A two hundred-pound hard bow, unless you stand several hundred meters away, is a target-killer; no target can withstand a single arrow.
But the stronghold is only about two or three hundred meters wide. Thus, Chen Fan and Zhang Ren had to take the targets out of the stronghold.
Gu Ze hesitated for a moment but ultimately followed.
He needed to see it with his own eyes to believe it.
Once outside the stronghold, they saw nothing but overgrown weeds, with no wind at all in the air, dead silent.
Chen Fan placed the target about five or six hundred meters away, then ran back, positioning his left foot forward, right foot behind, raised the longbow, aimed at the heart of the target, and slowly drew the bowstring.
Gu Ze looked at Chen Fan, then at Zhang Ren's serious face, and finally looked towards the distance.
What a joke, the target, to him, was just a tiny black dot, could they really aim and hit it?
