Item Affinity Can Be Used Like This

9 PM, the Third Designated Shooting Range of the Donghai City Public Security Bureau.

"Bang--!"

The final bullet roared out of the barrel, its scorching casing tracing a beautiful parabola through the air before landing at his feet with a crisp "clink."

Qin Feng lowered the M-7 "Spirit Breaker" pistol in his hand, a faint wisp of gunpowder smoke still rising from the muzzle.

He didn't look at the target paper. Instead, he closed his eyes, feeling the aftershocks in his arm muscles and the peculiar sensation of becoming one with the cold steel in his hand.

[Item Affinity].

This passive skill had quietly activated the moment he held the gun.

The gun's center of gravity, the angle of recoil, the trigger's travel... these cold data points seemed to transform into a warm current, absorbed, analyzed, and optimized by his body's instincts.

After advancing to the "Form Observation Realm," his meticulous control over every muscle had pushed this optimization to the extreme.

The electronic target scorer faithfully transmitted the results to the screen: 9.8 rings.

"Monster..." a hoarse voice sounded from beside him.

Qin Feng opened his eyes and saw an old instructor, his temples grayed and a Level 3 Police Superintendent insignia on his shoulder, staring intently at the screen. He then looked at Qin Feng as if he were an alien.

"Instructor Chen, it was just good luck," Qin Feng said, removing his protective eyewear and noise-canceling headphones, rubbing his slightly swollen ears.

"Good luck?" Instructor Chen rushed over, nearly spitting on him. "I've been here for over twenty years, and I've never seen 'luck' like yours! Kid, be honest, were you a sharpshooter from some military district before, just messing around here?"

"Reporting, Instructor, my background is clean. I'm a currently enrolled history student at Donghai University," Qin Feng replied, standing at attention with a serious expression.

Instructor Chen's expression contorted further, as if he had swallowed an entire lemon.

He pointed at the target paper Qin Feng had shot, where the bullet holes were densely clustered around the bullseye, with barely any below 9 rings. "Three hours! Three hours ago, you held a gun like a sissy! And now you tell me you're a student?"

He simply couldn't comprehend it.

For the first half hour, this kid's bullets were scattered all over the target.

But later, he seemed to have established some mysterious link with the gun. Every adjustment after a shot was terrifyingly precise.

That terrifying learning ability and physical control were unbelievable.

"You kid..." Instructor Chen pointed at Qin Feng, speechless for a long time. Finally, he could only squeeze out from between his teeth, "...remember to sweep up all the shell casings!"

With that, he turned and walked away, muttering "weird," "unscientific," "kids these days..." under his breath. His retreating figure seemed somewhat desolate, as if his twenty years of professional understanding had been completely overturned.

Qin Feng watched him leave, a slight curve forming on his lips.

Fixed targets were no problem, but moving targets required more prediction and dynamic vision. Muscle memory alone wasn't enough.

"Looks like I'll have to rely on suppressing fire against more agile opponents."

As he collected the shell casings scattered on the ground, he glanced down at the magazines he had brought, feeling a pang of pain.

Ten Psionic Bullets, 5 Contribution Points each. Firing a full magazine cost 50 Contribution Points.

Extravagant, too extravagant.

"Good steel must be used on the blade."

Qin Feng carefully put the pistol and the gold-embossed firearm permit back into the gun bag.

Regular bullets were for dealing with minor threats. Psionic Bullets were reserved as the final surprise for the "clients."

He walked out of the shooting range, the cool night breeze dispelling the smell of gunpowder from his nostrils.

Qin Feng hailed a taxi.

"Driver, Donghai University Town."

The car merged into the river of dazzling lights.

Qin Feng leaned back in the seat and opened the "Yellow Springs" app again, tapping on the D-Class commission.

[Commission Number: D-087]

[Incident: Ghost Call]

He read through the details, his fingertips gliding slowly across the screen.

[Victim 1: Li Ming, third-year Civil Engineering student, died from falling. Foretold message: 'You will fall from a great height and be shattered into pieces.']

[Victim 2: Wang Ya, second-year Foreign Languages student, drowned in the dormitory bathtub. Foretold message: 'Water will flood your mouth and nose, and you will suffocate to death.']

[Victim 3: Sun Peng, fourth-year Computer Science student, died from electrocution at an internet cafe. Foretold message: 'The current will burn your nerves, bringing release.']

Qin Feng's eyes sharpened.

This wasn't direct ghost murder, but a more sophisticated method.

It didn't act directly, but used an unknown medium to forcibly impose the concept of "death" onto the victims, with real-life "coincidences" then completing the fatal link.

A typical rule-based anomalous event.

To break the deadlock, one had to find and destroy the "source" that established the rules before the rules took effect.

"University Town, we're here." The driver's voice interrupted Qin Feng's thoughts.

He paid and got out of the car. The university town was still lively at night, the smoke from barbecue stalls mingling with the laughter of young men and women, full of the vibrancy of life.

But in Qin Feng's vision, enhanced by the "Form Observation Realm," the world presented a different scene.

In the air, wisps of gray-black resentment, finer than a strand of hair and carrying an ominous aura, steadfastly drifted in the same direction.

He followed the trajectory of the resentment flow, his gaze finally locking onto a student dormitory building not far away.

The building looked as if it had been splashed with a thin layer of ink, standing out starkly from the other brightly lit dormitories.

Qin Feng, with a sports bag containing a handgun slung over his shoulder, walked towards the building at an unhurried pace.

A cordon had already been set up downstairs, with several police cars flashing their red and blue lights, dispelling the surrounding darkness and attracting quite a few curious students.

Qin Feng naturally blended into the crowd, perking up his ears to catch the surrounding discussions.

"It's this building. Senior Sun Peng from the Computer Science department is dead."

"It's so tragic. My classmate said he had an accident at an internet cafe off-campus, the computer host leaked electricity... but why did the police seal off the dorm?"

"Don't you know? The police suspect he had psychological problems, possibly suicide, and they're here to search his belongings and diary! Plus, he received that ghost call before he died!"

A girl lowered her voice, her tone full of terror, "The call said he would be electrocuted, and then... it actually came true! Now everyone in our dorm is panicking, we don't dare answer strange calls alone at night anymore."

So that's how it is.

Qin Feng understood. The police's actions actually provided him with convenience.

He circled around to the back of the dormitory building, using the cover of night, and found a half-open bathroom window.

After observing that no one was around, he tapped his toes, and his body, as agile as a civet cat, lightly climbed onto the windowsill and slipped inside without a sound.

As soon as he entered the hallway, the oppressive feeling instantly intensified several times. The air seemed to become thick and viscous, and every breath carried a cold, dampness that burrowed straight into his bones.