CHAPTER 283: CHAPTER 86: GUNS AND MEN

The seemingly inconspicuous wooden box was carefully crafted, with rivets covering its four sides, devoid of a single scratch. It seemed that both Ye Lingyun from before and the elder who came after took great care to preserve the box in perfect condition.

The orderly soldier who brought the box didn’t know what was inside. Although curious, he demonstrated the fine quality of a Z country soldier: after setting down the box, he promptly left the room, closing the door behind him with the softest sound.

"I should hand this over to you. I’m getting on in years, and it’s not much use to me anymore," said the old man as he sat down on the sofa, his gaze sharp. During the car ride, he had noticed the calluses on Pello’s hands.

The young man sitting next to him possessed a harmless appearance, yet his eyes were no less determined than those of a decorated national serviceman.

Pello seemed to have anticipated what was inside the box; he unbuckled the latch, revealing a handgun laid inside.

"A Swiss-made P210," Pello said instinctively, his eyes alight with indescribable elation.

The old man wasn’t surprised by Pello’s recognition. As a military heir, the skill of knowing and handling firearms should be as natural to him as breathing.

The pistol grip, made of walnut wood, shone brightly, matching the deep blue shine of the gun body. This old-fashioned handgun, with decades of history, and Pello were each taking a robust look at the other.

"Lingyun seized it from a high-ranking Japanese Invader officer. Later, it became his trophy. Chronologically, it could match the age of your grandfather," explained the old man. In the international pistol community, this firearm was renowned—a handmade marvel, precision in range, and a light body, all highly praised by insiders and coveted by handgun enthusiasts.

"What’s more special is that this pistol is fully automatic," Pello could hardly believe his eyes. At that time, a fully automatic P210 was an unparalleled rarity.

"Back when this automatic pistol just started production, they were few and far between, incomparable to the ones you find on the market now," the old man said, his fingers unwittingly moving. Now that times were better, few people knew how many lives a good handgun could save on the battlefield back in the day.

"This handgun also saved the lives of several founding figures of our nation," the elder’s cheeks flushed with excitement as he recollected the past, raising his voice without realizing it. His fingers curled, mimicking the action of pulling a trigger, seemingly not content until he picked up the gun.

You should know, for an archer, good physical condition is key, but for a gunman, mental state is even more crucial. The elder couldn’t compare to his prime, but fortunately, he remained open-minded and his vision was as sharp as ever. His handling of the gun—loading the bullets, inserting the magazine—was smooth and swift, exuding a semblance of his former glory.

"Here," the elder tossed the gun to Pello. For anyone else, throwing around a loaded gun would be akin to balancing your life on the edge of a knife. But Pello, with one-quarter of Ye Lingyun’s blood running through his veins, showcased his incredible dexterity, catching and handling the gun with ease.

When the gun was in his hand, Pello felt a tremor in his heart. Grandfather and grandson, separated by life and death and over two decades of time, were now connected through this handgun.

The gun was warm from being loaded, and now it comfortably rested in Pello’s grip, the weapon that had accompanied his grandfather for half of his lifetime.

"Are you really at ease handing over the gun to me?" Pello and the elder met for the first time, but a profound sentiment had already taken root in their hearts. Unlike Western countries, Z country regulated firearms strictly; besides military and police personnel with professional needs, ordinary civilians were not allowed to possess guns.

"Young man, life is much like a gun. Harbor evil intentions, and even a gunstock can be deadly; possess a kind heart, and a bullet wound can be taken like nourishing medicine. Everything depends on one’s heart," the elder sighed, admitting the inevitability of age. He thought of the young man before him, sharp yet restrained, with deep eyes, fit for the political arena, a pity that he was not one of the Z country’s political circle.

An elder and a younger man, further discussions unfolded, and the elder, when in high spirits, shared more about Ye Lingyun’s past, giving Pello a better understanding of his grandfather, both familiar and strange.

Towards the end of their conversation, the elder added, "It’s a pity your mother passed away young; back then, she loved to circle around me, chattering and laughing incessantly, a true delight."