Looking at the mad genius beside him, Zhou Quan shook his head with a quiet chuckle.
"I won't be entering any more competitions!"
The moment those words fell, the smile on Pang Yik-hang's face froze.
Apart from himself, few people ever stirred Pang Yik-hang's competitive spirit.
Yet now Zhou Quan was saying that he would not enter any more IPSC competitions. How could Pang Yik-hang possibly accept that?
"IPSC may be called practical shooting, but to me, it's nothing more than children playing house."
Ignoring Pang Yik-hang's somewhat sour expression, Zhou Quan said bluntly, "Entering this kind of competition means nothing to me, even if I keep winning the championship."
"Perhaps I'll take a little interest when someone comes along and breaks my record."
"And with your current results, surpassing me is basically impossible."
Pang Yik-hang opened his mouth, wanting to refute Zhou Quan.
But he knew in his heart that Zhou Quan was telling the truth.
Twenty-seven point two zero seconds!
Thirty-three point four zero seconds!
On the surface, those two times were only six short seconds apart.
In reality, however, an immense, unbridgeable gulf lay between them.
Pang Yik-hang had not even broken the thirty-second barrier, let alone twenty-eight seconds.
Zhou Quan took in every change in Pang Yik-hang's expression.
"Truly top-tier shooters almost invariably have ties to the Disciplined Services."
A meaningful smile curved his lips as he said pointedly, "IPSC originally evolved from simulated training used by special forces overseas."
"But how could a competitive sport possibly compare to actual special forces training?"
"Your shooting may be accurate, but your tactical movement is a complete mess-all undisciplined, self-taught improvisation."
"To put it bluntly, if you and I faced off in real combat..."
"I'm fully capable of evading your aim, while you'd be nothing but a live