HLM -Chapter 1310 Everyone Goes Shooting

The days that followed proved that Wang Bo and Eva’s trust in the Queen had been absolutely right—she took excellent care of the baby at night.

As a result, Father Bo and Mother Bo were finally convinced. They also noticed that when the baby stayed with the Queen, she cried much less. For several days in a row, the villa no longer echoed with the sound of a charging bugle; even when the baby cried occasionally, it was no more than a little trumpet.

By October, the outdoor shooting range in Sunset Town was finally completed. After passing the safety inspection, Wang Bo handed it over to Li Xing, who opened it directly to the public.

Outdoor shooting activities in New Zealand mainly fall into two categories: shotgun shooting and handgun–rifle shooting.

Shotguns are generally used for clay pigeon shooting. The range is equipped with clay throwers that launch flying discs into the air, and shooters rely on hand–eye coordination, reflexes, and feel to shatter them.

Handgun and rifle ranges are usually shared and collectively referred to as handgun–rifle ranges. Inside, there are fixed targets and moving targets. Both handguns and rifles can be used, though the shooting distances differ.

When Wang Bo was overseeing construction, he went to take a look himself. The range included targets at 10 meters, 25 meters, 50 meters, 100 meters, and so on.

For tourists, handgun–rifle shooting was far more popular than shotgun shooting—especially among domestic tour groups. Normally, they have no opportunity to handle handguns or rifles, and their knowledge of firearms comes entirely from TV shows and movies.

Under those circumstances, tourists naturally gravitate toward handguns and rifles, weapons they’re more familiar with. They see shotguns far less often, and heroes in movies rarely use shotguns as their main weapons, so fewer people choose to play with them.

However, once people become familiar with firearms, more of them end up choosing shotguns. Handguns and rifles emphasize accuracy and require a deep familiarity with recoil and overall firearm performance—doing well with them is actually quite difficult.

Shotguns, on the other hand, are much easier to pick up: shoulder the gun, brace against the recoil, and sweep the muzzle across the flying disc.

On the first weekend of October, the outdoor training ground officially opened. Wang Bo brought the entire police force to attend the opening ceremony.

The training ground was located within the area influenced by the Heart of the Training Grounds, enclosed by high-voltage electric fencing. One section inside was still under construction, intended to simulate urban combat; the construction crew was building houses and courtyard walls.

What opened first was the shooting range. It had a total of fifty firing positions, meaning it could accommodate fifty people at once—a truly large range. Many ranges in New Zealand cover only a dozen acres or so; being able to host ten people at once is already impressive.

Wang Bo took out his Glock 18 to practice shooting. He really needed to train his marksmanship. Forget comparing himself to Uncle Bing or Sweet Boy—even compared to Atulu or Conley, his shooting was inferior.

A few days earlier, Li Xing had arranged for publicity in town, so news of the range opening caused quite a stir. Domestic tour groups even temporarily added a new itinerary item: shooting at the range.

Wang Bo and his officers effectively served as a warm-up for the range. When ordinary visitors entered, New Zealand residents had to present a firearms license—without one, entry was forbidden. Tourists, on the other hand, had to complete a psychological assessment questionnaire.

After hearing the rules, Atulu said, “Isn’t this a bit too much trouble? I’ve been to lots of ranges—none of them were this strict.”

Li Xing shook his head. “Guns are too dangerous. It’s better to set a higher entry threshold. When I was a mercenary, I saw too many lunatics. They look no different from normal people, but once they get a gun, they go berserk. If someone like that gets into the range, everything Old Wang has done for Sunset Town could go down the drain.”

That was absolutely true. Wang Bo nodded. He wasn’t counting on the training ground to make much money anyway—it was originally built for the police force. Li Xing’s approach was correct. Fewer people was fine, as long as nothing went wrong.

If a shooting incident were to occur in Sunset Town, the town would truly be ruined.

That said, the range didn’t raise the entry bar without limit. In some respects, it was still quite humane: as long as an adult accompanied them, children were allowed to enter the range.

Wang Bo brought along Dale. Li Xing had even prepared a gift for her—a miniature AR-16, a children’s firearm that had just entered the New Zealand market, modified from the famous civilian rifle AR-15.

The entire gun was pink and looked very pretty. Wang Bo picked it up and tested it—it was much lighter than a normal firearm, light enough for Dale to lift and play with one-handed.

Li Xing said, “Don’t worry. This gun uses plastic modular components. Both the weight and recoil are much lower than standard firearms. Put a shoulder pad on Dale, and there won’t be any problems.”

Wang Bo looked at Dale’s face, full of anticipation, and nodded. “Alright, you can use this gun—but you still have to be careful.”

New Zealand families don’t shy away from children coming into contact with weapons. In people’s eyes, a gun is just a tool—a tool for self-protection and defending one’s rights. If someone uses a gun to do bad things, the fault lies not with the gun itself, but with the person using it.

As for why bad people get guns, that’s an issue of laws and regulations—a loophole in firearm management. Problems can be solved, loopholes can be patched, but guns still can’t simply be abandoned.

Influenced by this mindset, some parents who want to train their children in self-protection let them come into contact with firearms from an early age, teaching them relevant knowledge and skills.

Wang Bo and Eva were that kind of parents. Eva often maintained firearms at home, and occasionally she would call Dale over to help, teaching her maintenance techniques and basic firearm knowledge—an early introduction to guns.

Once inside the range, everyone split up. Atulu grabbed a shotgun and went to shoot clay pigeons. Before leaving, he waved to Wang Bo. “Boss, what’s the fun in playing with a handgun? Come shoot clays with us.”

Wang Bo refused. “I’m here to seriously train my marksmanship. You guys go have fun.”

Uncle Bing said, “Have Bowen coach you. He’s excellent with handguns—even I can’t beat him now.”

Bowen shook his head. “I can’t coach Old Wang. He’s too dumb. Shooting requires talent. The first time I picked up a gun, I could already hit moving rapid-fire targets.”

Hearing that, a group of officers immediately showed looks of admiration.

Juan asked, “What score did you get back then? Don’t lie—we all know you well. If you lie, we’ll be able to tell.”

At that, Bowen stopped smiling. “Shit, Juan, you’re really no fun. Do you have to dig into this kind of question?”

Wang Bo was one of the people who knew him best. Seeing his reaction, he grew interested. “Right, right, cowboy—tell us. What score did you get your first time?”

Bowen deflated. “You guys are really annoying. Fine—the first time I did handgun rapid fire, I missed every single shot. But I was only ten years old then. Being able to do handgun rapid fire at that age—don’t you think that’s impressive?”

Wang Bo waved to signal Hou Haibo to activate a moving target. Then he quickly and continuously pulled the trigger. A series of crisp gunshots rang out, and several holes appeared on the moving target.

Seeing this, he smugly lowered his gun. “See? That was also my first handgun rapid fire. My results are way better than yours.”