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"From fifty meters away, I think I can empty all five magazines!"
Wesley spoke with the confidence of a young colt unafraid of a tiger.
"If you can even get through one magazine," Carlos replied calmly, "I'll consider your training during this period extremely effective. Far beyond expectations."
Carlos sighed and said no more. He focused and entered assassin bloodline mode.
Talking was meaningless.
Broken bones were the best lesson.
Only by personally experiencing despair could Wesley truly understand Morin's strength-and his own level.
That was the reason Carlos agreed to this gamble in the first place.
Wesley's progress was fast.
But compared to true Assassin Masters, his current level was still exactly that.
Before they had even taught things like curved shooting or long-distance sniping, Carlos had already noticed Wesley starting to get carried away.
Which was normal.
If a spirited youth never got carried away, could he still be called young?
Calmness under pressure.
A stable mindset.
Order in chaos.
Those things came later.
That was why sayings like "thirty to stand firm" existed.
Why people said "a baby-faced man can't be trusted."
Who didn't go through a rebellious phase?
Carlos understood Wesley's state.
And he knew what worked.
Preaching was useless.
Or rather, it worked very little.
Just like school.
Everyone knew studying was useful. Everyone knew it affected the future.
Parents said it. Teachers said it. Relatives said it.
And yet?
People still played when they shouldn't and didn't study when they should.
Then came college. Then society.
Only after comparing themselves to others did something feel wrong.
"Why can't I find a job?"
"Why did they hire him and not me?"
After enough of that, people woke up.
Not because someone pushed them-but because they finally understood.
They studied. Took exams. Changed paths.
Principles discovered firsthand always lasted longer than those handed down.
Why?
Because if you don't pay a price, you don't value it.
Who cares about truths that fall from the sky?
Only when you experience it yourself-
Pay the price.
Bear the consequence-
Does it stay with you for life.
Most people were like that.
Reasoning was pointless.
Show them reality. Let them figure it out.
That was the effective way.
Carlos planned to do exactly that.
Why talk?
Wouldn't it be better to just let Wesley get beaten senseless?
He had even told Morin earlier-beat him hard. Don't hold back.
It had to be said.
This kid really was his biological son.
Wesley, as expected, was unconvinced.
In his understanding, it was impossible for someone to dodge bullets fired by three top Assassin Masters from fifty meters away-and then rush in and knock them all down.
As for including himself among the Assassin Masters-
Wasn't a little self-praise allowed?
If a god carried four noobs to victory, couldn't the noobs still say, "We were awesome too"?
Wesley entered assassin bloodline mode, fully confident he was about to deliver a stunning performance.
The atmosphere tightened.
"Get ready," Carlos said in a deep voice.
"Three. Two... one."
Bang. Bang. Bang.
Three gunshots rang out almost simultaneously.
But for Morin-
There were no gunshots.
Only muzzle flashes.
And movement.
If Morin had waited to hear the shots before reacting, he would've been dead already.
The speed of sound was only about three hundred meters per second.
A handgun bullet easily exceeded that.
So Morin didn't close his eyes and "listen."
He respected science.
He loved science.
He was the guardian of physicists' tears.
Morin pushed off the ground.
Two deep craters formed under his feet as he charged straight toward the bullets.
Wesley's eyes went wide.
He saw the bullets.
Flying slowly.
And in that slowed world, he saw something worse.
A figure running faster than the bullets.
With Morin's [Physique], after activating the Templar bloodline, this level of speed was completely achievable.
And he wasn't even using stealth or backstab.
Carlos and the other two fired continuously.
But just as Carlos had predicted-
Before they could empty even one magazine, Morin had already dodged the opening shots, closed the distance, and ripped the weapons from their hands with overwhelming speed and strength.
Then-
Remembering Carlos's request-
Morin punched Wesley.
Wesley's eyes rolled back. He fainted on the spot.
"How was that?" Morin asked, shaking the three handguns in his hand.
"You're a monster," Fox said again.
Carlos simply nodded.
It was too easy.
So easy it didn't feel human.
...
"Ugh..."
Wesley slowly opened his eyes.
His mind staggered back into place.
"You're awake?" Morin appeared in his vision, holding a notebook, his expression serious.
"The surgery was a success. Congratulations. You can have children now."
"...What?"
Wesley froze.
Then a sudden surge of strength exploded from him. He broke free of the solidified healing fluid and reached down.
Nothing.
"...You actually-" Wesley stared blankly, unable to accept reality.
"Huh?" Morin froze.
"You didn't actually lose it, did you?"
Wait.
I was joking.
Did it really happen?
When did I gain reality-altering speech? I didn't know about this!
"...Ah?" Wesley carefully checked again.
He found it.
He exhaled deeply.
"...Thermal expansion and contraction?" Morin thought for a moment and asked.
"...Yeah," Wesley nodded.
"..."
Morin fell silent.
That level of thermal expansion and contraction was absurd.
So absurd you couldn't even find it yourself.
"Alright," Morin said, choosing mercy and changing the subject.
"Since you're awake, get ready. We're moving on to the next step of training."
"And," he added, "a new member is arriving soon."
"You don't plan on meeting him like this, do you?"