“Uwaa—” The basement breathed like a cool cave, and the blonde girl yawned like a drowsy cat.

Across from her, Hoshina cradled black tea, sipping slow, savoring a flavor conjured like mist.

“Xiao Qianxue, go in and change. Training starts soon.” Bloo stepped from a side room like a statue walking out of shadow.

He wore a white tank and black trousers; bronze skin gleamed like sunlit metal, muscle lines clean as carved waves.

His face stayed cool and sharp; sea-blue hair caught the light like deep water. Any woman here would have her heart pulled like a magnet.

“Bloo, you’re so handsome!” Hoshina’s voice rang like a bell; one victim had already fallen.

Xiao Qianxue glanced twice, then slipped into the room Bloo had left, moving like a fox into brush.

On the rack hung a black combat suit, midnight stitched with armor at every joint like scales on a dragon.

She put it on; the fabric hugged her like a second skin, not a seam wrong, as if tailored by fate.

“Yo, Xiao Qianxue, you finally came out. I’ve been waiting to see you in the suit I made.” Hoshina’s voice chimed, while Bloo had vanished like smoke.

“This was made for me?”

“Of course. Only took a few minutes.” Her smile curved wicked, like sugar hiding pepper. “It’ll stop certain bullets, so you won’t bleed out in training.”

“Bleed out...” The thought flared hot; if this pink virtual beauty were real, Xiao Qianxue would grab those cheeks and stretch them like dough.

Sensing the spark, Hoshina drifted close like a petal on wind. “It still hurts to get hit, though. Shouldn’t leave scars.”

She hovered beside Xiao Qianxue, who was gathering gold hair into a small knot like a sun tied tight. “That hairstyle doesn’t suit you. Pigtails are cuter,” she teased, voice sugar with a bite.

“Shut up!!!” The Little Loli puffed her cheeks into two steamed buns; with the knot on top, it made three lucky buns.

The bun style was cute, but compared to pigtails, it lacked a little breeze.

“Hmph!” She spun and headed for yesterday’s shooting range, steps crisp like drumbeats.

“So quick to pout. Still adorable,” Hoshina murmured, pink tongue teasing her lip like a cherry, then floated after her like a kite.

Bloo stood there with two ordinary pistols, spinning them like twin swallows playing in the air.

Xiao Qianxue stepped up and took the Eternal Twin Stars, loading the magazine with familiar, swift clicks like rain on tiles.

“Hoshina, give her the rundown. Saying all this bores me.”

You’ve said plenty today. Hoshina nodded and drifted to center stage; her hands spread, and a huge virtual screen rose behind her like a dawn.

“Gun-fu,” she said, voice clear as glass, “isn’t normal shooting. It’s steel and body weaving like wind and blade, forged by deep familiarity with guns and uncommon movement.”

“Style splits by the shooter’s flavor.” She raised four fingers like signposts. “Quickdraw Gun-Fu, Gun-Fu Alpha, Gun-Fu Beta, and Gun-Fu Gamma.”

“Quickdraw is speed—like lightning over a plain. You rip the gun out, lay suppressive fire like a storm, then rush in.”

“You fight half shooting, half grappling, using the butt like a hidden knife. Pistols are the main tool.”

“Sounds like it suits me.” Curiosity flickered in Xiao Qianxue’s eyes like sparks catching tinder.

“Alpha isn’t about suppressing.” Hoshina’s tone turned fine as a scalpel. “You judge movement like reading currents, then use footwork and positioning to slip attacks.”

“You shoot effectively, cutting off every possible angle like closing doors in a hall.”

“You strike first on pre-read threats. But close combat’s weak.”

“I do trust your accuracy,” she added, head tilting toward Bloo like a cat at a window, “but fast enemies are wolves in tall grass.”

“Go on, go on! My close combat… it was… it was…” Frustration rose first like heat, then clarity hit cold; she’d relied on the Bloodgod Claw and a tough body to crush.

She remembered the blue-caped youth, and that memory pressed down like a mountain.

“Beta and Gamma,” Hoshina continued, voice steady as a metronome. “Beta are near-combat monsters. When the enemy blinks, they draw from anywhere on the body and kill in one shot.”

“They’re masters of concealed draw, carry large-caliber pistols like thunder in a fist.”

“Gamma are snipers. Agile, trap-savvy, eyes like hawks, hands like ice.”

She wrapped it up with a neat bow. “Based on yesterday, you’re half Quickdraw, half Alpha.”

“If you master Quickdraw until it sings, you can evolve toward Beta. Sniper Gun-Fu—forget it for now.”

“Can we start?” Bloo’s voice came cool and impatient, like steel tapping stone.

“Of course, Bloo!” Hoshina answered too fast, like a girl caught blinking. She turned to Xiao Qianxue, star-bright. “Watch close. I designed this set of Gun-Fu for you. Made Bloo practice last night.”

The range filled with humanoid models, each holding a real gun that glinted like teeth.

“Don’t doubt their aim,” Hoshina chimed. “Every one’s a marksman.”

“Three, two, one… begin.” The mechanical voice spread like cold rain from four corners.

Muzzles flared; the models opened fire, their rounds a swarm of hornets. Bloo moved within the limits of Xiao Qianxue’s physique, both pistols spitting flame like twin comets.

Bullets clinked in the air, metal on metal, sparks like fireflies crossing paths.

In Xiao Qianxue’s dynamic sight, Bloo’s rounds didn’t just deflect; they rode incoming bullets like stepping stones, accelerating toward the targets.

Bang, bang. The models shifted fast like shadows, but his shots drilled one cleanly, even inside that storm of lead.

Bloo tucked into a forward flip, body folding like a swallow diving, and slipped a hail of rounds by a hair’s width.

He closed on them like a wave rolling to shore. One model lunged at impossible speed, firing at him midair like a hawk striking.

“Watch out!” Xiao Qianxue’s shout burst first like thunder. Bloo’s face didn’t even ripple.

He slid his left pistol into the bullet’s path like setting a shield. The round slammed the gun’s body; he tilted the barrel a breath, changing the angle like a mirror catching sun.

The bullet curled up, struck an incoming round midair with a sharp spark, then flew back and killed the charging model like fate reversed.

He hit the ground and launched, impossibly fast, straight at another model like a spear.

He smashed the ruined left pistol into its head; metal met polymer with a crack like splitting wood.

His left hand twitched; a Magnum bloomed there like thunder in his palm. “Boom!!!” The shot roared, and two model heads shattered like clay pots.

“Showtime.” Bloo’s mouth tipped up, a blade of a smile. The remaining models kept firing; their resolve stayed cold as iron.

He moved like a dancer in a storm, a spin here, a sweep there, right hand lifting to shoot incoming rounds out of the air like swatting flies.

A short backstep, smooth as water. The left-hand Magnum whipped and fired—bang!—and two more models dropped like felled trees.

Soon, only Bloo stood, smoke rising from his guns like mist after rain.

“So handsome!”