Chapter 26: Strength

"Crack! Cang! Crack! Cang..."

The rhythmic sound of the pistol's body striking the iron target reverberated through the shooting range. John stood firm, his hands holding the pistol with unnerving steadiness, firing shot after shot. As the minutes passed, the pile of spent bullet casings on the ground grew steadily, each shot inching closer to the target's center. His precision was uncanny, almost unnatural.

"How is that even possible? The ten-ring white zone hit every single time!" Hansen exclaimed in disbelief, his eyes widening as he observed the flawless shots.

Joseph, standing off to the side, shot Hansen a knowing smile. He was completely unfazed. The truth was, he was used to this. John's physique was unlike any ordinary person's; recoil simply didn't affect him. It was as if his body had been engineered for perfection.

John, after unloading his last round, discarded the empty magazine without so much as a second thought. The continuous firing had left his wrist unscathed, and the recoil seemed to have little effect on him.

"Joseph," John said with a slight frown, "I think I'd like to try the Desert Eagle. The Beretta just doesn't have the power I need. It's a bit... underwhelming."

Joseph chuckled, unfazed by his boss's request. "Sure, boss. Whatever you say."

Ignoring Hansen's stunned look, Joseph walked over to the long table with John. As John took hold of the Desert Eagle, he casually tossed the box containing the Sand Eagle's magazines onto the table.

"Boss, you've practically mastered shooting already," Joseph said, his eyes following John's careful handling of the massive Desert Eagle. "Given your physical fitness, the recoil of this beast won't faze you much either. Let's see how well you do at the 20-meter target."

John nodded, a smile playing on his lips. He gave the gun a satisfied shake in his hands, testing its weight and balance. "Phew..." he sighed, clearly content with the weapon in his grip.

"Bang! Bang!"

The recoil of the Desert Eagle was even more pronounced than that of the Beretta, but Hansen's jaw nearly hit the floor when he saw John barely flinch. The shots landed precisely, dead center on the target.

It was almost as though John had become one with the weapon. His arm twitched slightly with each shot, but the recoil did nothing to throw him off. Every bullet found its mark with incredible precision. Hansen could only watch in awe, muttering under his breath.

"Abnormal," he cursed quietly, unable to contain his amazement. Turning to Kenny, he said, "This guy's physical fitness is unreal."

Kenny, who had served with Hansen in several missions, laughed lightly at his partner's disbelief. "Our boss? He's a walking superpower. If you've never seen him box, you can't even imagine the kind of strength we're talking about here. You'd only call him a 'freak of nature' if you saw him in action."

Hansen snorted in disbelief. "Natural power? Come on, man, he doesn't look that strong."

Kenny shook his head, knowing full well that Hansen had yet to grasp the extent of John's abilities. "You really don't get it, do you? You don't need to be built like a bodybuilder to be powerful. Just watch how his muscles react when he shoots. His arm's muscles are streamlined but incredibly powerful. The guy hits like a freight train. Joseph told me his punching power rivals that of Delta operatives. He could easily take out most people with just a few blows."

Hansen glanced again at John's arms, now flexing as he reloaded the Desert Eagle. There was an undeniable strength there, even if it didn't scream "muscle-bound powerhouse." His doubt lingered, but it was clear that John's physical prowess was on another level.

"Okay, okay, I get it. He's some kind of freak," Hansen muttered, somewhat begrudgingly. He still couldn't quite wrap his mind around it.

Meanwhile, John had finished firing his last round. He stretched out his arm, allowing the slight tension in his muscles from the recoil to dissipate before heading over to the target. As he approached, he examined the results with mild disappointment. The target was riddled with holes, but a few of the shots were off-center.

"Well, that's enough for today," he muttered to himself. "Not bad for a beginner, but there's still a long way to go."

Joseph walked over and clapped him on the back. "You're doing great, boss. But remember, shooting well doesn't happen overnight. Even though you've got the body for it, it still takes time to master the finer points—adjusting for recoil, calculating ballistics, and finding the feel of each weapon."

John nodded, a flicker of impatience in his eyes. "I get it. I'll keep practicing."

The remainder of the day was spent at the range, with John pushing himself further. By the time the sun began to dip, his shoulders were sore, and his wrist felt the strain of hours of constant shooting. The massive recoil from the Desert Eagle had left its mark, but John didn't mind. The discomfort was temporary, and the satisfaction he felt from improving his skill was worth the pain.

As the group left the Oak Club, John couldn't help but chuckle at Hansen's stunned expression. "What's with the look?" he asked, his voice tinged with amusement.

"You're a monster," Hansen muttered, shaking his head in disbelief.

John grinned, not at all offended. It was a compliment in his book.

The drive to the party that evening was filled with anticipation. John's mind drifted, the excitement of his recent training fading as his thoughts turned to the night ahead. It would be his first real indulgence in the luxuries his new life had to offer—a party organized just for him.

He had always fantasized about this sort of thing in his past life, but now, with the means and opportunities to live out those fantasies, he couldn't help but feel a mix of exhilaration and guilt. There was a part of him, the quiet, introspective part that still harbored the ideals of his past life, that wondered whether this indulgence was a sign of his moral decay. But then again, wasn't life about embracing the pleasures it offered?

As his thoughts swirled, John couldn't help but reflect on the shift in his life. From a small, ordinary citizen in his previous life to a man of wealth and power in this one, he had undergone a transformation. It was something he had never expected but had come to embrace. Now, he was learning to navigate this new world of excess, wealth, and indulgence.

When they finally reached home, he exchanged a quick greeting with Liu Yan before heading straight for the bathroom. He needed to unwind, to relax, to prepare for what lay ahead. The hot water in the bathtub soothed his tense muscles, but his thoughts were still racing.

As he lay in the bath, his mind wandered once again to the party.