The Mafia Heiress's Comeback: She's More Than You Think novel Chapter 197

Chapter 197 They Might As Well Quit Now

“Trust me, if that girl showed up today, nobody else would even matter,” said Alberto, laughing.

“Come on, Alberto. Aren’t you being a bit too dramatic?” The judges‘ panel had a new face this time–Trey, president of the academy that won the last competition.

He had barely settled into his seat when Alberto’s remark reached his ears, and the scowl that followed said exactly how he felt about it.

“Nobody’s ever really matched our students. Some of them outthink their own instructors. If it were me back in the day, I’m not sure I could’ve kept pace. So when someone says there’s better out there unless they mean those elite military prodigies–I find that pretty hard to believe.”

Hearing that anyone could surpass his best students was something Trey clearly didn’t take lightly. He was genuinely curious about who this exceptional individual might be.

“You should know better, Trey. It’s risky to speak on things you don’t understand.”

Trey’s words didn’t sit well with Alberto, who gave a slight frown at the bluntness.

Realizing who he was talking to, Trey felt heat rise to his face. Being outspoken came naturally to him, but this time he’d crossed a line. “I was just… I didn’t mean to offend you. I wasn’t thinking before I spoke.”

Alberto wasn’t someone he could cross.

A sharp snort came from Alberto, but he let it drop. He knew Trey well enough to let the jab slide.

“All participants, please report to your assigned areas. The event is about to begin!”

Right on schedule, the host’s voice echoed through the arena as the opening ceremony wrapped up.

A wide circular field stretched before them, with rows of spectators watching from the stands. The judges sat front and center, ready.

Only one machine sat in the arena–an automated launcher.

At this stage, still targets just didn’t cut it anymore. What they needed was motion, urgency, and the kind of pressure that pushed limits,

Here, the rules were clear. The launcher would shoot tennis balls into the sky, one after another.

Standing fifty meters away, each student had to fire mid–air.

They were handed ten bullets each. Every hit scored a point. Ten meant perfection. The student who struck the most balls would win.

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<Chapter 197 They Might As Well Quit Now

“Now entering the arena, the finest from our five military academies!” the host announced, his voice booming

across the arena.

Five teams, each made up of three students, entered from separate directions and converged at the center.

“And here comes Voutsas Military Academy! Last year’s reigning champions!”

“Matthew Griffin is probably the best among our state’s rising stars! I remember him nailing nine out of ten

moving targets last time!”

“You saw it too? I was right there and saw the whole thing! The military jumped at him right after, but he said

1. no. Claimed he didn’t do well enough. Promised he’d come back this year and nail all ten!”

“That’s insane! He really is a superstar!”

Out of all five teams on the field, none carried more weight than Voutsas Military Academy. Last year’s

champions weren’t just favorites–they were expected to dominate..

“Looks like your students are still the ones to beat this year, Trey,” one judge said with a polite nod.

They’d all seen this before. Voutsas Military Academy didn’t just win once or twice. They owned the title more

times than anyone else. Being based in the capital only widened the gap in skill and resources.

“You flatter me. I barely do anything. The credit’s all theirs–discipline and raw ability,” Trey said, his words humble but his face full of pride.

When he spotted Daniel, who wasn’t a judge, he even tossed a smug look in his direction. But Daniel ignored

him.

“All set! Contestants from Silverbrook Military Academy, please report to the field!” the host shouted.

Tucked near Grisriver and far from Voutsas, Silverbrook Military Academy stood on the edge of Slatinia.

One after another, the academy’s three contestants stepped into the marked circle.

Across from them, fifty meters away, the launcher stood waiting.

Speed mattered just as much as aim in this challenge. The balls came flying one after another, leaving no room to breathe. A split–second of hesitation, and the ball would hit the ground–a missed shot.

All contestants used standard–issue handguns for the round.