If Dismas had just tried two shots starting from the ten-yard target earlier, with his ability, even if his score was slightly off, he wouldn't have missed the target. After getting familiar with the new gun, there would have been a chance to catch up.

But Dismas decided to push to the limit distance directly, cutting off his own retreat, not to mention he was drunk and using a new gun, showing complete disdain for Margaret, leading to the current situation, which left Lance speechless.

However, he was originally on vacation, having a bit of alcohol wasn't a big deal, but Lance suddenly pulled him to save the day, catching him completely unprepared.

Lance didn't want the situation to fall apart. After all, Margaret hitting the target was like a slap on Lance's face, so he immediately helped Dismas to smooth over his earlier mistake.

"Did you see that? This is the coach warning you. There are capable people everywhere in this world; don't get complacent after a bit of success, because there will always be someone stronger than you.

In training and on the field, a mistake might just make you a laughingstock, but on the battlefield, enemies won't give you a second chance. Whether it's an injury or death, the consequences are unbearable."

Clearly an embarrassing scene of failure turned into a lively, profound lesson because of Lance.

The soldiers seemed to awaken momentarily.

So it was Coach Dismas demonstrating mistakes to teach us.

He's really something, I'm dying here...

Margaret stood on the field feeling somewhat bewildered, wondering what was going on?

"Alright, alright! Let's continue with the match." Lance redirected everyone's attention, preventing things from getting off track.

As he spoke, Lance raised his hand to pat Barrett's shoulder as a signal, "Go ahead."

Barrett took a deep breath and stepped forward.

He's also a gun enthusiast and could already see that the opponent is no ordinary contender from earlier.

But he himself was no less impressive.

Margaret was more accustomed to using long guns; her pistol skills were average. If Dismas hadn't shot himself in the foot, it's hard to say what the outcome would have been.

And now the major competition between Margaret and Barrett began.

The intensity of the competition between them was incomparable to before; it was a full-throttle confrontation.

Both of their abilities were incredibly strong, and the thrilling match, closely contested score had the onlookers forget about the earlier farce.

"One hundred fifty yards!"

When the target was pushed to one hundred fifty yards, it actually exceeded the shooting range of a musket, as the naked eye couldn't even see the bullseye.

Positioning in line and firing at a hundred fifty yards actually only works against unarmored targets, and at that point, precision isn't needed; everything relies on density.

Then they could utilize the distance to shoot another round, at this point, the enemies would have charged within one hundred yards, primarily to give a chance for the second and third wave of bullet barrage damage.

In actual combat, doing this is simply greedy for damage.

But now they're competing in precision, and this hundred fifty yards is completely an impossible task; even Lance doesn't have confidence.

Seeming to know this shot would decide the winner, both appeared very solemn, holding their guns in aim for quite a while without firing.

The crowd couldn't help but hold their breath, as if their very breathing could sway the lead bullets and affect precision.

Margaret kept adjusting her condition; this opponent made her feel unprecedented pressure, but she must win the match!

Her focus was intensely concentrated, Margaret's mind seemed blank at that moment, an odd force seemed to guide her... her will extended to the gun in her hand, she could even feel the packed gunpowder and the bullet.

She didn't know why she pulled the trigger at that very moment; even Margaret herself was a bit confused.

But the spark from the flint struck on the chamber, instantly igniting the gunpowder in the barrel, and the expanding gas propelled the lead bullet out.

The entire process unfolded in her mind in an unprecedented form.

But it wasn't over; her consciousness seemed to transform into that bullet, flying out of the gun barrel, the surrounding scene becoming blurred, yet that distant, previously indistinct target became increasingly clear in her eyes.

No, it should be approaching...

But at that moment, her "body" uncontrollably veered.

Her consciousness clearly sensed that at this rate, it would miss the target!

Margaret desperately fought against it, but at that moment, a shot rang out beside her, snapping her consciousness back instantly.

When she came to, Margaret's first reaction wasn't focused on the battle but was instead heavy gasping, as intense pain radiated through her brain, her blood vessels and nerves seemed to be tugging, fatigue unprecedentedly spread from deep within, leaving her lips pale as if she had overextended herself.

Finally, both finished shooting, and the onlookers couldn't help but exclaim, as if their hearts had flown out with the shots.

The chaotic breaths seemed heavy, like gamblers nervously awaiting the outcome.

No one paid attention to the slightly strange Margaret, but Lance walked over with a solemn expression to greet her.

"Are you okay?"

Margaret slightly waved her hand to indicate she was alright.

But Lance still reached out and patted her lightly, activating Bless to refresh her state.

An inexplicable warm stream suppressed the oddity, and Margaret finally looked up at him with slight confusion.

"I'll explain later."

Without saying much more, Lance directed his gaze forward, where people hurried to check the targets, waiting for the results.