Bang! A distant gunshot echoed across the vast plain, followed by a tremendous roar! Two mice huddled together on a large rock were turned into mincemeat by the scorching bullet.
"I detest such vulgar actions in my presence!" Barrett Walker, looking through his sniper scope, saw his masterpiece and trembled with excitement. He never imagined that after a nightmare, he would possess such abilities. The farthest sniper shot in the world is 2475 meters, and with the experience gained from that nightmare, this shot had to be at least 2000 meters, making him one of the top snipers in the world. Unfortunately, without precise measuring tools, he couldn't obtain accurate data.
Could it be that he was reborn? Did the nightmare end with his suicide, and did God take pity on him and bring him back? The silver moonlight filtered through the flawless night sky, casting a mysterious veil over the rugged cliffs, with no peaceful fields, only the thundering waterfalls. The moon was cold, the mountains beautiful, the rocks mysterious, the trees lush, and the water serene, creating a dynamic landscape painting under the night. From the depths of the pool came a crisp and alluring call, the most beautiful celestial sound for a man.
Barrett Walker exclaimed as he awoke from the suffocating nightmare, drenched in sweat, gazing at the familiar scenery. In the distance was a scene of raging battle, while behind him was the roaring waterfall. A top sniper like himself had been assigned to a third-rate location.
At a crucial moment in the attack on the Jazz High School, the melody from below the cliff made it difficult for him to resist. It was more enticing than the explosions on the battlefield. "Come on! We're in the middle of a battle! Miss, can you open up a little more?" A black hole in the concealed large rock revealed the barrel of an XM19025mm sniper rifle, also known as an anti-material sniper rifle or sniper cannon. The unique shape of the barrel would stir the blood of any man, but for a sniper, the deafening noise of the sniper cannon was only wishful thinking on the battlefield. At least Barrett Walker still had enough sense to believe that he hadn't reached the level of a guy who flaunted his masculinity in such a way. Perhaps he would smirk and shout, "To flaunt masculinity, at least one must have the courage to wear underwear on the outside!"
To verify the events experienced in the dream, Barrett Walker fired a shot, and the remnants of the nightmare disappeared. "I truly admire myself. I managed to sleep through such an important simulation test." It was so boring, it started to become painful. "But what does this test have to do with me? I'm just a bystander."
Barrett Walker lay behind a flat rock, caressing the sniper rifle in front of him and imagining it as a goddess. The wonderful touch, cool and yet warm, did not fit the image of a man ready to wreak havoc after being reborn. He shook off his military green T-shirt and stood up. If the hot-tempered instructor saw him tossing aside top-notch defensive equipment, he would surely jump up and curse, "What's wrong with you? Do you still want to graduate? Although it's hot, this is a battlefield. Aren't you usually disciplined? What's wrong with going to mind your own business? Who told you to faint at the sight of blood?"
"Wow! Thank God, there really is a female ghost. Is my romantic encounter really this good? I've been praying to you for eighteen years. If you grant my wish, I will be your most faithful follower and offer a large roasted suckling pig. But it seems you don't eat suckling pigs, you prefer steak, right?"
With Barrett Walker's exceptional 5.3 ultra-high-definition vision, he caught a glimpse of a stunning, rosy complexion that set ablaze the restless flame that had been lonely for over a decade.
"Should I go down or not? They say this level is crucial and requires a great sniper to guard it, and I am that sniper. Please! Without this 'great' sniper, those snobbish kids from the Jazz School would probably slow down their attack. That way, our side can hold out a little longer, and your credits would be a bit higher."
"Alright, you've convinced me. But Jenny Antell only promised you that if you passed the simulation test smoothly and had a chance to enter the God of War School, she would let you hold hands, of course, only holding hands. Do you still expect something more? What's in front of you is a sumptuous feast, not just Jenny Antell's little dish of Northeastern radish."
"Brother, don't put all your eggs in one basket. Try dying a few times in several baskets, but make sure you die thoroughly! Who knows if it's thorough, it depends on how much God favors you."
"Brother, women, what do you really want to choose? They say women are like clothes, and brothers are like limbs. Looking back, I actually stumbled through eighteen years of nakedness! Okay! Even though I'm wearing a T-shirt on the battlefield today, the mountain breeze here is a bit chilly. I should go put on some clothes."
Barrett Walker kicked aside the defensive gear lying nearby, lay down on the edge of the cliff, and stared blankly at the woman frolicking in the water.
With a gentle touch and a perfect figure, every muscle was distinct, as if carved from granite. If one were to carefully examine it for mathematical problems, even the most strict and traditional professors and experts would have to admit, "What's the point of the golden ratio? Does this old flesh exude wisdom?" Perhaps they would find other problems to nitpick, disdainfully pursing their lips, "Well, I admit I envy his physique, but this kid's face is nothing special, just average."
Exquisite features, one couldn't help but marvel at the miracle of creation. Why did you have to leave heaven in such a hurry? Did the departing plane have to take off early, apart from being delayed, causing you to look so ordinary?
This was the rule of perfection. Despite having flaws, these flaws were at two extremes. Either they exalted the status of the work of art infinitely, known as the beauty of flaws passed down by word of mouth, or they simply highlighted the remaining perfection. These were the grounds on which others attacked: the office rule, which was about destruction, but Barrett Walker only made people feel ordinary.
Barrett Walker puffed out his chest, took a deep breath, and immediately calmed down his agitated emotions. Just the thought of facing that unknown beauty made his legs tremble. After all, he didn't like being in crowded places. But adding that beautiful woman, it would only be the two of them, not a crowd. But besides being solitary, he would stutter when speaking to a beautiful woman! He sighed dejectedly, lay on the large rock, and gazed at the unusually smooth skin shimmering in the dark night. A demon lurked in his heart.
"She's waving at me. Come on! For a long life, be a good man, not just a boy." Barrett Walker exclaimed, stood up, and threw his T-shirt aside in a thoughtful manner. If Picasso were still alive, there probably wouldn't be any need for ancient Greek thinkers. This was the beauty of muscles.
A well-proportioned upper body, each muscle defined like granite, every curve chiseled to perfection. If someone were to closely examine it for mathematical problems, even the most strict and traditional professors and experts would have to admit, "What's the point of the golden ratio? Does this old flesh exude wisdom?" Perhaps they would find other problems to nitpick, disdainfully pursing their lips, "Well, I admit I envy his physique, but this kid's face is nothing special, just average."
Exquisite features, one couldn't help but marvel at the miracle of creation. Why did you have to leave heaven in such a hurry? Did the departing plane have to take off early, apart from being delayed, causing you to look so ordinary?
This was the rule of perfection. Despite having flaws, these flaws were at two extremes. Either they exalted the status of the work of art infinitely, known as the beauty of flaws passed down by word of mouth, or they simply highlighted the remaining perfection. These were the grounds on which others attacked: the office rule, which was about destruction, but Barrett Walker only made people feel ordinary.
Barrett Walker puffed out his chest, took a deep breath, and immediately calmed down his agitated emotions. Just the thought of facing that unknown beauty made his legs tremble. After all, he didn't like being in crowded places. But adding that beautiful woman, it would only be the two of them, not a crowd. But besides being solitary, he would stutter when speaking to a beautiful woman! He sighed dejectedly, lay on the large rock, and gazed at the unusually smooth skin shimmering in the dark night. A demon lurked in his heart.
"She's waving at me. Come on! For a long life, be a good man, not just a boy." Barrett Walker exclaimed, stood up, and threw his T-shirt aside in a thoughtful manner. If Picasso were still alive, there probably wouldn't be any need for ancient Greek thinkers. This was the beauty of muscles.
A well-proportioned upper body, each muscle defined like granite, every curve chiseled to perfection. If someone were to closely examine it for mathematical problems, even the most strict and traditional professors and experts would have to admit, "What's the point of the golden ratio? Does this old flesh exude wisdom?" Perhaps they would find other problems to nitpick, disdainfully pursing their lips, "Well, I admit I envy his physique, but this kid's face is nothing special, just average."
Exquisite features, one couldn't help but marvel at the miracle of creation. Why did you have to leave heaven in such a hurry? Did the departing plane have to take off early, apart from being delayed, causing you to look so ordinary?
This was the rule of perfection. Despite having flaws, these flaws were at two extremes. Either they exalted the status of the work of art infinitely, known as the beauty of flaws passed down by word of mouth, or they simply highlighted the remaining perfection. These were the grounds on which others attacked: the office rule, which was about destruction, but Barrett Walker only made people feel ordinary.
Barrett Walker puffed out his chest, took a deep breath, and immediately calmed down his agitated emotions. Just the thought of facing that unknown beauty made his legs tremble. After all, he didn't like being in crowded places. But adding that beautiful woman, it would only be the two of them, not a crowd. But besides being solitary, he would stutter when speaking to a beautiful woman! He sighed dejectedly, lay on the large rock, and gazed at the unusually smooth skin shimmering in the dark night. A demon lurked in his heart.
"She's waving at me. Come on! For a long life, be a good man, not just a boy." Barrett Walker exclaimed, stood up, and threw his T-shirt aside in a thoughtful manner. If Picasso were still alive, there probably wouldn't be any need for ancient Greek thinkers. This was the beauty of muscles.
Barrett Walker stood on a high cliff, bare-chested, with the mountain wind blowing vigorously in his face. He struck a nonchalant posture, intending to perform a graceful 360-degree somersault, then rest in mid-air for a minute before plunging into the water below. However, as he contemplated the leap from such a height, a rapid succession of dreamlike images flashed through his mind, reminding him that jumping would mean another twist of fate. The familiar scenes from his dreams emerged vividly, blurring the line between dream and reality. Reflecting on everything that had transpired in his dreams, Barrett Walker suddenly froze, his uninhibited recklessness and madness giving way to a vague confusion in his dark eyes. He wondered if it was all real, or why it felt so vivid. As he recalled the outcome of not jumping, he realized that adhering to convention and mediocrity would likely spell disaster for his restless heart. To humiliate himself, Calvin Green had even gone to the extent of obtaining the assessment layout for the Twenty-One Public High School, and had deployed a large force of fifteen people to this remote location just to thwart him. That was truly thinking highly of oneself!
Even more shameless was the deliberate flaunting of his accomplishment in front of himself. Jenny Antell paid no attention to his helplessness and promptly announced their breakup on the spot. Of course, it wasn't really a breakup, just that she had dumped him. What could he do but lament in vain? Even with a grandfather like a god of war, he was nothing more than a stifling mountain weighing heavily on his heart, even heavier than the oppression in old China before liberation.
It seemed that the scenes from his dreams had provided him with an excuse to go down, at least to change the reality of the dream scenes. But looking at that sumptuous feast, any normal man would have an irresistible urge to devour it all, without wasting a single morsel! So what if he was a deserter? He fled for the sake of his happy life.
"Beauty, I'm here!" The planned 360-degree somersault was unsuccessful; all that followed was a loud splash of towering waves, and then a scream resembling that of a slaughtered pig.