HLM -Chapter 1319 This Works Too?!

Wang Bo’s marksmanship was probably the worst in the entire place—if there were a contest for being bad, no one here could beat him.

So when Ye Qipeng said that, it was a bit too much—he was clearly trying to force Wang Bo to back down.

But Wang Bo didn’t believe in jinxes. He reached out, picked up the gun, and said, “President Ye’s words are exactly to my liking. But we’re both people in high positions—there are many things we can’t do alone and need helpers for.”

Ye Qipeng gave a crafty smile. “Then it wouldn’t be a contest between us anymore. What’s the point of that?”

“How would it not be our contest?” Wang Bo replied. “We’re still the ones firing the shots. We just find a helper to give guidance or other assistance. They can’t hold a gun. How about that?”

His words immediately piqued the interest of both Ye Qipeng and Assistant Lang. They exchanged glances, identical looks of confusion on their faces.

Even though this duo was nearly unrivaled in the global agri-grain industry, at this moment they still couldn’t figure out Wang Bo’s tactic.

There was no doubt about it—Wang Bo’s shooting was atrocious. If he was the one pulling the trigger, Ye Qipeng didn’t believe that no amount of instruction could turn him into a sharpshooter. Even if someone held his hands and helped him shoot, it still wouldn’t work.

Wang Bo asked, “President Ye, you’re hesitating a bit too much. Where’s the boldness you had when you acquired the India–South Asia Grain Transportation Group? Care to have a match?”

Ye Qipeng replied briskly, “No need to provoke me—I accept. I really want to see your countermeasure. If I end up meeting a super sharpshooter who can turn stone into gold because of this, then even losing would be worth it.”

Wang Bo smiled. “Very well. Then who is your assistant?”

After some thought, Ye Qipeng said, “I’ll ask that special-forces instructor of yours to be my assistant. Let me be clear—he must do his utmost to help me.”

“No problem,” Wang Bo said. “Uncle Bing, go help him. From now on, you’re his adjutant on the battlefield. Use everything you’ve got to help him win!”

Uncle Bing snapped to attention and saluted. “Yes, sir!”

“And who’s your assistant?” Ye Qipeng asked curiously. Everyone else looked at Wang Bo with the same curiosity.

Wang Bo smiled faintly, then tilted his head back and blew a sharp whistle while waving his hand.

There had always been a black speck circling in the sky. When it saw Wang Bo’s gesture, the speck suddenly grew larger, turning into a dark shadow. In almost a single second, it swooped down—transforming from a shadow into a majestic falcon.

The fierce offspring of a hybrid between a saker falcon and a peregrine falcon—the king of the skies over Sunset Town: Little Meng!

“This is my assistant,” Wang Bo said proudly.

Ye Qipeng sucked in a sharp breath. “You’re cheating!”

He had guessed Wang Bo’s tactic—and it really was foolproof.

Obviously, Wang Bo had called Little Meng down so it could snatch the clay targets released by the trap machine and bring them right in front of him to shoot. If Little Meng dropped the clay right at his feet, wouldn’t hitting it be a sure thing?

Uncle Bing shook his head. “Mr. Ye, don’t rush. Once the clay hits the ground, it counts as a failure. And if it doesn’t hit the ground, then to avoid injuring the falcon, the clay would have to be dropped from the air. Based on my understanding of the boss’s shooting skills, even then he might not be able to hit it.”

Ye Qipeng thought for a moment, then smiled. “Alright. Thanks for the reminder. Then let’s bet on it like this!”

Wang Bo let him go first. Uncle Bing suggested using double-shot mode—two clays launched one after another, with a slower rhythm. “This will help you maintain continuity. Single-shot mode can easily lead to cold hands and visual misalignment.”

Ye Qipeng’s expression turned solemn. After all, this bet involved a massive business deal—he had to take it seriously.

After some consideration, he accepted Uncle Bing’s advice and held up his index and middle fingers to Hou Haibo. “Double launch. Two-second interval.”

Everything was ready. Hou Haibo adjusted the launcher’s firing frequency. When Ye Qipeng nodded, the machine made a crisp whoosh, and a clay target shot upward at an angle.

Ye Qipeng didn’t fire immediately. He waited until it reached the apex of its arc. According to physics, when a clay reaches the top of its trajectory, there’s a brief moment of suspension before it begins to fall.

Seizing that instant, he fired.

Bang!

The clay shattered into powder.

Just then, the second clay launched. Using the same method, it too was blown apart.

Sparse applause sounded. Li Xing patted Wang Bo on the shoulder and said, “How are you feeling? He’s a real pro—he shot even better than before.”

Wang Bo smiled. “Relax. I’ve got this.”

Bang bang bang bang…

After a series of shots, all ten clays had been launched. Only the seventh one was missed; the other nine were shattered.

When Ye Qipeng lowered his gun, Uncle Bing applauded. “Beautiful, Mr. Ye. You could compete in Olympic trap shooting.”

Ye Qipeng waved it off. “Thanks for the praise, Benjamin. But let’s not talk about the fact that our shooting distance is a bit shorter than in official competitions—ten clays is also far too few.”

He was telling the truth. In Olympic trap shooting, the maximum clay flight distance is 75 meters, with a flight time of 4–5 seconds. The optimal shotgun hit range is within 35 meters.

Therefore, shooters must fire within 15–20 meters of the clay leaving the trap, meaning they must complete gun mount, aiming, and firing within 0.4–0.6 seconds. The speed and reaction required are self-evident.

Now it was Wang Bo’s turn.

He pointed at the clay targets for Little Meng to see, then pulled open his pocket. This was the gesture he used when training Little Meng—it meant to grab the prey shown only to it and bring it back.

After seeing it once, Little Meng spread its wings and took off.

Ye Qipeng and Assistant Lang stared at each other in disbelief. “Is this bird divine or something? It understands with just one gesture?”

“Don’t worry, President Ye,” someone said. “Mayor Wang needs ten hits out of ten. That’s too hard.”

Little Meng flew up. Wang Bo shouted to Hou Haibo, “Single launch. Interval on my command. Okay—first one, go!”

The launcher spun, and a clay target flew out, spinning rapidly.

Seeing the clay, Little Meng flicked its wings and shot upward with a whoosh, extending its talons and grabbing the clay with pinpoint precision.

Then it flew back.

Wang Bo flashed Ye Qipeng a brilliant smile, raised his shotgun, and—

“Holy shit!” Ye Qipeng’s eyelid twitched as he involuntarily blurted out a curse he would never use in public.

Little Meng flew over and gently placed the flat, round clay target horizontally on the muzzle of the gun. Wang Bo was using a double-barreled shotgun—the wide muzzle made it easy. With a slight adjustment between him and Little Meng, the clay sat securely on top.

When Wang Bo blew his whistle, Little Meng released the clay and immediately dove downward. At the same instant, Wang Bo pulled the trigger.

Bang!

The clay shattered into dust once again…

Ye Qipeng and Assistant Lang stood there dumbfounded. Only after Wang Bo had consecutively hit two clays did they snap back to their senses.

“This works too?!”