Chapter 42 Reverse Orbit

Chapter 42: Counter-Orbit

Once everyone had arrived, the club manager sent for drinks.

Zhuo Zhixuan picked up a cup and offered it to Tan Youming: "This one's for you."

"What is it?"

"Iced lemon tea. Isn't it your favorite? You used to bring it every day to rugby class." Zhuo Zhixuan handed him a straw. "Here. Cool off."

Tan Youming scoffed, pushing it away. "Haven't touched that stuff in ages."

Shen Zongnian's throat bobbed as he lowered his gaze, sipping his own glass of ice water.

After finishing their drinks, they went to change into shooting suits. Qin Zhaoting had arranged for the two of them to share a large locker room. Jiang Ying and Zhuo Zhixuan exchanged a glance and silently followed behind, wary of a potential confrontation.

Not wanting to make things awkward for his friends, Tan Youming didn't ask to switch rooms. He simply pulled on his shooting suit and headed straight out.

Shen Zongnian, as he put on his goggles, reminded him, "Your collar isn't turned out."

Tan Youming acted as if he hadn't heard, turning away without a glance.

Shen Zongnian pressed his lips together, then went to pick up a Desert Eagle to test its action. The 0.5 caliber was precise and refined—clearly, Qin Zhaoting was a true enthusiast who had put in the effort.

"Is everyone here? Help me test this system," Qin Zhaoting called out to the group of young masters.

"What is it?" Zhuo Zhixuan asked.

Qin Zhaoting activated the central control screen to show him, both proud and formal. "A new mode the club just launched."

Team combat, point-based.

"You'll be trying out the new batch of guns today. I need feedback on the experience." Given his status, a preliminary survey was pointless—no one would dare criticize. Ordinary rich kids would only flatter, which Qin Zhaoting found tiresome. It was rare to gather a group who genuinely knew their stuff.

"Alright, choose your teams," he said, opening the grouping mode on the large screen.

Tan Youming had his preferred teammates in mind and frowned. "Why bother drawing lots? Let's just form our own teams."

Qin Zhaoting wasn't indulging him today. "Do you think I invited you here just to play? I need to test the system's randomization. Hurry up, young masters. Who's first?"

Chen Wan, ever the peacemaker, stepped up first to support the host. "I'll go." After selecting on the screen, he picked up his familiar Beretta.

Zhao Shengge followed him and was assigned to the same team.

Jiang Ying and Shen Zongnian went next. The system issued two green cards in a row, placing them on the same team.

With one spot left on each side, Tan Youming frowned and criticized Qin Zhaoting. "What kind of lousy system is this? It's not random at all."

Qin Zhaoting laughed in exasperation. "I asked for feedback, not for you to pick fights, young master."

The young master lifted his chin, yielding his turn. "Ah Xuan, you go first."

Zhuo Zhixuan knew exactly what he meant and reluctantly stepped forward, ending up on Shen Zongnian and Jiang Ying's team.

Tan Youming was automatically assigned to Chen Wan and Zhao Shengge's team, which was just what he wanted. Pleased, he picked up a Browning and greeted his teammates, "Hey, we're on the same team."

"..." Zhao Shengge glanced at Shen Zongnian.

Chen Wan tapped him with his Beretta and smiled. "Let's do our best."

Qin Zhaoting looked over both teams: Zhao Shengge, Chen Wan, and Tan Youming—three experts evenly matched. Shen Zongnian, Jiang Ying, and Zhuo Zhixuan—two snipers carrying a rookie. The odds were stacked against them.

As the referee, Qin Zhaoting watched for system reactions and simulation flaws, swinging a long leg over to sit on the high platform. "Alright, begin."

Six young men simultaneously lowered their goggles and raised their guns.

The photoelectric targets moved randomly across ten positions, but the shooters had to remain within a confined area, firing in different directions. Points were scored based on rings hit.

Team combat tested not only marksmanship but also coordination. Red and purple laser beams crisscrossed chaotically.

Chen Wan's Beretta was nimble. He aimed first at the closer small targets, hitting two tens in 0.7 seconds, scoring first.

Shen Zongnian's hands were steady and accurate. Trained, his shooting was precise and ruthless, almost ghostlike. As two distant large targets overlapped, at the critical moment, his red laser bullet pierced both bullseyes at once—a one-in-a-million shot became a guaranteed double hit.

The score tightened.

The bullseyes drifted unpredictably, sometimes fast, sometimes slow, shrinking and expanding. Tan Youming, seething with unresolved anger, fired several shots consecutively toward the opposite side, startling Zhuo Zhixuan into dodging frantically.

Tan Youming's shooting style was flashy and unique, a stark contrast to the teacher who had taught him.

Every time he raised his gun, chambered a round, or aimed, he couldn't help but recall the other's hand warmth, touch, even the tone of instruction laced with discipline.

"Keep your shoulders steady, your sight level."

"Don't move recklessly."

"See clearly."

"Press with your index finger."

"Fire!"

"Bang!"

The snow from that day at the Fairbairn shooting range began to fall again in his mind.

But he was forced to realize, with painful clarity, that the person across from him was no longer the same—no longer his, no longer the Shen Zongnian he knew.

His dazed gaze met the other's through their goggles for a second. A buzzing filled Tan Youming's ears, his fingers trembling slightly. He realized, almost mournfully, that to erase Shen Zongnian's influence, he would have to forget even the skills and instincts he once possessed.

If Shen Zongnian left, he would no longer even be himself.

Why should it be this way?

The more he focused, the harder it became to aim. His fingers, his eyes, even his mind refused to obey. Tan Youming grew angrier, pressing his lips together as he forced himself to raise the gun again, aiming directly at the person who had taught him everything.

For a moment, gunfire surged like waves. Though there was no smoke, the atmosphere boiled over, as if the venue's ceiling might shatter at any second. Qin Zhaoting, at the center of the storm, remained unflinching.

"Ten points."

"Ten…"

"Ten…"

"Ten points."

The overlapping female announcements echoed through the empty hall as the scores remained fiercely contested.

Chen Wan changed tactics, opting for division of labor. Based on his calculations, the distant targets were fewer, so he took charge of them alone. The targets to the west and north were more numerous, requiring Zhao Shengge and Tan Youming to dismantle them together.

However, the chemistry between childhood friends was lacking. After Tan Youming once again stole a target, Zhao Shengge frowned at him: "Do you even know how to shoot?"

Tan Youming, already frustrated with pent-up anger with no outlet, retorted, "You're fucking terrible at it too!"

Zhao Shengge: "..."

Captain Chen Wan took a moment to turn around and mediate, "It's fine, just clarify your offense and defense."

Shen Zongnian seized the opportunity created by their internal conflict, coldly hitting ten-ring shots in rapid succession with his red laser bullets. Chen Wan put up a desperate resistance, while Zhao Shengge and Tan Youming temporarily united against the common enemy.

Shen Zongnian pressed his advantage relentlessly. Whenever there was an opening, his bullets would latch onto the target like a wolf's fangs sinking into prey, refusing to let go until the end.

This was a lesson learned from ten years of biding his time and two years of exile, as well as a survival rule ingrained in him since childhood.

Qin Zhaoting stood on the high spectator stand, arms crossed, observing. Noticing something interesting, he zoomed in on the bullet trajectory paths.

He operated the system, announcing that the match was entering its final countdown, with the scores of the two teams neck and neck.

Fewer and fewer moving targets appeared on the walls. The battles at the distant and western sections gradually concluded. Chen Wan and Zhuo Zhixuan were the first to lower their guns, followed by Zhao Shengge and then Jiang Ying.

In the final five seconds, only the remaining bullseyes within Shen Zongnian and Tan Youming's shooting ranges were left. Whoever could eliminate them would secure victory.

The countdown urged them on like a death knell. As if by unspoken agreement, both aimed their guns toward each other's direction.

"Five."

As if venting, Tan Youming fired two shots, one on each side of Shen Zongnian.

"Four."

Strangely, Shen Zongnian felt a sense of catharsis and release.

"Three."

Behind his goggles, Tan Youming's dark eyes burned with anger and hatred, hotter than the heated Browning in his hand. His grip trembled slightly, yet his aim remained precise.

"Two."

Shen Zongnian pressed his thin lips together, remaining motionless, defying the instinct to retaliate at the sound of gunfire that had been ingrained in him since childhood, allowing Tan Youming to vent.

Qin Zhaoting's new system might indeed lack intelligence. In the final second, new moving targets unexpectedly appeared on both sides simultaneously.

One bullseye landed directly above Tan Youming's forehead, the other aimed at the left side of Shen Zongnian's heart.

Tan Youming and Shen Zongnian chambered rounds simultaneously.

"Bang!"

The deafening roars intertwined. In the invisible gun smoke, both the Desert Eagle and the Browning missed their marks.

In the empty hall, the scoring female voice cycled through announcing: "Three rings," "Four rings," "Three rings," "Four rings."

It turned out the Browning harbored more hatred, missing by one ring.

It was Tan Youming who hated more, thus suffering a crushing defeat.

The red bullet, as if real, struck Tan Youming's forehead, exploding with pain that reddened his eyes and roared in his ears, shattering him to pieces in this tug-of-war without actual gun smoke.

Tan Youming didn't remove his goggles. He stood dazed for a full half-minute before snapping back to reality and apologizing to his teammates, "Sorry, my mistake."

Zhao Shengge, who always played to win, said understandingly: "It's fine. It's not like you're the only traitor."

"..."

The other traitor who'd made a critical error removed his goggles, shook his hair, and looked toward the giant scoreboard. Even in victory, not a trace of joy showed on his face.

Winners and losers alike were unhappy—a classic case of mutual destruction.

Qin Zhaoting approached, opened the central control to review the bullet trajectory replays, and teased Tan Youming, "What happened, young master? This shot of betrayal is truly..." He purposely zoomed in on the two intertwined bullet paths, "The pupil has surpassed the master."

Everyone knew Tan Youming's shooting skills were almost entirely taught hand-to-hand by Shen Zongnian. Although both were originally taught by Tan Zhongshan, Tan Youming was disobedient and had a short attention span, so his daily basic training was mostly overseen by Shen Zongnian.

Even the first gun in Tan Youming's life was a gift from Shen Zongnian. During a short-term training camp abroad years ago, Tan Zhongshan felt his son's skills were not refined enough to deserve a good gun. Shen Zongnian personally designed and modified one, crafting a custom piece for him.

Tan Youming used to show it off in front of them every day; Zhuo Zhixuan and the others couldn't bear to watch. Today, however, was a case of turning on one's own.

Qin Zhaoting continued reviewing the playback: "And this shot—it didn't miss, but it changed trajectory. No points were awarded." He smugly added, "Seems my new system upgrade was worth it. It sees everything clearly."

It could discern who genuinely sought victory and who was physically present but mentally elsewhere.

After gloating, he "tsk"ed: "But why did you change course at the last moment? The arrow was already on the bowstring, yet you held back."

Growing more enthusiastic, he counted: "One, two, three..." Qin Zhaoting pointed at the recorded data, the evidence indisputable. "Eighteen shots in total."

Each shot was evidence of soft-heartedness and lack of resolve. Tan Youming's face darkened completely.

Resentful, hateful, yet soft-hearted; pushed to the brink yet leaving a lifeline—Tan Youming resented the not-ruthless-enough Browning and hated even more his own spineless self.

Qin Zhaoting, taking advantage of being the host today, rubbed the young master the wrong way and exposed the fearsome one's weakness: "And the Desert Eagle—highest scoring rate, but intentionally missed shots, costing points."

Points that should have been earned were not, resulting in deductions added to the opponent's score.

Qin Zhaoting asked Shen Zongnian, "Are you a traitor too?"

A traitor betrays too many things—profound loyalty and righteousness, friendship, even one's true self can be discarded. Shen Zongnian's face was cold, his heart colder. He cocked the hammer and asked, "Do you want to test it?"