After leaving the dormitory, Dong Yi went around and went to the camp to practice the shooting range. He first found the logistics staff responsible for applying for materials.

This man looks like he is in his forties or fifties, with his eyelids shrouded. His job is very leisurely, and he is responsible for distributing bullets and guns, counting bullet shells and sealing them, and filling in documents.

There are multiple shooting ranges in the camp, and the shooting range he is located in is only responsible for receiving members of the Flying Tigers in the area.

The old policeman who had just finished lunch sat lazily in the application room and saw a new face coming to the shooting range that was usually unused.

Dong Yi came to this man, took out the application form in his hand through the counter window, and said with a smile: "Old man, please trouble you!"

The man took the application form and looked surprised, especially the standard column of time, guns and bullets, which actually contained two random words.

Time is free!

The types of guns are random!

The number of bullets is random!

He looked at the signature on the application form strangely, and it was indeed signed by Sir Jane himself.

I looked at the police rank on the shoulders of Dong Yi's Flying Tigers uniform. Apart from his own number, it was empty, which means that the person in front of me was just an ordinary policeman, and his level was not as high as that of himself.

At least he still has a gamble, how did this person get his instructor to agree?

But he is also an old bastard and is too lazy to care about so much, so he immediately took out the application form: "Fill in the firearms you want. I only have police standard pistols, submachine guns, sniper rifles. Each application form is only 100 times at most. If you still want to practice after 100 times, you have to fill in the form again.

By the way, you can't take away the shells that fell on the ground, I want to count and seal them!"

"I understand!" As he said that, Dong Yi immediately picked up the ballpoint pen next to the application counter to fill in the page, goggles, earmuffs, one hundred bullets, and three magazines. The pistol was equipped with the Flying Tigers police officer standard equipment.

He handed it to the policeman inside. After taking it, the man got up and walked through the house to the warehouse. He took out all the things Dong Yi wanted, earmuffs, goggles, two boxes of bullets, fifty rounds each, three magazines, and a standard pistol.

Dong Yi hurriedly took it, came to the shooting range where he was practicing, walked to the shooting position, and filled the magazine with bullets.

Then he put on his earmuffs and goggles and started shooting himself. He learned how he looked in the video, holding the gun handle in one hand, holding his wrist with the other, and aiming the muzzle at the target to practice.

The targets are divided into distances of ten meters, fifty meters and one hundred meters. Dong Yi opened the pistol safety bolt, let the bullet load, and aimed at the target ten meters away.

Bang!

Seventh Ring Road!

Then another shot, bang! Eight rings!

Bang! Bang! Bang...

A total of seven bullets, three shots, seven rings, one shot, eight rings, one shot, nine rings, two shots, ten rings!

When one magazine was lit, he immediately picked up another magazine and installed it, and began to shoot at the nearest target. His idea was very simple. He first practiced shooting from the nearest target, and when his correct head was almost the same, he started shooting further away.

Every time he shoots, he is as meticulous as possible, staring at the dots of the ten rings of the target, and trying to recall the feeling of hitting the ten rings when shooting the bullet.

After dozens of bullets, Dong Yi found that he could work hard to maintain between the eight and ten rings, but he did not have the ten rings he wanted at all. This was still a target at ten meters, not to mention a distance of fifty meters or one hundred meters.

During the practice, he found that practicing shooting was completely different from what he imagined.

The recoil of the gun will affect his performance every time. Even if he tries to recall the feeling of hitting the ten rings and try to maintain it, the recoil caused by the bullet at the moment of shooting will still affect the direction of the bullet he fires.

In this way, after a while of output, one hundred bullets began to gradually decrease, and just when there were only thirty bullets left, Dong Yi felt his arms begin to numb, and his wrists and palms felt burning.

More importantly, his attention began to dissipate and he became sleepy.

After one hundred shots, Dong Yi found that he was already full of big men and had no problems with physical strength, but his mental state began to get tired.

After the bullet was fired, he continued to come to the counter in the application room, wiped the sweat stains on his forehead, and then said, "A hundred more shots!"

"Come back!"

This old policeman looked reluctant when he saw Dong Yi still having to practice.

After all, he is just an old fox who is waiting to live a life and then retire. Dong Yi's endless practice of 100 times and 100 times has invisibly increased his workload.

He has to clean up the shells, and count them one by one, and then seal them. At that time, the monthly reviewers will have to count the warehouses and compare them one by one according to the number of application forms.

Because one bullet here disappears, maybe one more bullet will be added in Hong Kong cities. Regarding the restrictions on the use of internal weapons, the police have a very strict management process.

Usually, the Flying Tigers practice shooting, and each person only has 20 or 30 shots. After finishing the work, it is like routine, and it does not come every day, only a fixed day or two a week.

Sometimes, the instructors are too lazy to teach, and they often ask the members of the Flying Tigers to practice on their own. In this way, many people are doing things, and some are using excuses to go to the toilet and there are no people.

This is entirely because the shooting event seems interesting, but it becomes boring and boring over time.

Dong Yi had just understood this point. At first, he thought that he absolutely liked to practice shooting, but after firing a hundred bullets, he found that he took it for granted.

First of all, when shooting, the wrist and palm have to withstand the impact of recoil, which is similar to being pulled by someone's palm.

One hundred bullets are almost the same as sucking the palm of your hand. Although it doesn’t hurt that much, it is definitely not easy to feel after a 100 consecutive shots.

In addition, if someone can straighten his arms for a long time, see if his arms are numb.

Fortunately, Dong Yi's body has undergone systematic transformation and it is easy to talk about in terms of physical strength, but the consumption of mental power has given him a bit of a headache.

Every time he shoots, he will aim carefully, and then review the feeling of the ten rings he just shot, so that his brain can adjust his posture as much as possible after recalling it.

Then he tried to maintain this posture, then shot and fired, repeating it over and over again, and after one hundred shots, Dong Yi found that his attention began to be a little distracted and his eyelids were a little sleepy.

Of course, this also has something to do with his requirements. According to his practice intensity, it is entirely aimed at the sharpshooter who has hit every shot.

When he saw Dong Yi lowering his head to fill out the application form, the old policeman looked helpless, but this person had already passed the approval of his instructor, so he could only do it.

When Dong Yi took the bullet and came to the shooting position again, a figure quietly arrived, which he had unexpectedly expected.
Chapter completed!