The result was obvious.
Even though Lin Mo had deliberately cranked up the difficulty, for Rebecca, it seemed to be nothing more than a warm-up.
Aside from the brief gaps while reloading, she had fired through nearly six full magazines—and without exception, every single round had struck the vital zones of the humanoid targets.
With such astonishing talent, Lin Mo couldn't find a better word than: terrifying.
Rebecca gave Lin Mo a smug look, blew across the non-existent smoke from her barrel, and grinned arrogantly.
"Well?" she asked.
"Pretty badass," Lin Mo replied honestly.
Rebecca frowned slightly. It sounded like a compliment, but somehow… something felt off about the way he said it.
"Wanna give it a try yourself?" she asked, pouting a little.
"With your level? I'd just be humiliating myself," Lin Mo shook his head, refusing without hesitation.
He knew his own strengths and limitations. Aiming to become a time-stopping swordmaster, he had considerable skill with blades.
But when it came to modern tech like this—where "the times have changed, old man"—and smart weapons reigned supreme, his gunplay was… mediocre at best.
The reasoning was simple: against heavy firepower, enemies would dodge, seek cover, implant dermal armor—do whatever it took to avoid getting shot.
Real life wasn't a game. Lin Mo had keenly noticed that the skills unlocked in his simulator didn't include a single one that boosted firearm damage.
And that made sense. Unlike game systems, the simulator's abilities were more grounded in reality.
They only affected himself.
No matter how powerful a gun was, it was still an external tool. Its upper limit was fixed—it couldn't be enhanced through the simulator's skill tree.
Against low-tier grunts, sure—tech weapons and smart weapons could easily wipe them out.
But when facing elite enemies, guns lost much of their edge.
But in the hands of the Black Unicorn, paired with the [Still Mind, Thunderous Strike] specialty and activated Sandevistan, his blade attacks could deal double damage. There were probably things in the world that could stop his sword, but not many.
So instead of patching up his weak spots, Lin Mo always chose to double down on his strengths.
Rebecca's face visibly dropped at his refusal.
Her big eyes narrowed into a glare, clearly displeased.
"You're no fun, Little Lin Mo."
They came here to practice together, but the kid wouldn't even shoot. He was acting like some shy, blushing rookie. It totally killed her mood.
Seeing her annoyed look, Lin Mo chuckled and picked up his two pistols, walking over to a nearby shooting lane.
"If you really want me to shoot, fine. Let's make it a match."
"A match? What kind?" Rebecca's eyes lit up.
"We're already at a range, aren't we? What kind of match wouldn't we do here? And to make it more interesting, how about we add a little wager?" Lin Mo said, like he'd planned it all along.
"Winner gets to take one thing from the loser. What that thing is, depends on the loser's mood."
Rebecca gave him a weird look. Her eyes scanned him from top to bottom, as if trying to read his mind.
This so-called bet Lin Mo had proposed… from another perspective, wasn't it just a way to give her something?
The winner got the prize, but the loser picked it. No matter how you looked at it, she was more likely to win.
Thinking of it that way, Rebecca's mouth twitched. She looked at Lin Mo suspiciously and asked:
"You're not planning to give me a pair of your stinky socks, are you?"
Lin Mo: ...
Sometimes, he truly couldn't keep up with this girl's thought process.
"We'll see who wins. You should probably start thinking about what you're going to give up," he shot back coldly, checking his weapons.
Seeing the challenge in his eyes, Rebecca's competitive spirit kicked in. She smirked as she reloaded her guns with practiced ease.
"Alright then. Let's see what you've got."
The moment the first target dropped from the ceiling, both of them opened fire simultaneously.
To his credit, Lin Mo didn't fall back on using smart weapons.
He held his flame-painted Unity pistol in a standard tactical grip, aiming precisely at the targets. The muzzle flared, and rounds flew.
To keep the match fair, he chose not to activate his Sandevistan. Even though Rebecca had laughed and encouraged him to use it, he wasn't about to sacrifice his dignity just to win.
Still, Kerenzikov's passive pseudo-time-dilation effect was always in play. That wasn't something he could control.
Lin Mo had used this gun a few times before—it was one of his spoils of war, after all—and he understood its unique properties.
Aside from its custom thermal incendiary rounds, the Unity could also fire standard ammunition. Depending on the type, the damage output varied.
For this match, he wasn't using the fancy stuff—just standard bullets he picked up from the range.
Even so, the gun's modified design made every muzzle flash burst forth with impressive intensity, far beyond that of ordinary firearms.
In contrast, Rebecca's tech pistols made barely a whisper. Only a few electric arcs crackled at the muzzle as standard metal rounds zipped out at terrifying speeds, punching through the targets with ease.
Their little contest even drew the attention of shop owner Wilson. The chubby man didn't enter the range—he just peeked through the wired-glass window on the wall.
The scent of gunpowder drifting out made him mutter in surprise:
"Damn, they've fired how many rounds? Are their hands made of iron?"
And the match went on.
When the final target dropped and was gunned down, no new ones appeared.
Lin Mo casually blew across the barrel of his pistol. Though there was still some distance between him and the muzzle, he could feel the residual heat from prolonged firing.
He turned with a confident smirk toward the score tracker.
Just as expected—
88 to 95.
He lost.
Lin Mo wasn't surprised by the result. It was pretty much what he'd anticipated.
"I lost. So, Miss Rebecca, feel free to name whatever you want from me," he said without hesitation, setting his pistol on the table.
Seeing that he wasn't at all dejected about the loss, Rebecca let out a quiet sigh. The thrill of victory didn't quite hit the way she'd expected.
She glanced at the stuff on him and asked:
"Didn't you say the loser gets to choose the prize? So why are you asking me?"
"In the words of Falco, a gentleman should yield to a lady. I'm not a gentleman, but it doesn't hurt to ask. Besides, the gift is still my choice in the end, isn't it?" Lin Mo smiled.
Rebecca groaned, feeling mentally drained. She pointed at the fiery red Unity pistol on the table and blurted:
"I want that one. You gonna give it to me?"
Lin Mo considered it briefly, then nodded.
"Sure."
That Unity pistol had some collector's value—especially with that slick flame paint job—but in actual use, it didn't compare to smart weapons. He didn't mind handing it over.
As Rebecca took the flame-patterned pistol and tucked it away, she smiled mischievously and suddenly pulled one of her Omaha pistols from the table, handing it to Lin Mo.
"Hmm?" Lin Mo looked puzzled.
"Well, I am your senpai, after all. I can't just take something from Little Lin Mo without giving back. Consider this a gift. Take care of it," she said with a grin.
Lin Mo frowned. "But that was a penalty for losing. It's not like you just took it."
"You're not planning to stop after one match, are you?" Rebecca countered.
"If you want to keep going, I'm down," Lin Mo nodded.
"There you go, then." Rebecca grinned again and gently patted his back. Her voice turned playful and soft:
"Because in the next match… I'm going to lose to you, Little Lin Mo~"
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