With a slightly hunched back and long beards, McDaoen, wearing a piece of dilapidated snail cloth, staggered between the decaying house and the ruins. He grabbed the sniper rifle in his hand, and was wrapped with many fibers drawn from the sniper cloth, making the sniper rifle look like a steel bar wrapped in construction waste.

As the gunshots came from his ears became clearer, McDonn, who was always hunched over and headed forward with his head down, stopped suddenly, raised his head slightly, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath of air filled with smoke and rotten garbage. His face with obvious sputtering scars couldn't help but twitch slightly, looking like an addict who took a sip of drugs, enjoying the illusory happiness...

From the time he got his first leveraged Winchester M1984 rifle at the age of five, McDonn fell in love with the feeling of shooting the target. From the empty cans placed on the ranch fence to the bottles of different appearances and colors, McDonn could always easily smash those targets. Even the cowboys who fought with wild wolves and cow thieves on the Western Wastelands for many years had to admit that McDonn, who was only seven years old, had surpassed most of them.

Life in the pasture seems leisurely, but in fact it is not as full of pastoral and dreamy poetry as the bystanders see. Especially when the years of grass growing and the livestock slaughter rate cannot reach the balance of income and expenditure, the cowboys hired in the pasture will leave one after another, leaving only empty pockets of ranchers cursing God, and then use the little money left to buy pitiful necessities of life to support the whole family.

The first praise McDaon received in his life came from this - seeing a few brothers and sisters who had not been able to eat meat for a month were scolded by their mother for refusing to eat bland mashed potatoes, McDaon walked out of the house with a gun. When he returned home in the evening, McDaon became a hero warmly welcomed by the whole family. In just one afternoon, McDaon hunted five hares and a pheasant with beautiful feathers. In addition to letting the whole family have a beautiful meal of braised rabbit meat, the pheasant with only beautiful feathers also exchanged a real hunter jacket from a passing tourist.

McDonn, who wore this hunter jacket, began to frequently appear in the wilderness around the ranch. Every time he returned home with his prey, and the enthusiastic hugs of his brothers and sisters, made McDonn feel extremely proud. Even the ranchers who occasionally came to the ranch to have a drink with his father, dedicated the praise to McDonn. So when McDonn won the first place and a full hundred dollars in prize money when he participated in a shooting competition mainly involving cowboys when he was ten years old, no one was surprised.

When McDaon was sixteen, he encountered the first occasion in his life - a sloppy middle-aged man came to the ranch to apply for a cowboy job, and scoffed at McDaon's shooting skills. In order to prove that he had enough ability to despise McDaon's shooting skills, the drunk cowboy snatched the leveraged Winchester M1984 rifle from McDaon's hand and fired a shot at the ranch gate a mile away, ringing the cowbell hanging on the ranch gate.

Faced with everyone's doubts, including McDaon, the drunk middle-aged man shot the cowbell hanging on the ranch gate again. After watching the cowbell fall to the ground, McDaon had his first shooting teacher.

The middle-aged man from the Marine Corps taught McDaun everything he knew. Naturally, the often drunk middle-aged man left the ranch two years later, handed a wrinkled handwritten letter to McDaun.

Already fascinated by shooting, to be precise, McDaon, who was fascinated by the feeling of shooting prey, naturally enlisted in the army with the handwritten letter and became a soldier of the Marine Corps. With his good shooting skills and relatively strong physical fitness he had learned on the ranch, McDaon was selected to the Marine Corps sniper training camp without much effort.

The rigorous sniper training has made McDonald's talent for shooting and hunting increasingly strengthened. So much so that when McDonald first participated in the war, the deputy shooter equipped with McDonald was unwilling to believe that McDonald was a first brother on the battlefield.

The battle that followed seemed unremarkable - he lay down at the scheduled shooting location and waited for the target to come to his door. With his powerful intelligence support and absolute advantages in weapons and equipment, McDaun can always easily achieve a perfect palace collection of snipers.

Repeating such unilateral massacres again and again without any stimulation made McDonn feel extremely depressed. Especially when McDonn saw the combatants under the military contractors receive generous weekly salaries and additional battlefield subsidies, he felt even more difficult to calm down!

On the day after he had finished his service, McDaone calmly accepted his retirement and immediately walked into the office of a military contractor closest to the military camp, finding a brand new job for himself.

In the new working environment, McDaoen felt like a fish in water - evenly matched weapons and equipment and opponents, the generous rewards they could get for every hunt, as well as the photos sent from the United States where his younger brother and sister stood next to a new house or a new car, laughing and giving him a thumbs up, all of which made McDaoen feel happy, as if he was back when he returned home with his prey.

There is no doubt that McDaoen firmly believes that he is a natural hunter and can only rely on hunting to gain respect and praise from the people around him. As for the others...

Good hunters never think too much about unnecessary things!

Slowly exhaling a breath of turbid air from his chest, McDaon slowly opened his eyes, grabbed the high-magnification telescope hanging on his chest, and looked at the battlefield where gunfire came from afar.

Obviously, the poor companions on the battlefield were scared by their fierce prey and could only hide behind relatively strong covers and survive, waiting for their own rescue.

The fierce prey was moving rapidly between the broken walls, showing its creepy fangs to its poor companions from time to time. Judging from the speed of the fierce prey's movement and the frequency of shooting, the physical strength of this prey was obviously much stronger than that of ordinary prey. If it weren't for stopping his poor companions, perhaps he had already been conducting a refreshing massacre and fleeing away, just like the huge wild wolf that he hunted when he was sixteen years old that he had killed three cows?
Chapter completed!