Carlos's words completely shattered Zhang Jie's fantasy about the ability of bullets to curve.
However, his other abilities were still worth Zhang Jie's study, such as his modification and understanding of firearms, and his Shooting skills. Besides the curving bullets, his other abilities were also excellent.
As one of John's good friends, Zhang Jie would never watch him die, no matter what. As for Wesley, he would handle him himself.
He couldn't say this to Carlos, otherwise, he would definitely stop him. The ability of bullets to curve was too bizarre and simply impossible to guard against.
Carlos didn't know what Zhang Jie was thinking. He just stood up and said to Zhang Jie, "Come on, I'll show you my gun modification room."
Hearing Carlos say this, Zhang Jie immediately became interested, because he knew very well that in the original plot, his method of firearm modification was very attractive to men.
Those various retro guns and their modified versions, especially the special gun and bullets that could snipe from thousands of meters away, were all particularly interesting to Zhang Jie.
Following Carlos to the side of the bathroom, Carlos pulled back the rug on the floor, revealing a section of wooden board. Moving the wooden board aside, there was a thick iron door.
The moment the iron door was lifted by Carlos, a strong smell of engine oil or gun oil rushed out, accompanied by a faint woody fragrance. The feeling at that moment almost intoxicated Zhang Jie.
Then, Carlos walked down the stairs in front, followed closely by Zhang Jie. After passing through a dimly lit passage, the view suddenly opened up.
The stagnant air in the room was filled with a unique mixed scent: the coldness of dry metal, the subtle sweetness of refined gun oil, the slight acridity of burnt saltpeter residue, and the aged aroma of leather and old wood.
This was not a museum display room, but Carlos's underground weapon workshop.
The lighting was precisely calculated, with several strictly angled incandescent lamps and adjustable desk lamps casting the most dazzling light onto the work surface, while the rest of the area was plunged into dim shadows, like the hidden sharpness of the firearms themselves.
The long central workbench was the true heart of the space.
The heavy oak tabletop, covered with fine scratches and oil stains, had no superfluous items.
As far as the eye could see, there were legendary firearms in a highly disassembled state. Several old Webley-Fosbery automatic revolvers had their nickel-plated bodies and ingenious toggle-lock mechanisms taken apart, with components scattered on several faded flannel cloths, each part resembling a priceless clock component.
Next to it, a Mauser C96 "Broomhandle" pistol's wooden holster had its grip panels removed, revealing the internal firing pin spring and precise lever mechanism. Its curved magazine lay open, with several sturdy hand-reloaded bullets beside it, like sleeping copper nails.
On an oil-proof paper lay a Browning high-pressure bolt assembly undergoing adjustment, removed from an old bolt-action rifle, its file-honed firing pin tip glinting like a cold star under the light.
Not far away, the rifled barrel of a Winchester 1887 lever-action shotgun was carefully secured on a high-precision lathe, emitting a faint cold light, clearly undergoing some kind of bore strengthening or lengthening treatment.
The tool wall was a silent testament to the precision of the entire space, with tools Zhang Jie recognized and didn't recognize at a glance.
It was not chaotic, but a highly functional matrix: files were arranged by coarseness and shape, like a miniature forest of silver needles; various models of screwdrivers, wrenches, and punches hung on a magnetic back panel like surgical instruments; calipers with verniers, rulers, and gauge blocks reflected cold light under the illumination.
Muzzle gauges and rifling cleaning brushes of various calibers hung in a row, like a miniature honor guard.
A special watchmaker's magnifying glass rested quietly on the desk lamp stand, awaiting its owner to scrutinize micron-level details with it.
Against the wall stood a heavy fireproof cabinet, through its frosted glass door, more classic silhouettes were faintly visible: the slender Enfield P14, the robust Springfield 1903, the compact Luger P08 "Artillery Model," and several old revolving rifles whose exact models were difficult to discern but clearly bore the marks of time and battle.
They were not merely collectibles, but rather candidates awaiting "evolution."
In another corner, a specially made sniper rifle stock blank was secured on a combination stand. A dark walnut wood, meticulously hand-polished, revealed the beautiful, vein-like contours of its grain.
Several barrel samples of different materials and lengths—cold forged steel, carbon fiber-wrapped reinforced barrels—leaned against a rack, as if awaiting Carlos's adjustments.
The cleanest and tidiest area of the workbench displayed several completed preliminary modified masterpieces:
An antique Webley revolver was fitted with a top-tier competition-grade trigger assembly and ultra-thin grip panels. The original bluing had been removed, presenting a cold, dark gray matte texture, and the "chamfering" on the cylinder created clear, sharp reflections under the light.
Another high-precision carbine, seemingly assembled, was a clever fusion of a Mauser rifle bolt, an Enfield stock, and a specially customized heavy stainless steel barrel, with the scope mount base already welded integrally.
There was not a single superfluous item in the entire workshop.
Scattered brass casings served as temporary paperweights; stacks of blueprints filled with precise measurement data and structural sketches lay in a corner; small jars containing various metal/polymer powders, viscous epoxy resin glue, and different glass bottles holding gun oil of varying lusters were arranged along the edge of the workbench like chemical reagents.
An atmosphere of extreme focus permeated the space.
Every tool, every screw, every direction of the wood grain silently spoke of a belief: perfectly fusing the sturdy soul of old-era weaponry with modern craftsmanship's demanding pursuit of ultimate precision.
Carlos's workshop was not a graveyard for guns, but a crucible where they, after "evolution," regained astonishing lethality. Everything pointed to that single ultimate goal: achieving the ultimate perfection allowed by physics and craftsmanship in an instant burst.
The air itself seemed to carry a subtle electrostatic sensation due to countless gunpowder particles waiting to be loaded.
At this moment, Zhang Jie finally fully understood the feeling Wesley had when he first came to this workshop left to him by his father.
This was simply stepping into the historical rings of old-era firearms, where each gun represented a unique soul.
"This is truly... too cool!!!"
Carlos was very pleased with Zhang Jie's envious and appreciative gaze. His praise was straightforward, and it was precisely this straightforwardness that showed his recognition of the masterpieces he had created.
Because every gun here was a painstaking masterpiece of his, and the modification of each firearm surpassed its original performance, imbuing it with a brand new soul and function.
Though the styles were old and seemingly unremarkable, they could actually unleash immense power, like assassins lurking in the dark, dormant until they struck, then striking to kill.
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