Zhang Sicong gave Chen Yang a glance, then bowed his head and began to seriously count the number of casings.
The first count made Zhang Sicong's expression turn ugly.
But he didn't believe in superstitions, and counted again, the result was still eighteen.
At this point, Zhang Sicong's face became very hard to look at, it was truly bizarre, there actually were eighteen casings.
"Perhaps... the range wasn't cleaned properly before?" Zhang Sicong hesitated and asked the target recorder.
"How is that possible? After each shooting, the casings are always collected and stored, and they must match the number of bullets distributed!
So it is impossible for there to be any casings not picked up on the range!"
The target recorder said discontentedly, feeling that Zhang Sicong was insulting their work ethic.
Zhang Sicong looked at Chen Yang again, his eyes full of shock, confusion, and bewilderment...
