Jimmy returned to the cabin, where Roland was lying on the sofa, looking somewhat forlorn.
Jimmy, "Roland, I've forgotten what you taught me before. Can you teach me again?"
Roland sat up straight and got up.
Roland, "What do you want to learn?"
Jimmy, "Gunman."
Roland, "It's no use. You can't become a gunman. Your heart was once filled with hate and revenge. The gunman's oath is to protect the Black Tower, to protect the world. Hatred will cause one to lose the ability of a gunman."
Jimmy, "I'm not who I was before. You can feel it, I no longer harbor hate or resentment."
Roland, "Come with me."
Roland loaded two guns and walked out of the cabin to a clearing in the woods.
I do not aim with my hand. I aim with my eye.
He who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I do not shoot with my hand. I shoot with my mind.
He who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I do not kill with my gun. I kill with my heart.
he who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father.
As Roland recited these words in a low voice, he raised his guns and aimed at several steel targets placed on the ground. The targets were not more than twenty meters away, not too far.
"Bang" "Dang" "Bang" "Dang" "Bang" "Dang".
After finishing this passage, Roland fired three shots and knocked down three targets.
Jimmy had already fetched his own gun from the vehicle. He poured out some bullets from the ammo box, filled the chamber, and walked up to Roland's side.
"Jimmy, you try firing the gun first so I can see what level you can reach now," Roland said.
Jimmy didn't aim at the steel targets but instead focused on a wooden stake left from cutting trees before.
After firing a 6-round burst and reloading for another round, because he didn't bring a speed loader this time, he reloaded manually for the second round.
Watching Jimmy's actions, Roland shook his head.
"It seems you've completely forgotten what you learned before, Jimmy."
Roland reloaded his chamber and fired at the same wooden stake. After one round, he also manually reloaded and fired another round, although he was much faster than Jimmy.
Roland's reloading was very smooth, and Jimmy realized that while his shooting speed wasn't at much of a disadvantage, his reloading was far too slow. Roland took about 2 seconds to reload, while Jimmy took 4-5 seconds.
After demonstrating, Roland explained the reloading process to Jimmy again: barrel pointing up, thumb pushing the cylinder release, index finger pushing towards the upper left corner to pop open the cylinder, ejecting the spent cases while simultaneously giving the cylinder a spin, then lowering the barrel, loading the bullets with the left hand, bullet noses forward, one by one into the cylinder.
The speed and force of the rotation from the right index finger, in sync with the speed of inputting bullets with the left hand, enable a smooth reloading operation like Roland's.
"OK, you've learned this before. You just need to practice and let your body regain its memory," Roland said.
Jimmy tried, but couldn't master the movements. However, now that he knew how to do it, the rest was up to his own practice.
"Let's go back,"
Roland and Jimmy returned to the cabin, where Roland took off his gun belt and placed it on the table.
Roland said, "Jimmy, after you return, don't use a magazine loader. Use this type of revolver cylinder instead, it's convenient for loading all the bullets at once."
Roland said, "Jimmy, I'm really happy to see you again, but now it's time for you to leave. Jimmy, there's no need to come back."
Jimmy looked at Roland; indeed, he had guessed as much.
Jimmy said, "Before I go, Roland, I still want to know what ultimately happened."
Roland turned his back to Jimmy, gazing at the gun on the table.
Roland said, "When we were closing the gap, the people around us who had been infected by demonic creatures were all killed by Jimmy. Perhaps they could have been saved, perhaps not, but it wasn't our place to act. Jimmy was controlled by hatred, and he has completely lost the chance to become a gunman."
Roland paused for a moment and then continued, "Eight years of hope destroyed in an instant. I remain the last gunman."
Jimmy said, "I understand. Goodbye, Roland."
Jimmy left the house, got into his car, and drove towards Dallas.
Roland already knew that Jimmy was not the same Jimmy anymore, and the only link between them had been severed, a cut made consciously by Roland himself. For Jimmy, though he had lost the opportunity to learn about other quick-reloading revolvers, he couldn't bring himself to cling to an old man who didn't want to see him for lessons.
As for the previous affairs of Jimmy's body, they had nothing to do with him. As an outsider, seeking revenge held no meaning; he had no memories of, nor any emotion for that deceased "father," nor any interest in pursuing any matter.
Let the professionals deal with demons and such; with years of development in this world, even if there were supernatural events, there would surely be professionals handling them. Jimmy was just an ordinary, unremarkable junior policeman.
Besides, he had gained a lot from this trip, learning a new technique for quickly loading loose bullets. That was enough; one shouldn't be too greedy.
Jimmy drove back to Dallas, returned the car at the airport, and then flew directly to Little Rock.
Upon arriving home, Jimmy didn't rest but went straight to the shooting range. He had gained much from this trip and needed to seize the time to practice, to make sure he remembered and grew accustomed to what he had learned, lest he forget the details with time.
Jimmy remembered Roland's words as well. Not to exaggerate, but Jimmy now possessed quite good spiritual power. Although he couldn't speed-read or have a photographic memory, he could still remember a few simple sentences.
I do not aim with my hand. I aim with my eye.
He who aims with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I aim with my eye.
I do not shoot with my hand.
He who shoots with his hand has forgotten the face of his father.
I shoot with my mind.
I do not kill with my gun.
He who kills with his gun has forgotten the face of his father.
I kill with my heart.
Reciting the three-part mantra as Roland had done, Jimmy fired his gun, with each shot hitting the target, yet nothing unexpected occurred.
Alright, he thought too much; those words must be some sort of ancestral teaching from Roland's lineage, not any kind of spell. And there was nothing unusual about Roland's shooting either.
Jimmy shook his head, discarding the notion, reminding himself he was just a shooter—it was merely wishful thinking to aspire to be a gunman.
But the loading technique Roland had taught was indeed quite good. Jimmy practiced several times that afternoon without much improvement; it seemed he still needed more practice. He could continue to practice anytime when he was free since it didn't involve shooting and wasn't restricted by time or place.
After tidying up, Jimmy left the shooting range and went back home to adjust himself, preparing to return to work.