Chapter Sixty-One: The Drill Field of the Patrol Battalion

The Patrol Camp was stationed southeast of the county town, numbering a thousand men. Like most of the Green Standard Army under the Manchu regime, the Patrol Camp in Penglai was rotten to the core. Of the thousand men, only about three hundred were actually recruited—most being opium addicts, the old, the weak, or the infirm, merely to make up the numbers. That was why Mr. Liu would rather escort prisoners with constables than seek help from the Patrol Camp.

Though the Penglai Patrol Camp had little combat ability, its equipment was surprisingly good. Its proximity to the provincial capital allowed it to benefit from the Qilu Machinery Bureau, so all its rifles were the efficient Kuali model, with a monthly supply of training ammunition.

Yet, the bullets were rarely used for training; most were sold by the officers to players. Players in Penglai could purchase bullets from foreign firms, or directly from the Patrol Camp. Bullets from the foreign firm cost twenty copper coins apiece, while those from the Patrol Camp were only fifteen—though no player had discovered this yet.

The Patrol Camp’s bullets fit only 8mm rifles, such as the Austrian Mannlicher, or China’s own Kuali rifle. For Chen Hao, who could use any caliber for marksmanship practice, the Patrol Camp’s range was a convenient resource. Despite infrequent shooting drills, the range had accumulated a fair number of spent casings over time.

Chen Hao approached Captain Zhong Wenhai of the Patrol Camp, and after gifting him five silver dollars, was permitted to practice at the range. Another two silver dollars bought him the right to use a Kuali rifle for practice, and a soldier was assigned to escort him to the armory.

Inside, hundreds of Kuali rifles were lined up, with nearly a hundred crates of ammunition. Most of the rifles were standard models; only a tenth were premium. Chen Hao selected a premium Kuali and spent three silver dollars to buy twenty rounds from the logistics officer.

It was impossible to practice shooting without buying any bullets; purchasing twenty rounds would help establish a mutually beneficial relationship with the logistics officer. Shooting practice could yield up to thirty points in marksmanship attributes, and since Chen Hao planned to spend a lot of time at the range, the officer’s support would make things much smoother.

Take, for instance, the issue of rifle wear. The reloaded rounds Chen Hao used were harsh on firearms, so he was reluctant to use his own rifle for practice. With hundreds of rifles available in the Camp’s armory, he could swap rifles every two thousand shots, ensuring that, on the surface, none would show excessive wear. As long as the logistics officer wasn’t too particular, he could return the rifle in kind and avoid damaging his own.

Chen Hao knew beforehand that bribing Captain Zhong Yuanshan would grant him access to the range, but he hadn’t been certain about using the Camp’s rifles. When his plan succeeded, he was overjoyed and made his way quickly to the range behind the hill.

The range was overgrown with waist-high bluestem, a clear sign that it hadn’t been used in ages. At fifty meters, he set up a target and spent more than ten minutes searching through the grass, collecting over a hundred 8mm casings.

From his indigo cloth satchel, Chen Hao took out a can of corn kernels, tossed in the casings for polishing, and began reloading. With his basic reloading skill, he could reload five rounds per minute with only a fifty percent success rate. In an hour, he could produce 150 usable rounds, but at the cost of double the materials.

After an hour, he’d finished reloading all the casings. He loaded five reloaded rounds into the Kuali rifle’s chamber, raised the rifle, aimed at the target fifty meters away, pulled back the bolt, and squeezed the trigger.

The Kuali rifle was China’s first domestically designed and manufactured repeating rifle, integrating the strengths and weaknesses of the Mannlicher, the Xinli, and the Nansha models. Its magazine was a fixed vertical feed type, and the bolt a straight-pull design. Developed by the Jiangnan Arsenal and mass-produced by the Qilu Machinery Bureau, it was a popular choice among players in Shandong.

The premium Kuali in Chen Hao’s hands was brand new, a pleasure to use. But after firing two thousand reloaded rounds, even this rifle would be nearly ruined. He didn’t care in the least—the rifle belonged to the Patrol Camp, and no matter how well he treated it, they would never gift him one.

It took Chen Hao an hour to reload 150 rounds, but only five minutes to shoot them all. After firing the last shot, he didn’t bother to check his score and went back to scavenging for more usable casings in the grass.

Four hours later, Chen Hao received a system notification: “Player Chen Baxian, through relentless target practice, your marksmanship attribute has increased by 1 point.”

Only then did Chen Hao realize he’d fired 400 rounds—his third attribute point gained from shooting. To earn a fourth would require even more ammunition.

In his usual leveling party, only the pale demon had reached level 10; the others hadn’t. Since there were only six in the group, Chen Hao didn’t want to settle for less. Though repeatedly shooting and reloading rounds was tedious, he didn’t consider it a waste—after all, each entry into the range cost him ten silver dollars.

When his character began to feel drowsy, his reloading success rate dropped, and his focus dulled, Chen Hao finally stopped. He had spent ten hours at the range, fired 1,300 rounds, and raised his marksmanship attribute by another point, bringing it to 15.

Inspecting the rifle, he found the Kuali’s chamber blackened—the black powder in his reloads was clearly rough on the gun. This made him uneasy; if the logistics officer demanded compensation when he returned the rifle, he might lose all his silver, as a premium Kuali was worth at least fifty.

When he reached the armory, he found Officer Wu, the quartermaster, waiting with a sour expression. Chen Hao approached with a broad smile, saying, “Officer Wu, I’m done practicing for today. Thank you for your assistance.”

Officer Wu snorted coldly. “Chen Baxian, if you were only using twenty rounds, why did you spend so long at the range?”

Chen Hao’s heart skipped a beat—he feared Wu had discovered his reloading. He quickly produced a silver dollar, handing it over with a sheepish grin. “Sir, it’s my first time with a rifle, so I was a bit clumsy…”

Wu’s expression softened as he accepted the coin, blowing on it before continuing unhurriedly, “Chen Baxian, you can’t hope to become a marksman if you’re stingy with ammunition. Twenty rounds a day is nowhere near enough. If you want to continue practicing tomorrow, you’ll need at least two hundred rounds, understand?”

Realization dawned—Wu hadn’t uncovered his secret, but simply thought he wasn’t buying enough bullets. Still, demanding two hundred rounds a day—thirty silver dollars’ worth—seemed excessive.

Chen Hao had just over sixty silver dollars left, fifty of which was set aside for his “keep.” If he spent thirty a day on official bullets, added in the five for bribing Zhong Wenhai, plus the cost of black powder and mercury fulminate, he’d be broke after a single day’s practice.

Seeing Chen Hao’s troubled expression, Wu sneered, “If it’s only twenty rounds a day, you’re just wasting a good rifle. Don’t bother coming tomorrow.”