Prefers High Difficulty

When Parker left, he had not only left behind his mobile phone, but his pistol as well. Glaski had stepped up and asked for Parker's pistol straight away. Gao Fei felt too embarrassed to fight him for it, but borrowing it to mess around with was certainly an option. As a military enthusiast, Gao Fei was naturally as familiar with the renowned Glock as anyone could be. While Parker was still around, he had felt awkward taking the gun out, but now that Parker was gone, he needed to seize the moment and pop off a couple of test shots. "Glaski, lend me your pistol to play with for a bit." Gao Fei had clearly stated he only wanted to borrow it, but Glaski still looked a bit hesitant. After pondering for a moment, he finally said with resignation, "You want it? Then take it." "No, I just want to fire a few rounds. I've never shot one before and just want to try it out. I'm not taking it from you." Glaski instantly broke into a grin. "Just a few shots? No problem then, here." Glaski pulled the Glock from his pocket and reversed the grip, handing it butt-first to Gao Fei. Gao Fei took the pistol and felt out the grip. Not bad. The grip was indeed quite comfortable, and the natural point of aim felt good too. In truth, Gao Fei had no real way of telling whether the pointability was good or bad; he was just carrying preconceived notions from things he had read online. This was the first time Gao Fei had ever held a handgun. Having never handled another pistol before, how could he possibly tell which one pointed better? He hefted the gun, flourished it a bit, and extended his arm to aim. Then he noticed that the hand holding the pistol trembled slightly, making it surprisingly difficult to keep his sights aligned. No wonder people said handguns were harder to shoot than rifles; trying it for himself proved it was true. After waving it around a couple of times, Gao Fei asked casually, "You like pistols? Why didn't you get yourself one? You should be able to get your hands on one, right?" Glaski said in a low voice, "It's not that I'm crazy about handguns, but I really wanted to keep a foreign gun as a souvenir. A machine gunner like me rarely gets into close-quarters firefights. In all this time fighting, this is my first chance to capture a foreign pistol." "Mind if I take a couple of test shots?" "Go right ahead. Ammo is easy to find." Gao Fei racked his brain about how a Glock was chambered and taken off safe. He figured this gun was probably already chambered, and since Glocks used a trigger safety, that meant all he had to do was pull the trigger to fire. Gao Fei shouted, "I'm testing a gun! I'm about to fire!" One had to be considerate. This was a battlefield; an unexpected gunshot would make anyone unaware think something had gone wrong. Warning his comrades before shooting was better for everyone. Once his comrades called back, Gao Fei swung the muzzle around and fired a shot at a dirt clod about a dozen meters away. The gunshot cracked. Feeling his right hand snap upward uncontrollably, Gao Fei experienced the handgun's recoil firsthand and chuckled, "Nice gun." What was nice about it, Gao Fei couldn't really say. Whether the handling was truly good or bad, he couldn't tell either. But shooting one for the first time was bound to be exciting. Except he missed. Gao Fei had developed a mysterious confidence in his marksmanship by now, so missing a fist-sized dirt clod a dozen-odd meters away was a bit hard to swallow. He had never fired a rifle before either, yet his very first shot had struck a moving target over a hundred meters away. Also a first shot—so how could he fail to hit a stationary target at barely ten meters with a pistol? There had to be something wrong with the gun. Glaski looked at the target Gao Fei had aimed at and asked, "What were you shooting at?" Gao Fei said nothing. He took a second shot. The bullet struck the dirt beside the clod. How did that miss too? A slight panic crept into Gao Fei's heart, because this time he had genuinely taken careful aim. Glaski asked casually, "Shooting at that clod?" "Mm." Gao Fei thought about it and decided his hand must have twitched at the moment of firing. Handguns lacked a steady rest and relied entirely on the strength of the hands for support. As long as a person wasn't dead, their hands would always tremble a little. It wasn't noticeable normally, but the moment you pulled the trigger, it showed—and that tremor had a massive impact on handgun shooting. Gao Fei gripped the pistol with both hands. Never having shot one didn't mean he didn't know how; he had seen it enough times to understand the technique. Since one-handed shooting lacked precision, two hands would improve stability. The third shot rang out. The bullet landed even farther from the clod. Glaski looked slightly baffled and said in utter confusion, "Is there something wrong with this gun?" From the side, Sokholov chimed in, "Goes without saying. It's definitely the gun." They would sooner believe that a Glock—a firearm famous for its reliability—was defective than believe Gao Fei's marksmanship was at fault. Gao Fei felt a prickle of panic. He let go with his left hand, held the gun one-handed, rested it against the ground, and fired a fourth shot. With a rest, his hand didn't shake. This shot finally hit. The bullet struck the dirt clod, shattering it to powder. All three fell silent, unsure what to say. A marksman capable of shooting down a flying drone couldn't hit a dirt clod ten meters away? How was that possible? It made zero sense. "Bad ammo maybe?" Glaski asked, deeply puzzled. Sokholov frowned and said, "Maybe Rex just needs to get used to the gun. Right, Rex?" "Yeah, right. I've never fired this gun before. In fact, I've barely ever had a chance to use pistols—I've only fired ten rounds through one in my whole life." Sokholov let out a long breath of relief and smiled. "So that's it! Keep shooting. Once you get a little familiar with it, you'll be fine." Gao Fei figured so too, and fired a fifth shot. This time, Gao Fei began to genuinely panic, because he had aimed at a dirt clod fifteen meters away. It was a bit farther out—fifteen meters was no short distance for a handgun—but the problem was, Gao Fei had aimed at a large lump of dirt, and he had fired from a rested position! Missing a target that big? Where had things gone wrong? A genuine sense of dread crept into Gao Fei's heart. Could it be that he was only suited for rifles and simply couldn't shoot handguns? Just then, someone called from nearby, "Squad leader, we found some good stuff! There's a SCAR rifle here, and a pistol too." Sokholov was even more excited than Gao Fei. He shouted, "Bring them over! Bring that pistol here quickly, and bring the rifle too!" A SCAR was a fine weapon, probably the most expensive assault rifle in the world right now. Gao Fei felt a flutter of excitement. Truth be told, compared to an outdated, run-of-the-mill commodity like the AK-74, the SCAR was obviously far more popular among military enthusiasts—or at least among the vast majority of them. The kind of armchair appreciation that compared looks and spec sheets. Even though he had never seen or handled one in person, Gao Fei certainly favored the SCAR. It was a SCAR-L chambered in 5.56mm, accompanied by a pistol that Gao Fei, to his surprise, didn't recognize. There was practically no mainstream small arm Gao Fei didn't know. For a veteran military enthusiast, looking at a mainstream handgun and failing to identify its model was humiliating. So this pistol had to be some rare, niche piece. Definitely. It had to be! Gao Fei asked in astonishment, "What pistol is this?" "Fort-14. A pistol developed in Ukraine. It's relatively common over there, though not extremely common." Sokholov took the pistol and immediately handed it to Gao Fei. "Try it? I think that Glock has something wrong with it." Gao Fei returned the Glock to Glaski and accepted the Fort-14. The Fort-14 felt much heavier, and its pointability was indeed not as good as the Glock's, though he couldn't put his finger on exactly what was worse about it. Gao Fei dropped the magazine of the Fort-14 and inspected it. The rounds were also 9mm Parabellum; he could tell at a glance. Sokholov glanced at it as well, then said, "This is the 9mm Parabellum version. The Fort-14 also has a version chambered in 9mm Makarov. I've seen both." Gao Fei let out a breath, leveled the gun at the dirt clod he had aimed for and missed earlier, and pulled the trigger. He missed again! He was finished. Handguns were truly his downfall. Despair began welling up inside Gao Fei, but he couldn't let it show on his face. He simply remarked calmly, "This gun isn't as good as the Glock." Neither Sokholov nor Glaski made a sound. After a moment's hesitation, Glaski suddenly said, "How about trying this one again?" This felt like discovering you weren't cut out for academics. No, more accurately, it was like discovering you could score full marks in literature, but had absolutely no aptitude for math. Getting a perfect score in literature was exceedingly difficult, yet Gao Fei could pull it off. Scoring full marks in math was far less difficult than in literature—all it took was knowing the steps—yet not only could Gao Fei not score full marks, he couldn't even pass. With a heavy heart, Gao Fei put down the Fort-14, picked up the Glock 17 again, rested his hand on the ground once more, carefully took aim, and fired at the mound of dirt. Finally, a hit. Yet hitting a target that large at this distance was something anyone with hands could manage. It wasn't just low difficulty; there was zero difficulty whatsoever. For a moment, no one knew what to say. Sokholov suddenly said, "Don't keep shooting with the pistol. We don't want a drone spotting us. We still have electronic jamming, but... forget the pistols. Come mess around with this rifle instead." Sokholov was starting to make excuses for Gao Fei. Gao Fei sighed and decided to take the graceful way out. There was no need to keep exposing his weakness. Still, he would definitely have to practice with handguns—it was an absolute must. Having made up his mind in secret, Gao Fei was about to hand the pistol back to Glaski when he saw Glaski sullenly grab a clod of dirt from the edge of the trench and casually toss it away. It was purely an act of venting. Gao Fei's poor pistol shooting seemed to distress Glaski even more than it did Gao Fei himself. Yet seeing that dark shape flying through the air, Gao Fei snapped his arm up and fired on pure instinct. Crack! The dirt clod shattered to dust midair. The shot stunned Gao Fei, and it stunned Glaski too. After taking a second to process what had just happened, Sokholov suddenly roared, "Great shot!" Staring at his hand in disbelief, Gao Fei thought for a second and blurted, "Throw another one. Throw another!" Glaski searched around, picked up another fist-sized dirt clod, and casually tossed it into the sky. Gao Fei looked up, whipped his pistol around, and with a single shot pulverized the falling clod. After a moment, Sokholov gasped in wonder, "Turns out you only hit high-difficulty targets!"