Gao Guang really couldn't understand how a person who combined strength and speed, moving with utmost quickness, couldn't shoot accurately.
Even if he didn't have much talent and couldn't become a top marksman, that was easy to understand, but to practice shooting to the level of an ordinary person, that shouldn't be a problem, should it?
So now he needed to figure out what Fang Zhenwu meant by his shooting being terrible.
"When you shoot targets with a rifle, let's say at two hundred meters, how many rings can you hit with ten bullets?"
Fang Zhenwu thought for a moment, and said somewhat embarrassedly, "It's hard to say, there might be one bullet that gets a perfect ten, and the next one might miss the target entirely. The rough average should be around thirty or forty rings, I guess."
Hitting thirty or forty rings on a two hundred meter target was indeed below average, but it wasn't the worst.
"What about a hundred meters?"
"Uh, still around thirty or forty rings, I guess."