Lin Fan, now in a fresh robe he borrowed from the restaurant's back storage after spilling soup on himself, sat hunched over his bowl.
His hair was wet, thanks to an earlier "accidental" water spill caused by Mu Qianxue flicking her cup just a bit too hard.
Across from him, Hei Long was the center of attention.
Bai Luoluo leaned slightly forward, genuinely curious.
"So wait, you're saying if I adjust the pressure core inside the bolt chamber, it'll stabilize the recoil?"
Hei Long nodded.
"Exactly. Otherwise, your shots will veer to the right after five rounds."
Even the Saintess was impressed.
"You know quite a bit about weapon refining for someone who doesn't carry one."
Hei Long just gave a humble smile and dipped a dumpling into sauce.
"I dabble."
Lin Fan stared down at his own dumpling, which had somehow slipped into his tea, bloated and sad.
'Boy,' the old man inside his head finally groaned.
