Chapter 377 Like a fool talking to broken plastic

Inside the small hotel room.

Yan Poyue’s command, “Tomorrow at 2 PM,” had just fallen.

The already faint sounds in the room seemed to be instantly sucked away.

Only his own slightly heavy breathing echoed.

Immediately after.

The circle of crimson indicator lights at the bottom of the gun grip, as if sensing a summons, quickly flickered twice.

A faint electrical current sound emanated from within the lifeless plastic pistol.

“Buzz—buzz—”

It seemed that the miniature chip hidden under the plastic casing was rapidly processing the audio signal it had just received.

After the message was recorded.

The pistol once again emitted an emotionless electronic voice.

The voice calmly stated:

“Command accepted, time parameters have been recorded.”

...

Hearing this confirmed reply.

Then.

Yan Poyue’s muscles instantly tensed up.

As a special forces elite who had undergone countless trials, his physical reactions were much faster than his brain's thoughts.

He was like someone facing a formidable enemy.

He abruptly switched from a relaxed cross-legged posture to a tactical crouch, ready to exert force at any moment.

His right hand instinctively reached for the ceramic dagger handle on his tactical vest.

He stared at the gray plastic toy on the bed.

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Even his breathing deliberately slowed down at this moment.

The rise and fall of his chest were compressed to the extreme.

He waited for the pistol's next move.

One must know.

In his scholar's logic.

This kind of high-tech weapon, which integrates complex fluid mechanics, semi-air blast separation technology, and even infrared enemy-seeking systems.

After explicitly accepting the user's combat command, its internal structure would inevitably undergo a series of complex mechanical engagements and energy scheduling.

At the very least, shouldn't it start preheating to a high temperature?

Or should the barrel surface emit a few crisp metallic friction sounds, completing some kind of tactical transformation?

Failing that, shouldn't some high-tech detection probe eject from the muzzle's gap to scan the surrounding battlefield environment?

After all, those heaven-defying parameters were clearly written in the thick, dictionary-like instruction manuals.

He swallowed a mouthful of saliva, fully concentrated and on guard.

Fearing that the commotion when it started would be too loud, attracting the attention of people in the small town.

...

However.

Time passed second by second.

The wall clock in the corner made a monotonous “tick-tock” sound.

One second passed.

The pistol on the bed remained unchanged.

One minute passed.

The anticipated sound of mechanical transformation did not appear.

Until a full five minutes had passed.

Yan Poyue maintained his highly vigilant tactical crouching posture, feeling his thigh muscles starting to ache slightly.

Yet, the pistol on the bed seemed to have completely frozen.

There was no longer any movement.

The faint crimson indicator light that had just been on also completely extinguished.

It lay quietly on the pilled, cheap chemical fiber bedsheet.

Its surface had a dull, grayish luster.

From any angle, it looked like a piece of discarded plastic picked up from a garbage dump.

Completely harmless.

...

Yan Poyue sat on the edge of the bed, lowering his guard.

He stared blankly at the unresponsive object.

The veins on his forehead throbbed.

A sense of deep ridicule and frustration instantly broke through the agent's defense line he had just established.

He asked from the depths of his soul:

“What in the world is going on?”

“Isn't it supposed to be smart matching?”

“I've been talking myself hoarse giving you combat commands, and all you do is flash twice and that's it?!”

“What's the difference between this and setting a phone alarm?!”

This psychological gap left Yan Poyue utterly speechless.

‘Could this be another prank trap set by that sly Old Wang from the Ministry of Military Industry?’ A thought flashed through his mind.

He felt that Old Wang must have deliberately made a talking plastic shell to torment them, the frontline agents, for always demanding expensive equipment.

...

Then.

Yan Poyue was still somewhat unwilling to give up.

He leaned closer to the gun, almost pressing his face against the bed.

He observed it carefully for a while longer.

Hoping to find a trace of high-tech operation in the rough plastic seams.

He even extended his index finger.

He gently tapped the gray barrel with his knuckle.

Producing a dull “thud-thud” sound.

Then, he tilted his neck, pressed the side of his face against the bed, and listened with his ear for any sound of mechanical operation inside.

Even a faint sound of gears turning would have been something.

The result was.

He found that this Firefighting Parent-Child Pistol, which the manual boasted about so much, truly remained completely motionless.

It was eerily quiet inside, without even a faint hum of electricity.

...

He was completely defeated by this thing.

Yan Poyue plopped down onto the floor.

He was simply speechless.

The corners of his mouth twitched uncontrollably.

Recalling how he had been on high alert for a full five minutes, as if facing a formidable enemy.

He felt like a complete idiot talking to a broken piece of plastic.

“I must be crazy to believe this damn thing would be useful.”

He cursed under his breath.

Then.

He stood up and angrily grabbed the useless toy gun.

He immediately unzipped his travel bag and shoved it into the very bottom, pressing it down firmly with several changes of clothes.

Out of sight, out of mind.

He didn't intend to waste any more energy waiting.

He had a tough battle to fight tomorrow, no time to waste on a mentally challenged toy.

He decisively took off his loose disguise jacket and threw it on a nearby chair.

He collapsed onto the bed, intending to sleep.

Yan Poyue pulled the blanket over his head, forcing himself to clear his mind and enter a state of sleep.

He needed to conserve all his energy and physical strength.

After all.

Tomorrow at 2 PM, he still had to go deep into the tiger's den to execute that arduous decapitation mission.