Barrett had faced Flesh Monsters on the battlefield and had killed more than fifty enemies in total, but even now, he couldn't help but feel nervous.

"Margaret hit the target! Two points!"

"Barrett missed!"

These two announcements revealed the answer, allowing everyone to let out a long breath of relief, while Barrett was left feeling rather helpless and somewhat dejected.

Even Lance couldn't help but smile wryly.

He had initially thought that having both of them participate would ensure success, but he hadn't expected the two generals to be like the dragon and phoenix.

But the result was clear, and even if he didn't want to admit it, he had to.

"I declare!" Lance stood between the two and raised one of Margaret's hands, "The winner is Margaret!"

This wasn't really an official competition, just an impromptu one, so there wasn't much formality. Anyway, once the result was decided, it was over.

The soldiers who had gathered around to watch went back to what they were doing.

However, it was foreseeable that the training intensity would undoubtedly increase again; there was no need for Lance to issue any orders, as those below him would naturally turn their shame into motivation.

"In any competition, there are winners and losers. If you lost this time, train hard and strive to win next time," Lance stepped forward and patted the young man on the shoulder, smiling as he comforted him, "When this gun was designed, it didn't consider maintaining accuracy over this distance. I can't hit a target 150 yards away either. You've done well, so don't put pressure on yourself."

"Mm!" Barrett agreed but still seemed to have it on his mind.

It's normal; if you're young and not competitive, can you call yourself young?

Having fighting spirit is what matters.

On the other side, Margaret didn't feel the joy of victory; instead, she was equally puzzled.

She was sure she "saw" the bullet miss the target, so why did it end up hitting?

Was what she saw just an illusion?

This reminded her of the shooting competition at the Bastia celebration, making her already pale face look even worse. 𝚏𝕣𝐞𝗲𝐰𝕖𝐛𝐧𝕠𝕧𝚎𝚕.𝐜𝚘𝗺

"Let's go."

A voice pulled Margaret's attention back to reality. After looking around, she realized the crowd had dispersed, leaving only Lance's back.

Margaret hurried to catch up with Lance, but she didn't forget what had happened just now, "What were you explaining earlier?"

When Lance mentioned this, his expression became slightly serious as he began to explain a different side of this world to her.

Earlier, Lance had felt the spiritual fluctuations that erupted the instant Margaret fired, and he had pretty much confirmed one thing.

Margaret possessed an Extraordinary Talent, and that inspiration was quite strong.

Lawrence, her father, was truly negligent for not cultivating her talent at all.

"So it's as if I lost too." Margaret couldn't help but recall the anomalies from earlier as she heard this.

She didn't hide what she experienced in order to win the competition; she openly shared what had happened at the time.

"At that moment, I felt like I missed, but when I came to, I had actually hit..."

Lance listened to Margaret's explanation, seemingly having figured something out.

Even he couldn't influence a flying bullet with physical means, so there was only one answer: Margaret's will was contending with physical laws and correcting the bullet's trajectory.

Using pure will to alter a bullet's path, could this be the legendary Gun Dueling Skill?

"Other musketeers, no matter how confident, still have to rely on the whims of the Goddess of Fortune, but your bullets can change trajectory according to your will. You've taken control of your destiny."

"So that's how it is!" Margaret looked delighted and didn't doubt Lance's hypothesis. She clearly didn't reject this notion; instead, she became even more curious about these mystical powers and urged, "Quick, tell me about these Transcendents."

"You think it's all fun and games?" Lance sneered as he introduced the darker side of Supernatural Powers.

Essentially, these Transcendent Rituals always involved scenes of cruel bloodshed, regardless of how they were packaged, and always required some kind of price.

The danger of falling into corruption was like a noose around every Transcendent's neck, occasionally tightening, but no one knew when it might hang them.

But all of this was still novel to Margaret.

She had been suppressed by Lawrence in Bastia, and now, here, she felt freed from those constraints, her curiosity burning uncontrollably, yearning for more information about this world.

Hearing Lance's warning, Margaret couldn't help but recall a scene she once witnessed, which she then shared.

Fortunately for her, being from Bastia, this place was on the border of the Empire, a region dealing with Barbarian Tribes, so the mindset and style were rougher.

If this had been in the interior regions, where the Church forces had deeper control, hearing what Lance said, their first reaction might have been that she was possessed by a Demon.

Upon hearing her words, Lance's expression grew even more somber.

She could actually glimpse twisted Flesh... the power of that old ancestor guy had extended to Bastia?

"You're not wrong. This is indeed a sign of losing control. Next time you encounter a similar situation, remember to stay true to yourself and don't let your mind run wild."

After some hesitation, Lance still chose not to inform her about the matters behind the evil cult and what lay beneath Hamlet.

The higher the inspiration, the easier it is to lose control; sometimes knowing too much is not a good thing.

"Let's go, there's time to talk about these things later." Lance quickened his pace, not intending to continue the conversation.

"Where to?"

"Didn't you want a new gun? Then come with me."

Lance was one to honor his bets; Margaret, who managed to get some benefits from him, was truly an exception.

Not even the old ancestor could take advantage of Lance; you're even better than the old ancestor!

Sure enough, this subject easily diverted Margaret's attention.

Under Lance's guidance, they arrived at the weapon workshop, where he showed her the musket production in Hamlet and briefly introduced the improvements in Hamlet's new-style muskets.

She had already seen things like bayonets and fixed ammunition, but Lance didn't disclose much about the improvements in firing powder, merely mentioning it in passing.

In other areas, Hamlet didn't stand out, unable even to establish a glass factory, but it did have a complete assembly line for manufacturing guns and cannons.

With the craftsmen hired from Totnes as the backbone, they were supplemented by a large number of apprentices.

Driven by the principles of standardization and division of labor, apprentices didn't need to learn the entire process, just a part of it, which naturally simplified things greatly.

And the money Lance poured in was a sizable amount; even if they had nothing else, they had to hold onto the gun barrels, even if it meant selling pots and pans.

"Go fetch a new gun and a matching bayonet, as well as a standard ammunition supply."

The staff quickly retrieved a new gun wrapped in oil paper from the warehouse, along with a bayonet sheathed in leather, and ammunition neatly arranged in a carton.

Just as Margaret was about to reach out, she was stopped, "Wait, I need to complete the records."

"Huh?" Margaret didn't know there were so many rules, so she glanced at Lance.

"Every weapon produced in Hamlet has a serial number. Based on this number, you can find out who made it, and after registration, you can trace when, why, and who brought it out of storage," Lance explained briefly, indicating that while Hamlet developed muskets, the management was equally stringent.

Otherwise, why would he go to such trouble to come to the workshop? Because after the guns enter the warehouse, the procedures become more cumbersome.

The warehouse keepers didn't have keys, and two different people held the locks, requiring several steps to retrieve lethal weapons like guns and ammunition.

This wasn't a matter of making things difficult for no reason; many seemingly unnecessary procedures were added only after paying a price, and Lance took a proactive approach to avoid many unnecessary tragedies.

Once the staff completed their checks and recorded the serial numbers of both items, Lance signed his name, thus completing the process.

"Take it, it's yours now."

Because of the need for maintenance, these new guns, fresh from the warehouse, had a strong smell of oil, which wasn't pleasant.

However, Margaret didn't mind at all; she was even eager to play with it.

Seeing her like this, Lance found it somewhat amusing; a real-power Baron's daughter, excited over something like this.