrounding paper remained intact. It was as if someone had drawn a dot on the target paper and told Bai Ye, "Shoot at this dot." And Bai Ye actually hit that dot with every single shot.

One hundred rings and ten rings. His target paper had a hundred-ring bullet hole scattered throughout. Bai Ye's target paper only had one hole. Ten bullets went through that hole. He remembered the first day of shooting training, when Zhao Lei asked Bai Ye if he had practiced before, and Bai Ye said he had practiced a little. A little. He believed him then. Now he wanted to go back and dig that sentence out of his memory to slap himself.

Bai Ye stepped out of the ranks, walked up to Lu Xiao, and took the target paper from him. His movements were natural, as if he were picking up an ordinary piece of paper from a table, flipping it over to check the location of the bullet holes. Then he turned around and faced the target paper towards Xuan Xiao.

The morning light pierced through the target paper, and a thin beam of light leaked out from the bullet hole that had been repeatedly pierced.

"You lost again."

His voice was flat, no different from when he said "Time to eat," "Time to train," or "Don't bother me." It was as bland as stating a weather forecast.

Xuanxiao lost three times. He lost once for shooting, once for disassembling the gun, and once for shooting. All three times, the wager was a week's worth of washing socks. In total, Xuanxiao now owes Baiye three weeks' worth of socks.

Xuan Xiao looked at the target paper with only one hole in Bai Ye's hand, then at Bai Ye's expressionless face. After a long silence, he finally squeezed out two words through gritted teeth.

"...I'll wash."