Chapter 65: Essential Skills for a Good Coach

Seeing Chen Meng fall silent, Xu Feng assumed he had struck a nerve.

“Don’t lose heart, junior. You’re still young; there will be more opportunities ahead,” Xu Feng consoled him, though the words sounded anything but comforting. After all, Chen Meng was only two years younger than Xu Feng—calling him young seemed more like a subtle jab.

Chen Meng chuckled awkwardly, finding the situation rather amusing. “I never expected your marksmanship to be so accomplished, senior. You’ve mastered recoil control and gun spinning.”

Xu Feng basked in the praise. “To be honest, recoil control and gun spinning aren’t easy skills to learn. These advanced techniques rely on a certain feeling. Take gun spinning, for instance. What is it? It means you can draw your weapon from any angle, making the gun an extension of your hand, even more agile than your own fingers. When I first set out to learn gun spinning, I spent all of my freshman year at the range. Many of my fellow trainees gave up, but I persisted to the end—and I alone mastered it.”

Chen Meng nodded; Xu Feng’s understanding of gun spinning was accurate enough. Having found a topic to boast about, Xu Feng launched into a detailed account of his diligence in mastering recoil control and gun spinning, hoping to impress Yan Ruoxi.

Chen Meng could only listen, resigned.

Fortunately, at that moment, the club’s receptionist approached. She glanced at the trio and said, “If you haven’t pre-booked a coach, you may choose one for today’s session here.”

Since Chen Meng hadn’t left a photo, the receptionist didn’t know he was already one of their range’s instructors.

Chen Meng turned to Yan Ruoxi. “I don’t need to choose a coach. You two can make your selection; I’ll head into the range first.”

Yan Ruoxi nodded and went with Xu Feng to pick their coach.

Chen Meng entered the range through the internal passage, just as he spotted the manager.

“Chen Meng,” the manager called out immediately.

Chen Meng smiled. “What, are you waiting here for me?”

The manager was at a loss for words—of course not, but he didn’t say so. “There are quite a few new instructors today. As manager, I have to check things out. You arrived just in time. You’ll be assigned to the area previously occupied by Coach Lü Guang. As for your prep room, just walk ahead; your name is posted on the door. Go right in.”

“Alright,” Chen Meng replied, heading straight over. He didn’t linger for more conversation—training was about to begin, and he needed to prepare.

Up ahead, he found a room with his name on it. He pushed the door open. Inside, it was simple: a nap bed, a chair, a computer, two sets of instructor uniforms, a training pistol, and some ammunition.

Without wasting words, Chen Meng changed into the uniform. Checking the time, he saw only ten minutes remained before class. He picked up the range’s pistol and tested its feel—it was no different from the trainee’s gun, and he quickly adapted.

Once everything was ready, Chen Meng sat down and reviewed today’s teaching plan and instructional approach. Satisfied, he glanced at the clock—only three minutes left. It was time to greet his students.

Before heading out, he logged into the club’s system via the computer to check his student roster for the morning. Sure enough, Yan Ruoxi and Xu Feng were listed, along with six others. Evidently, his introduction had been compelling—eight trainees had chosen him as their coach.

“Time to go. From today, I’ll be the most dashing instructor.”

Chen Meng murmured, picked up his pistol, and pushed open the room’s door toward the training area.

In the training zone, Yan Ruoxi sat quietly to one side. Xu Feng, meanwhile, had become the center of attention—after all, he was vice president of the sophomore student council at Jiangzhou University. Those who knew his status were eager to befriend him.

“Follow the coach’s instructions and work hard. If you put in the effort, you can master these four advanced shooting techniques,” Xu Feng encouraged the others. Just then, the coach’s door swung open.

Chen Meng, dressed in instructor attire, stepped out. Eight pairs of eyes fixed on him.

“Hello, everyone,” Chen Meng said with a gentle smile. “I’m your coach for today. Allow me to introduce myself: my name is Chen Meng, codename Silver Fox.”

He looked at Yan Ruoxi and Xu Feng. “I didn’t expect you two to actually choose me as your coach. I’ll do my best to guide your marksmanship.”

Xu Feng stared at Chen Meng, mouth agape, his mind blank with shock.

What was happening? How had Chen Meng become an instructor?

The other trainees were equally baffled—this coach was far too young. Was he really, as the range’s introduction claimed, capable of defeating first and second-tier divine beings?

“This can’t be!” Xu Feng finally recovered, his voice stern. “I need to speak to the range manager. This is ridiculous—anyone can pretend to be a coach now?”

Chen Meng responded with a cold smile.

Before Xu Feng could move, and without anyone seeing where Chen Meng’s pistol had come from, seven shots rang out in quick succession. Xu Feng felt a jolt beneath his feet, looked down, and saw seven bullets lying precisely in a fan-shaped pattern, each passing through the same hole, their angles perfectly aligned.

Xu Feng drew a sharp breath, his face flushed crimson.

Such marksmanship—he hadn’t even seen Chen Meng draw his weapon, indicating the use of concealed gun technique. Seven bullets through one hole demonstrated recoil control, and the differing angles revealed gun spinning. That Chen Meng fired before even Xu Feng, a second-tier divine being, could react meant he had mastered quick-draw technique as well.

Yan Ruoxi, however, seemed unsurprised, as if she had known all along that Chen Meng was the new coach, Silver Fox.

“Any further questions?” Chen Meng asked Xu Feng, spinning the pistol in his hand until it vanished from sight—a trick Xu Feng knew he couldn’t replicate.

Perhaps Chen Meng was still just an ordinary man, but Xu Feng realized that in a real fight, Chen Meng’s mastery of gun techniques would pose serious trouble.

Still, as a newly advanced second-tier divine being, Xu Feng wasn’t afraid.

“No. You’re certainly qualified to be a coach,” Xu Feng said coolly, no longer daring to underestimate him.

Chen Meng nodded, then addressed the trainees. “I may be younger than most of you, but there’s a saying: ‘He who excels is teacher.’ If there are no objections, line up. No need for introductions—I don’t need your names. Each of you, show me your marksmanship, and I’ll tailor my teaching accordingly.”

He turned to Xu Feng. “Senior, let’s start with you.”

Xu Feng nodded, choosing his own pistol instead of the club’s, and fired three shots at the target.

He employed both recoil control and gun spinning, but Chen Meng observed that his mastery was far from solid.

Next was Yan Ruoxi—she had grasped recoil control, but was clearly only beginning to understand its intricacies.

Of the other six trainees, three had mastered the basics and were ready for advanced technique, while the remaining three were complete novices.

Chen Meng decided to teach according to their abilities.

“Senior, today you’ll focus on practicing recoil control and gun spinning.”

“Senior sister, keep practicing recoil control. I’ll explain the essentials—my own summary.”

“You three, get more familiar with your firearms today.”

“The last three, I’ll teach you recoil control.”

Instruction proceeded as normal.

Drawing on his experience, Chen Meng offered guidance to each student.

“Excellent—recoil control is all about keeping your hand steady, speed fast, and mind calm.”

“Very accurate, rapid progress.”

“Amazing—it looks textbook. These two shots hit the same point; you managed to control one shot.”

“Yes, that’s it. Imagine the target is your mortal enemy—now you’re faster and more precise.”

…

No matter how each student performed, Chen Meng showered them with praise, believing it essential for a good coach.

Four hours flew by.

Each trainee received dozens of compliments, leaving them brimming with confidence, convinced they were on the verge of becoming gun masters.

“You all have great talent, far better than when I started. But today’s training ends here,” Chen Meng announced. “If you have nothing else, you’re free to leave.”

The trainees looked at Chen Meng, reluctant to part ways.

Yan Ruoxi approached and asked, “How long did it take you to master the four advanced techniques?”

“Four half-days,” Chen Meng replied casually.

Yan Ruoxi couldn’t help but roll her eyes. “And you just said our talent surpasses yours?”

Chen Meng chuckled—senior sister, you’re just too naïve.

At noon, after a simple meal at the range, Chen Meng headed to the exclusive instructor training area in the back, eager to try out some of the hot weapons he’d long wanted to test.