Nicholas's special training began from that day.
The four of them received the special training as Nicholas asked.
But Nason was the first one who had a problem.
Bang.
On the shooting range, an arrow of pure wind magic power was nailed to a thick trunk.
It was at least three or four meters away from its real target, the large arrow target hanging on the nearby branch.
Thirty meters away, Nason lowered his head and took back magic power.
There were at least forty or fifty arrow holes on the ground, tree trunk, and wall, but there was no arrow target.
"Look, thirty-five meters away, low power, forty times shooting, your best result is only twenty centimeters from the edge of the arrow target."
Nicholas sipped the black tea and looked at Nason's depressed face leisurely.
"The bow of wind elf can shoot arrows that can shatter a city, but it should shoot arrows, not cannonballs."
"Powerful arrows could be shot out by anyone who took the bow, but this was not its real use."