Your Pistol Skills Are Amazing

BOOM!!!

Beside Russell's dashing retreating figure, the bulletproof car burned fiercely from the massive explosion. The major shareholder's luxury car was reliably built; even a grenade blast had failed to deform it. Given the cramped space inside the vehicle and the grenade's power, the major shareholder probably never got to experience the thrill of being engulfed in flames. He had been blown to death instantly.

Russell did not look back at the explosion. He was considering bringing a pack of cigarettes next time to look cool, but before he could even keep up the act for three seconds, he had only taken a few steps before diving face-first onto the ground. A bullet streaked through where he had just been standing. Listening for the source of the gunshot, he rolled with the momentum and slipped behind a car for cover.

The host has come into contact with plot character Hertz, triggering the Lottery Draw. Draw now?

Although he had no idea who Hertz was, anyone the system classified as a "plot character" was definitely no disposable nobody.

Hertz was indeed no nobody. He was the Short Leader who had been relentlessly pursuing Smith. He had the face of a minor character and a slightly pudgy build, but beneath that comical appearance lay a cruel and wicked heart.

Hertz had once been an FBI forensic expert consultant. He specialized in handling corpses and analyzing criminals' mental states from minute clues. Because of his reputation, many powerful figures hired him as a private assistant to handle certain shady matters.

Like Russell, Hertz had been born with a certain talent. After a brief encounter, he could analyze someone's psychology through their words and body language, deducing what they were thinking and what they would do next.

Relying on that inborn talent, he moved between various factions and prospered.

"Wow, wow, wow. I never expected there to be a gunman as skilled as you besides Smith. Tell me, where are the woman and the baby?" Hertz hid in the grass. Having witnessed Russell's bizarre marksmanship, he had no intention of showing himself and getting killed.

"Your boss is already dead. Is there any point in keeping this up?"

As Russell spoke, he opened the system interface and began his favorite Lottery Draw, receiving an Item Card.

Item Card: Hertz's Fingerprint Pistol (It can only fire after verifying Hertz's fingerprints. It prevents accidental discharge, reduces crime, cannot be used even if picked up by enemies, and is a loyal pistol with principles.)

Russell: "..."

What kind of garbage was that? What a waste of my reaction!

While Russell was playing the lottery over here, Hertz began putting verbal pressure on him from the other side. "Heh, you don't actually think I only work for Harmosen, do you?"

"Plenty of people hire me. One dead Harmosen won't affect anything. Come to think of it, I should thank you. Since Smith killed the senator, I received another major contract. Once I eliminate you, I can say goodbye to my past."

Hertz spoke smugly, but Russell could hear how unwilling he was. Imagining him gritting his teeth, Russell could not resist mocking him. "After all that, you're just a hired hand. What a pathetic guy!"

"Enough nonsense. Tell me—"

Hertz hid behind a tree and snorted disdainfully at Russell's taunt. To his surprise, a pistol pressed against his temple. Smith had appeared from nowhere.

"Damn it!"

Hertz stared speechlessly at the Military Dog crouching at Smith's feet. Unless he was mistaken, it was the very dog he had brought over. The Military Dog sat obediently beside Smith, wagging its tail happily. Noticing Hertz's furious glare, it bared its teeth right back at him.

"I like dogs. They're man's best friends, aren't they?"

"Bullshit! Fuck your best friends!"

Bang!

Smith pulled the trigger and blew Hertz's head apart. Russell stepped out from behind the car and could not help rolling his eyes at the big Military Dog.

"Smith, you were two minutes late!"

Smith holstered his pistol. "No. I came at exactly the right time."

Two days later, in a small town in North Carolina, Smith decided to leave the life behind. He and Quintana adopted new identities, settled down there as farmers, and planned to peacefully live out the rest of their lives.

They planned to get married after some time, and the baby naturally became their first child.

It was a perfect ending. Everything seemed wonderful. Smith and Quintana were extremely satisfied with their new home, but Russell was not, because he had paid for the land.

The bank card held five hundred thousand dollars. It was anonymous, could not be reported lost, and did not allow cash withdrawals, but it could be used at POS terminals. Russell thought the thing was not especially useful, yet when he actually swiped it, his heart ached for the entire afternoon.

With all his worries settled, Smith began teaching Russell wholeheartedly, passing on all his skills without reservation. He regarded Russell as a friend—the kind forged through life-and-death experiences—and taught him with incomparable dedication.

The quickest way to learn was through actual combat. No amount of theory could compare to exchanging real blows. On this point, Smith and Cross shared the same view. Smith brought Russell into the forest for combat drills. He held back, deliberately missing every time, but once he learned of Russell's remarkable talent, he began fighting seriously.

A max-level veteran grinding with a newbie—Russell's experience shot up like crazy. Life-and-death situations were the easiest times to break through. His brain worked at high speed, and his muscles memorized the movements again and again. Within days, he had already made Smith suffer a little.

The memories and experience of the Subway Police lingering inside Russell were continuously excavated, and he improved at a visibly rapid pace. The two one-time skills he had previously equipped, "One Hundred Percent Accuracy" and "Bullet Time," had also given Russell an extremely strong feel for firearms. Though he could not perfectly replicate those two divine skills, the system had already acknowledged that he had acquired a permanent skill.

Skill: Pistol Mastery (Your pistol skills are amazing.)

Compared to the advanced skills he had experienced, "Pistol Mastery" seemed rather ordinary. Yet Russell was deeply encouraged. The moment the system prompt sounded, he suddenly realized something.

The system was not the greatest cheat. It was merely the key to traveling through countless worlds, and what that key unlocked was endless resources!

A week passed. Once Russell had mastered his new skill, Smith told him that he had nothing more to teach.

A master could only lead someone to the door; cultivation depended on the individual. From then on, Russell could only rely on himself!

Russell did not say much. That evening, the two opened a bottle of red wine while Quintana prepared a lavish dinner. It was a farewell meal, and both of them drank to their hearts' content.

At noon the next day, Russell climbed into the Ford Pickup, turned the key, and waved at Smith.

"Honestly, even though we only spent a short time together, I can say for certain that you're the worst assassin I've ever seen. Your aptitude is unbelievably dull!" Smith was looking forward to his future life. Smiles had appeared more and more often on the hardened man's face lately, and he teased Russell as they parted.

Russell snorted and pulled the anonymous bank card from his pocket, slapping it against Smith's face.

Smith froze slightly as the bank card fell directly to the ground. Frowning, he said, "What is this supposed to mean? Do you think spending a little money will make me change my opinion of you?"

Russell shot Smith a haughty glance, radiating the air of a wealthy tycoon. "Poor bastard. There's about three hundred thousand bucks on it!"

Without another word, Smith picked up the bank card and tucked it into his inner pocket. He gave Russell a thumbs-up. "I take back what I said. You're a fucking genius!"

The two smiled at each other and bumped fists in midair.

"Oh, right. Will you come to my wedding with Quintana?"

"Sorry, I might have to miss it. I'm still a wanted man, after all." Russell shrugged, then drove the Ford away under Smith's gaze.

"I was going to say I still needed a best man... Fine, then. Good luck!"

Only after the pickup had vanished from sight did Smith turn and walk toward the new house. At the door, he saw Quintana holding the baby. He pulled mother and child into his arms and kissed Quintana on the forehead.

Quintana touched the beloved man's face, her fingers tracing the chiseled contours of his features. "What's wrong? Are you in a bad mood?"

"No, not at all... All right, you're right. I am a little disappointed!"

"Leave it to me. I have a way to make you happy immediately!"

Quintana smiled brightly. Her finger slid from Smith's chin to his chest, drew a small circle, then continued downward.

"I like that idea. I've already forgotten who Russell is!"

Please support me!