The crossbow was more user-friendly compared to firearms; it had relatively small recoil and the trajectory was easier to control.
Li Du aimed at the target and pulled the trigger—an arrow whizzed away.
In the blink of an eye, the arrow landed in a target located sixty feet away!
The employee applauded loudly.
This crossbow was equipped with a quiver that could hold eight arrows.
However, the self-loading speed was slow, taking about five to six seconds.
Li Du shot all eight arrows at the target. "The loading speed is a bit slow, but other than that it’s fine—dude this is cool."
"If you’re looking for faster speed," said the employee, "You should change to marbles— shooting speed would be multiplied several times, and its loading speed is very fast."
The quiver was smaller, but it had a high capacity of 80 marbles; the loading speed was indeed much faster—in one second, it was loaded with a snap.
But the range of marbles was closer; the limit was 130 feet, and the trajectory was harder to control—beyond 100 feet was a difficult shot.
Li Du found using marbles sufficient. His target was merely pheasant or hare, not wild boar. For this reason, the crossbow was more useful to him than the pistol.
After the shooting test, he decided to buy one. Buying this did not require a Green Card; the possession of a hunting license would qualify.
The price of the crossbow was not low though—the bow itself costs 600 dollars, with the addition of accessories such as an infrared filter, scope, and laser, in total costing almost 800 dollars.
What would be expensive over time were the arrows: a dozen cost 24 dollars, so every lost arrow would cost 2 dollars. The deterioration of the bow itself would also cost money for repairs over time.
Hans bought a Remington 700-b, which could be upgraded to Remington 700-pp, the standard sniper rifle used by Arizona police.
Li Du had heard before that buying pistols in the US was as easy as grocery shopping, but after this experience, he realized that it was not that easy and could be quite troublesome.
Li Du didn’t buy the pistol, so the procedure was rather simple; he just needed to show his license and fill out Form 4474.
This form was used for a background check; the weapon’s serial number would be recorded as well. In case anything went wrong, the buyer could be traced without delay.
For Hans, this was not the case: he had to show his driving license, arms license, and fill out several forms from the FBI, the police station, and the National Guard.
The forms would be collated to a document and sent to a few departments for examination.
Only after everything was settled could the buyer could get the pistol—the examination would last very long for this kind of suppressible weapon.
However, Veteran World was a renowned gun store. The document submitted would be examined with high priority.
They both stayed overnight in Phoenix. After finishing the procedures and getting Li Du’s car, they got the pistol from Veteran World in the evening.
The price for the Hellcat was 105,000 dollars, which placed it as an expensive luxury car. Driving it on the road would definitely turn more heads compared to normal luxury cars.
Hans sat in the passenger seat, carrying the rifle, wearing sunglasses, holding a cigar in his mouth, wearing a shirt with the buttons deliberately open: he looked like a mafia boss.
A police motorcycle, its lights flashing, was approaching them from behind, which frightened Hans enough to toss the rifle in the backseat and button up his shirt. The police rode past them, however, and left with sirens blaring.
When they arrived back in Flagstaff, Hannah greatly admired Hellcat. "Wow, this car is so bold! It’s a real beast."
"It’s even better when driving it," said Li Du with a smile, touching the front of Hellcat.
For the rest of the time until evening, Hannah and Hans drove the car all around.
And, when they got back, 100 dollars in fuel had been burned.
The last weekend in July, Li Du, Hans, and Godzilla were well-armed and set out to The Grand Canyon National Park.
"Today there will be lots of people joining this hunting activity. We might come across some idiots, but just leave them alone," Hans advised. "We all have guns."
"Rest assured, I’m a nice guy, there wouldn’t be any conflicts," said Li Du.
Near the national park, a helicopter flew past them.
Li Du looked up and asked, "What’s this from? The Forestry Bureau or the Environmental Bureau?"
"Neither," Hans answered, "this is obviously a private helicopter. They are coming for helicopter hunting."
Helicopter hunting was a contemporary noble activity that only the wealthiest could play. It was not that helicopters were expensive—in fact, quite a few Americans had helicopters.
However, helicopter hunting required a specific permit as wild animals had no chance to escape if they were spotted. Helicopter hunting brought the advantages of a nice view, fast speed, and an air-to-ground strike.
In order to protect the animals, the specific permit was needed for helicopter hunting, and the price was high, costing at least a few thousand dollars.
Perhaps some might spent a hundred thousand to buy a helicopter, but only a few might spent thousands to buy a hunting permit for helicopter hunting.
Driving into the parking lot of the national park, Li Du got out of the car and started to prepare. "Hi, Li, you’re here?" said a voice from behind him.
Li Du was stunned and turned around. He saw a familiar face: James Martin, Sophie’s father.
The little old man was smoking a pipe, his eyes narrowed as always like a crescent, holding an old-fashioned shotgun, and there were other old men around his age standing by his side.
Li Du quickly stood up tall and said spiritedly, "Oh, Mr. Martin, hello, so glad to see you here. My friend and I wanted to relax here, it’s so great to see you."
Mr. Martin laughed happily. "Yeah, hunting is a good activity for relaxing. Have fun, and I wish you the best of luck."
With this, he turned to his friends and said, "This is Sophie’s friend Li, an excellent young Chinese man. He’s good at cooking and Sophie loves to eat the dishes cooked by him."
The old men started to stare at him. Mr. Li stood up even taller, gripping the crossbow in front of his chest.
"Hey dude, are you attending a military parade?" teased Hans.
The old men laughed after hearing this; one of them stopped laughing when he saw Hans. "You’re the little Fox b*stard?" he asked.
Hans shook his head. "No, no, no—you must have mistaken me."
"Mistaken?" The little old man glared at Hans. "I’m not that old to make a mistake! You’re a Fox!"
"My surname is Fox," Hans replied, "but I’m not a little b*stard."
Li Du opened the car door and shoved him in. "Dude, you might want to stop talking now."
The crossbow was more user-friendly compared to firearms; it had relatively small recoil and the trajectory was easier to control.
Li Du aimed at the target and pulled the trigger—an arrow whizzed away.
In the blink of an eye, the arrow landed in a target located sixty feet away!
The employee applauded loudly.
This crossbow was equipped with a quiver that could hold eight arrows.
However, the self-loading speed was slow, taking about five to six seconds.
Li Du shot all eight arrows at the target. "The loading speed is a bit slow, but other than that it’s fine—dude this is cool."
"If you’re looking for faster speed," said the employee, "You should change to marbles— shooting speed would be multiplied several times, and its loading speed is very fast."
The quiver was smaller, but it had a high capacity of 80 marbles; the loading speed was indeed much faster—in one second, it was loaded with a snap.
But the range of marbles was closer; the limit was 130 feet, and the trajectory was harder to control—beyond 100 feet was a difficult shot.
Li Du found using marbles sufficient. His target was merely pheasant or hare, not wild boar. For this reason, the crossbow was more useful to him than the pistol.
After the shooting test, he decided to buy one. Buying this did not require a Green Card; the possession of a hunting license would qualify.
The price of the crossbow was not low though—the bow itself costs 600 dollars, with the addition of accessories such as an infrared filter, scope, and laser, in total costing almost 800 dollars.
What would be expensive over time were the arrows: a dozen cost 24 dollars, so every lost arrow would cost 2 dollars. The deterioration of the bow itself would also cost money for repairs over time.
Hans bought a Remington 700-b, which could be upgraded to Remington 700-pp, the standard sniper rifle used by Arizona police.
Li Du had heard before that buying pistols in the US was as easy as grocery shopping, but after this experience, he realized that it was not that easy and could be quite troublesome.
Li Du didn’t buy the pistol, so the procedure was rather simple; he just needed to show his license and fill out Form 4474.
This form was used for a background check; the weapon’s serial number would be recorded as well. In case anything went wrong, the buyer could be traced without delay.
For Hans, this was not the case: he had to show his driving license, arms license, and fill out several forms from the FBI, the police station, and the National Guard.
The forms would be collated to a document and sent to a few departments for examination.
Only after everything was settled could the buyer could get the pistol—the examination would last very long for this kind of suppressible weapon.
However, Veteran World was a renowned gun store. The document submitted would be examined with high priority.
They both stayed overnight in Phoenix. After finishing the procedures and getting Li Du’s car, they got the pistol from Veteran World in the evening.
The price for the Hellcat was 105,000 dollars, which placed it as an expensive luxury car. Driving it on the road would definitely turn more heads compared to normal luxury cars.
Hans sat in the passenger seat, carrying the rifle, wearing sunglasses, holding a cigar in his mouth, wearing a shirt with the buttons deliberately open: he looked like a mafia boss.
A police motorcycle, its lights flashing, was approaching them from behind, which frightened Hans enough to toss the rifle in the backseat and button up his shirt. The police rode past them, however, and left with sirens blaring.
When they arrived back in Flagstaff, Hannah greatly admired Hellcat. "Wow, this car is so bold! It’s a real beast."
"It’s even better when driving it," said Li Du with a smile, touching the front of Hellcat.
For the rest of the time until evening, Hannah and Hans drove the car all around.
And, when they got back, 100 dollars in fuel had been burned.
The last weekend in July, Li Du, Hans, and Godzilla were well-armed and set out to The Grand Canyon National Park.
"Today there will be lots of people joining this hunting activity. We might come across some idiots, but just leave them alone," Hans advised. "We all have guns."
"Rest assured, I’m a nice guy, there wouldn’t be any conflicts," said Li Du.
Near the national park, a helicopter flew past them.
Li Du looked up and asked, "What’s this from? The Forestry Bureau or the Environmental Bureau?"
"Neither," Hans answered, "this is obviously a private helicopter. They are coming for helicopter hunting."
Helicopter hunting was a contemporary noble activity that only the wealthiest could play. It was not that helicopters were expensive—in fact, quite a few Americans had helicopters.
However, helicopter hunting required a specific permit as wild animals had no chance to escape if they were spotted. Helicopter hunting brought the advantages of a nice view, fast speed, and an air-to-ground strike.
In order to protect the animals, the specific permit was needed for helicopter hunting, and the price was high, costing at least a few thousand dollars.
Perhaps some might spent a hundred thousand to buy a helicopter, but only a few might spent thousands to buy a hunting permit for helicopter hunting.
Driving into the parking lot of the national park, Li Du got out of the car and started to prepare. "Hi, Li, you’re here?" said a voice from behind him.
Li Du was stunned and turned around. He saw a familiar face: James Martin, Sophie’s father.
The little old man was smoking a pipe, his eyes narrowed as always like a crescent, holding an old-fashioned shotgun, and there were other old men around his age standing by his side.
Li Du quickly stood up tall and said spiritedly, "Oh, Mr. Martin, hello, so glad to see you here. My friend and I wanted to relax here, it’s so great to see you."
Mr. Martin laughed happily. "Yeah, hunting is a good activity for relaxing. Have fun, and I wish you the best of luck."
With this, he turned to his friends and said, "This is Sophie’s friend Li, an excellent young Chinese man. He’s good at cooking and Sophie loves to eat the dishes cooked by him."
The old men started to stare at him. Mr. Li stood up even taller, gripping the crossbow in front of his chest.
"Hey dude, are you attending a military parade?" teased Hans.
The old men laughed after hearing this; one of them stopped laughing when he saw Hans. "You’re the little Fox b*stard?" he asked.
Hans shook his head. "No, no, no—you must have mistaken me."
"Mistaken?" The little old man glared at Hans. "I’m not that old to make a mistake! You’re a Fox!"
"My surname is Fox," Hans replied, "but I’m not a little b*stard."
Li Du opened the car door and shoved him in. "Dude, you might want to stop talking now."
