I sparked a mysterious resurgence in Marvel.

Chapter 71 Tom's Shooting Club

(Thanks to the reader for pointing out a bug (the phone number issue). Chapters 69 and 70 have been revised. Aside from removing the bug, the total word count has increased by about 500 words. Readers who read it yesterday are advised to refresh and reread it to avoid any inconsistencies in the plot. Personally, I feel that it should be better to read after the revision.)

Also, if anyone finds any bugs in the future, please point them out so I can fix them promptly.

Mumu sincerely thanks you!

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The exclamation that reached his ears was like the most blatant mockery, filling Fleischer's face with shame and indignation, and instantly igniting his anger.

"court death!"

Fleischer quickly got up from the ground, clenched his fist, and punched Erin in the face.

But the next second, his furious eyes met an extremely cold gaze, which instantly cooled his anger as if a bucket of cold water had been poured over it.

The intense fear that followed, as if he were being stared at by a prehistoric Tyrannosaurus Rex, made him feel suffocated and dizzy.

"Bang!"

The moment Fleischer was stunned by the weakened version of [Desperate Gaze], Erin kicked him without hesitation, sending Fleischer flying like a kite with a broken string against the railing outside the corridor, before he was knocked unconscious.

When Fleischer was kicked away, his basketball friends were about to rush over to help.

Erin, who had just kicked Fleischer away, suddenly turned around, his eyes, still carrying a trace of the oppressive "Despair Gaze," coldly scanning his surroundings.

"Would you like to lie down too?"

Every student who met Erin's eyes felt an indescribable sense of horror rise within them, and they all lowered their heads in fear, not daring to meet Erin's gaze at all.

That feeling.

It was as if the person standing in front of them was not a human, but a demon that had crawled out of hell.

It's so bad it's hard to look at.

Seeing the crowd around him fall silent instantly, Erin's lips curled into a slight smile.

For dealing with ordinary people, the [Dejected Gaze] is surprisingly effective!

"hehe!"

Seeing that no one dared to stop her anymore, Erin pulled the chubby boy, whose legs were a little weak, away from the classroom.

Considering how loyal the chubby boy had been earlier, Erin decided to treat him to lunch as a reward.

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but.

Soon, Erin regretted his hasty decision.

"Hey, Erin, did you see that? After you kicked Fleischer away, none of those bastards on the basketball team dared to utter a sound after you glared at them."

"Pah, they're useless. They're all that big for nothing, just a bunch of show-offs."

"But Erin, when did you become so amazing? I had no idea!"

"You know what? You looked so cool and impressive just now. I wish I could be that cool."

"·····"

Looking at the big dog sitting opposite me, its face full of excitement and its mouth never stopping.

Erin's head was buzzing; he felt that this fat man's rambling was even more terrifying than the whispers of an evil god.

If we hadn't just gone through a "trial and tribulation" together, Erin would have loved to smother the big dog's mouth with duct tape.

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After barely managing to eat a few bites, and unable to bear the dog's overly excited rambling any longer, Erin took the opportunity to go to the restroom, secretly paid the bill, and then ran away.

It wasn't until the afternoon class bell rang that I returned to the classroom, under the resentful gaze of the big dog.

Erin arrived at the classroom.

The math teacher had already written the problem on the blackboard and was ready to start the lesson.

Because of the authority of the math teacher, the chubby boy and the big dog didn't dare to defy the rules again, which did give Erin some peace and quiet.

Aside from the fact that Erin had seemingly transformed into a talkative chubby boy and returned to the classroom, he keenly noticed a hint of awe in the eyes of his classmates as they looked at him.

I guess it's because of what happened at noon.

However, Erin didn't take it to heart.

The time for a few classes passed quickly.

When the school bell rang, Erin refused the chubby boy's offer to ride the school bus home together. She then took out a black card from her pocket, took a taxi to the address on it, and arrived at a building with a simple style that looked a bit old.

"Is this the Tom Shooting Club?"

Erin glanced at the Tom Shooting Club sign hanging in front of him, then turned to look at the police station sign that was still faintly visible on the street corner, and shrugged.

No wonder George knew so much about this shooting club; it turns out it wasn't far from their 13th inning.

However, the fact that this shooting club could operate right under the nose of the police station shows that it must have some tricks up its sleeve.

After entering the shooting club.

Erin handed the black card for Tom's Club that George had given him to the waiter in charge of reception.

After a brief verification and simple registration of Erin's information, he was invited into the club.

"Mr. Erin, this is your first time at our club. Would you like us to introduce you to a shooting instructor to help you better master shooting techniques?"

Upon hearing this, Erin asked, "When I arrived, Chief George Stacy of the 13th Precinct recommended old Jerry to me. Is he available now?"

George's name is still quite useful.

Upon hearing that Police Chief George Stacy had recommended Old Jerry to Erin, the waiter immediately said that Coach Jerry was available.

After asking another waiter to relay the message to old Jerry, Erin was led underground by that waiter to a small, enclosed shooting range.

Not long after Erin entered the firing range.

A man dressed like a cowboy from the West, walking with a limp, came up to Erin.

Seeing the nameplate hanging on his body, Erin immediately realized that this guy was the sharpshooter he was looking for.

After entering.

Old Jerry glanced at Erin's hands and said directly, "A newbie?"

"Yes."

"Understood. My fees are a bit higher than the average coach; it's $300 an hour. If that's acceptable, we can start practicing right away."

Although he has retired from the military, Old Jerry still adheres to the military tradition of being direct and straightforward.

"Price is fine, we can get started right away."

After seeing that Erin's price was meaningless.

After Old Jerry called over a waiter and had Erin sign a simple contract, he began teaching Erin the most basic knowledge about firearms.

And this is precisely what Erin lacks most.

It took more than ten minutes.

After explaining the specifications of the five most common handguns to Erin, along with their respective advantages and disadvantages, Old Jerry selected the most suitable handgun for Erin based on Erin's hand shape and finger length, and handed it to Erin.

(End of this chapter)