A Victory Decided? Not Yet!

Liu Zheng never regretted the choices she made herself.

Replicating Xu Lingqu's route right under her nose—that was an absurd idea that had popped into her head at the starting line. Under normal circumstances, Liu Zheng's rational system would have vetoed it outright.

After all, when you replicate someone else's route right in front of them, you're essentially handing them complete knowledge of your movements. Being taken out by Xu Lingqu in this round was practically a foregone conclusion—from the looks of it, it might even be a wasted effort.

But at this moment, with her rational system out of commission, Liu Zheng didn't see it that way.

She lay on the ground, feeling the wind of this small planet sweep across the dirt, kicking up tiny specks of dust from the obstacle course. Her heart felt lighter and more at ease than it ever had before.

Xu Lingqu, who could come up with such a new route in such a short time, was truly formidable—a completely worthy opponent. Having run the route herself, Liu Zheng could now also sense the weaknesses that still existed in it.

These weaknesses would be etched into her mind, and in the next round of shooting, she would absolutely take down Xu Lingqu with a shot straight from the scenario she had envisioned.

The very Xu Lingqu who was supposedly about to be sniped was currently off-field, briefing Jin and Wang Qihu on the newly revised route and tactics.

"Wait, this—this is completely different from what you planned last round," Wang Qihu said, utterly astonished. He licked his lips and glanced at Xu Lingqu several times. "Don't tell me you came up with all this in that tiny window of time just now."

"What else? It's not like I can pause time to think things over," Xu Lingqu said. She knew full well why Liu Zheng had replicated her route.

It wasn't a deliberate provocation, nor was it a desperate gamble born of panic.

Only by experiencing the problem firsthand could you magnify it to its fullest when viewing it from a third-person perspective. Xu Lingqu completely understood Liu Zheng's reasoning.

When you have a worthy opponent, not a single move is wasted. That was the unspoken understanding that sometimes existed between rivals.

"But this route has only been run through in your head? We're just going to execute it live on the field? Is that really okay?" Wang Qihu still had his doubts. As much as Xu Lingqu had come to resemble a master strategist who could predict everything in his mind, basing a sudden change of plan on a route that had only been mentally simulated was still something to hesitate over.

Jin couldn't help but sling an arm over his shoulder and complain loudly, "How can a guy who looks so big and burly be so wishy-washy when it comes to action? Routes are meant to be tested out by people. The commander told us to do it, so we just go and do it. You've gotta have some of that fearless vanguard spirit, man..."

Xu Lingqu silently covered her ears. Jin could be so noisy at times she couldn't stand it. Either you had to give him the cold shoulder continuously like Shen Shouli, which could barely manage to rein him in a little, or you had to have Xu Xiqin heatedly argue with him, turning the two of them into a pair of stamina freaks competing over some nonsense, burning each other's energy until they both shut up.

Wang Qihu was so flustered by all the noise that his head was spinning, but he still seriously latched onto one phrase: the only way to know if a path works is to walk it, so why not give it a try?

You should always have faith in your commander. He glanced at Xu Lingqu, thinking this to himself, and as this round of obstacle running began, he made up his mind: he would follow Xu Lingqu's new plan to the letter.

From the very first step they took, alarm bells started ringing in Liu Zheng's mind. Her worst-case scenario had just come true—Xu Lingqu had predicted her prediction and, in a short span, reworked her route and strategy.

She could only lift her scope and begin re-acquiring Xu Lingqu's position and movement.

The new route was even more disorienting and hard to read than the old one. Sometimes you had to backtrack a couple of steps. Wang Qihu grumbled inwardly while following the instructions, but then, when the route actually helped him dodge a hail of bullets, he mentally gave Xu Lingqu a round of thunderous applause.

Everything proceeded methodically according to Xu Lingqu's arrangement, as if she were the puppeteer of this training ground, using an invisible thread to move everyone along the plotline she had written.

When they reached the finish line, Liu Zheng had already missed two shots. The final stretch couldn't possibly allow for any more flashy tricks. She told herself to stay calm and steady, and her grip on the rifle grew steadier, more resolute.

The first two times, she had sniped Xu Lingqu from this same position. She believed the third time would work too.

But Xu Lingqu had a life principle: three strikes, and that's enough.

At the end of the story, the person who mattered most made his move. Liu Zheng's bullet still came flying from that tricky angle, straight at Xu Lingqu. But just then, Jin suddenly spun around, and with the conviction of someone catching a blade with his bare hands, he shielded Xu Lingqu with his body, taking that fatal bullet for her.

Meanwhile, Xu Lingqu did a front flip and crossed the finish line. To Wang Qihu, it all seemed to move in slow motion, every frame playing out in sluggish detail. Even after he himself crossed the line, he stood there dazed for a long time, struggling to process what had just happened.

Wang Qihu's bulk had always been a smokescreen for Xu Lingqu. She had never intended to use his size to block shooting angles.

For ordinary people, that might work, but for Liu Zheng? There was no way it would.

Liu Zheng's target had always been clear—she spent nearly all three bullets each round on Xu Lingqu, not even bothering to pick off an easy kill for points.

If Wang Qihu had been the one tasked with the final bullet-blocking role, his bulk would have made him too conspicuous, and Liu Zheng would have taken him out before he even got that far.

So in the end, Xu Lingqu chose Jin as the final piece of her mobile-shield plan.

And it was precisely because of Jin's selfless, last-second diversion that Wang Qihu, by sheer chance, managed to pass as well.

"We're even now! Every one of us has successfully passed once, hehe." Jin scrambled up with a grin, striking a victorious pose. "Xu Lingqu, you won! I won too! Hahahahahaha!"

He was laughing smugly off to the side when Xu Lingqu turned around, and for the first time, she truly studied Liu Zheng, who was holding her sniper rifle.

She hadn't won yet.

This kind of psychological trickery could only be used once. In the next few rounds of obstacle running, Liu Zheng's three bullets wiped out Xu Lingqu, Jin, and Wang Qihu all in one go.

Jin lay on the ground, complaining most unhappily, "This crazy woman—now she's just going for the whole crew at once, burning down the house and wiping us all out. Seriously, Xu Lingqu, can't you cook up some more schemes or tricks?"

"What do you take me for, a supercomputer?" Xu Lingqu was also lying there like a corpse. After several rounds, her body was hitting its limit again. Even running was a struggle, let alone thinking.

"Fine, fine. Anyway, after the last ten rounds, you'll definitely be one point ahead of her. You're not about to let her get a shot past you either." Jin consoled himself that way.

And Liu Zheng was thinking the exact same thing.

When today's shooting session was completely over, she appeared before Xu Lingqu again.

"I lost." Liu Zheng looked at Xu Lingqu and said flatly. She was genuinely, completely convinced. After a brief flash of frustration at having been manipulated through her emotions, she inexplicably found a sense of release.

She simply wasn't good enough. She conceded defeat, and there was no one else to blame.

Xu Lingqu was so exhausted she was crouched down, gasping for air. Watching Liu Zheng turn to leave, she forced herself upright.

"Do you think we've settled who's better—at shooting?"

At these words, Liu Zheng stopped in her tracks.

"What do you mean?" She turned back to face Xu Lingqu, who was still speaking between breaths.

Xu Lingqu made a gesture, signaling her to wait. She watched as Xu Lingqu recovered, then lifted her head.

"Today's shooting session wasn't exactly pure shooting practice, was it?" Xu Lingqu pushed her damp bangs back from her forehead. "What you're good at is something like stationary target shooting. Today wasn't fair for you."

Liu Zheng was silent for a moment, then spoke. "You know, when you—as the winner—turn around and pity me, sympathize with me, it's really hurtful."

She rarely spoke such a long sentence. The anger was clear.

Xu Lingqu smiled. "Then you'd better get used to it, because that's how rotten I am. You think we've settled it, but I think it's undecided. The shooting range is open, and in a couple days there should be a dedicated stationary shooting session."

She paused, then added, "I'm going to beat you at the event you're most confident in."

With that, Xu Lingqu turned and walked off first, leaving Liu Zheng—who had been about to leave—frozen in place.

The resignation, the despair, the dead-heartedness she had been feeling were swept out of her heart by those words. In their place came a new flame: defiance, anger, and a rising competitive fire.

Xu Lingqu was a strange person; she had a knack for planting emotions in the people around her.

Liu Zheng remained steadfast in that belief.