Murakami's mini pistol had only five bullets, and he couldn't do anything to Long Xiaoqi. After the shooting, he was still standing there, holding a bottle of wine and a goblet filled with blood in his right hand.

"It's very average shooting." Long Xiaoqi raised his legs and grinned, "Your shooting is completely accomplished by the performance of the pistol itself. For this kind of shooting, I'll give you a bad review. You should know that the real shooting is not the performance of the pistol, and the real shooting competition is not how fast it is. Its lies in the fact that you can shoot several enemies at close range in the shortest time.

Even if you use a desert eagle with a rifle bolt, you can complete the shooting. By the way, let me teach you a little more that the pistol shooting is done by using the movements of the body. Among the hundreds of avoidances, all the living forces will be eliminated as fast as possible in avoidances. This is the pistol shooting. Really, I can only give you a bad review of your shooting, but I want to give you a thumbs up for your attitude."

Long Xiaoqi is still leisurely and contented, but his leisurely and contentment is just a strategic contempt. In terms of tactics, he never dares to take it lightly. And the shooting theory he mentioned is correct, and this competition is not about degree. If shooting depends on the shooting degree, a person who has never received professional training can also achieve excellent performance with the performance of a pistol.

He despised Murakami's shooting and fired five shots in a row, without even touching his hair. This was not that Murakami's shooting was too bad, but that he knew the completion of a professional soldier's pistol shot. Because he was clear, he could avoid it without thinking. Although this was full of adventure, when wasn't Long Xiaoqi's life taking risks?

I despise you, I look down on you, what can you do? Even pistols can't kill people, and you're here to chase me. You're so brave!

Facing Long Xiaoqi who despised him, Murakami showed unprecedented solemnity. He took a step to the side, placed the tray on the table, and nodded slightly at Long Xiaoqi.

"Please give me some advice!" Murakami made a bloodthirsty voice.

"Wait!" Long Xiaoqi suddenly stood up and shouted with a serious look on his face: "You used to be a professional soldier, and I am also a professional soldier. I wonder if your ancestors have participated in the war of aggression against China? Answer me!"

Today, 80% of the Japanese ancestors have participated in the war of aggression against China. At that time, the vast China was the largest battlefield for the Japanese. In the later stages, they directly captured the strong men from the country to the battlefield, and almost all the men in the country were captured. At the beginning of the war of aggression against China, the Japanese troops were still real soldiers, adhering to the spirit of Bushido. Some soldiers even treated them well, helping the people in the occupied areas. This was not beautification, but fact.

Real soldiers never bother to kill and kill the people. In their concept, war is a war between soldiers. In addition, many soldiers in the early days were warriors, so their behavior was far less harsh.

But in the middle and late stages, as the front line expanded, the soldiers were killed and injured, and batches of soldiers were pulled from the country. But these soldiers didn't understand the spirit of Bushido at all. They came here to kill. They killed and did everything evil, but they were just soldiers, but they were not soldiers. The two seemed similar, but they were worlds different.

Music has no borders, and art has no borders, but few people know that real professional soldiers have no borders.

"My grandfather was the 15th Independent Aviation Regiment of the Kanto Army..."

"I understand!" Long Xiaoqi interrupted Murakami and whispered loudly: "Your grandfather must be a samurai, right?"

"Yes, he is a real samurai!" Murakami looked proud.

Samurai, a symbol of honor, is the so-called Yamato spirit in Japan. Every samurai is respected. If a samurai appears in a family, everyone will have light on their faces.

"Okay! Then we will fight in the decisive battle in the form of a warrior!" Long Xiaoqi said, "Your grandpa was a criminal during the war of aggression against China, and my grandpa was a hero during the war of resistance. You stand on your national stand and I stand on my national stand. Let's have a decisive battle with a warrior. Whether you are the sick husbands of East Asia or we are the sick husbands of East Asia, it is up to us to decide!"

From a warrior to a national height, then to a higher point of the belonging of the sick man in East Asia... In just a short time, Long Xiaoqi adjusted the atmosphere, and the entire private room was filled with clear opposition between countries and tough collisions between nations. After the height rose, Murakami's heart, a professional soldier, was completely activated, and of course he was willing to defeat Long Xiaoqi in a decisive battle.

"Yes, let's fight in the form of a samurai!" Murakami looked passionate.

The two countries are enemies, and they instantly enter the battle of dignity between countries. When they enter this battle, Murakami forgets his identity as a killer, his sense of belonging, and his sense of honor make him ignore his current profession and turn to national loyalty.

"Okay! But let me go to the toilet first!" Long Xiaoqi narrowed his eyes and said coldly: "You won't attack me while I go to the toilet, are you? You are the descendant of the Warrior Family, you..."

"Hmph!" Murakami snorted coldly, looking at him disdainfully.

He stood there steadily with his arms held back, using this action to show that he was not the kind of slutty person.

"I believe in the spirit of warriors, and I believe in you too. When I wait for me for a minute, I will go in and pee and come out." Long Xiaoqi walked towards the bathroom with great strides.

"Bang!"

The bathroom door is closed tightly.

Murakami didn't even look at the bathroom, so he was not afraid of Long Xiaoqi escaping. The bathroom in this private room was different from the outside. Before he came, he had to understand the environment of this private room, so he was not worried at all. He wanted to kill Long Xiaoqi head-on, proving that the Yamato nation is the best. He told everyone with his actions that Chinese professional soldiers are just like this!

Walking into the bathroom, Long Xiaoqi did one thing: remove the toilet lid and squat in the corner, shrink his whole body into a ball and drill into the bottom of the sink, and use the toilet lid to block his body.

He took out a cell phone and dialed a number.

At the same time, Murakami in the private room heard a series of pleasant cell phone ringtones. The moment he heard the ringtone, his face changed drastically.

"Bageya Lu!!!"

Murakami scolded and ran away.

"boom!"

"boom!"

"Bang!"

"Crazy..."

Two violent explosions sounded, and behind the private room door, the ceiling of the private room collapsed at the same time. The glass of the window could not withstand the explosion's shock wave and burst one after another.

Countless fragments and residues flew across the world, immediately enveloped Murakami.

Even if he avoided it immediately, even if he used tables and chairs as cover, he could not avoid the impact of the scattered flowers of the goddess.
Chapter completed!