While Li Qingyu methodically picked off opponents from above, the fighters below decided that the enemies had used firearms. In response, they grabbed their homemade weapons and started firing.
Most of their weapons were pathetic – a pipe stuffed with gunpowder and nails, ignited with a torch. A single-shot musket, nothing more.
The better ones resembled crude pistols where, after each shot, you had to open the breech and manually insert a round. The noise was infernal.
Against the backdrop of all this junk, Li Qingyu's rare shots were drowned out – perfect cover.
He shot without pause. He emptied the magazine – loaded a new one and got back to work. The rifle was perfect: pull the trigger – kill.
With such a machine, skill grew instantly. Each bullet landed more accurately than the previous one.
At first, he mowed down the Chem-Dogs – there were more of them. But noticing that the "Rats" were starting to gain the upper hand, he switched to them. Experience dripped equally from both sides.
When the kill count exceeded twenty, the combatants realized: someone else was killing them.
"Sniper! He's over there!"
One of the scavengers noticed the muzzle flash and pointed towards Li Qingyu.
But before he could finish, a brute severed his arm with a cleaver blow. The man howled. Then the mutant fell on him and smashed his head with a series of blows.
By this time, both sides had lost more than a third of their strength. Morale had collapsed.
The "Rats" were the first to falter. Realizing they were being systematically shot from above, they bolted.
The Chem-Dogs, however, high on drugs, turned into berserkers. They didn't care about bullets, about pain – only to catch and cut.
The flight turned into a slaughter. As long as the formation held, there was a chance, but once the column broke, a nightmare began.
Li Qingyu shot another scavenger, reloaded the magazine, cycled the bolt, and pressed his eye to the scope again.
Only thirty "Rats" remained against eighty Chem-Dogs. He changed his priority – now his targets were the drug addicts.
A shot – and the spine of another was ripped in half. The body fell to pieces.
Li Qingyu was again amazed by the rifle's power, caught the next one – another shot, another corpse. Ten rounds – ten hits. The sniper reloaded the magazine.
As a result, the "Rats" took advantage of the gap in the ring and fled with shouts. The Chem-Dogs scattered in pursuit, maddened by the stimulants.
And then one of their insane leaders, without realizing what he was doing, pressed the activation button for the Chem-swine.
The monster roared, rising. Neither friends nor foes concerned it. It grabbed the nearest unfortunate, crushed him, and slurped his guts with gusto, like noodles.
Li Qingyu surveyed the battlefield: people were scattered all over the warehouse.
"Holy crap!"
Targets were running in all directions. It became much harder to hit them.
"Alright, let's consider this training with moving targets," he grinned.
He looked for those whose trajectories were predictable – and quickly found them.
A "Rat" was running between the shelves, pursued by a brute at full gallop. A straight line – an ideal distance.
Estimating the speed and bullet travel time, Li Qingyu fired three shots. All missed. It was harder with a moving target than it seemed.
He clicked his tongue, aimed a fourth time. The fugitive was exhausted, slowed down. Click – and a hit. The body fell, and the brute immediately brought his cleaver down on the already dead man.
Such a hit brought internal satisfaction. Li Qingyu smirked, shifted his aim to the mutant hovering over his prey.
Bang!
The bullet hit the brute in the thigh and cleanly severed his leg. The behemoth fell with a prolonged howl.
Li Qingyu cycled the bolt, ejected the casing, and aimed again, deciding to finish him off with a shot to the chest. But then an idea struck him: the skill leveled up from "effective actions."
What if he didn't kill immediately, but shot at the limbs? Would the system count separate hits?
He glanced at the panel: rifle proficiency – 58.
Shot to the leg. Bang!
The second leg flew off – the value became 59.
"It works!"
Delight surged through him, and he aimed at the screaming mutant's arm…