Taking advantage of the ti Fan Shigang was eagerly putting on protective gear, ng Lang looked around this boxing gym.
In an area of over three hundred square ters, the center was occupied by a boxing ring, surrounded by plenty of professional training equipnt. However, the place was empty—not a custor in sight, not even a front-desk assistant.
"How co there’s not a single custor here?" ng Lang asked curiously.
"The boss has bad managent skills; it’s about to go bankrupt, so we’re borrowing it for a day. That boss is soone you know too, his last na is Hu."
Hu? Hu Yifei?
"Hmm... that’s indeed unfortunate."
A professional at failing in investnts, that is...
"What do you an ’unfortunate’? So people fail and just start over, while others might never get another chance after failing!"
"Uh..."
Perceiving the hint in the other person’s words, ng Lang probed cautiously.
"You seem in a bad mood today?"
"It’s nothing, just had a quarrel with the old man at ho."
Stretching, twisting her waist, pressing her legs... Yan Weiwei ward up while speaking expressionlessly.
The practice attire she wore resembled loose-fitting Zen robes made of hemp, which seed lightweight and flexible.
As she moved, she exhibited her remarkable flexibility...
ng Lang discreetly withdrew his gaze that had fallen on her waist, and asked with uncertainty.
"A quarrel? Didn’t you already agree to participate in that mountaineering club? Why did you still end up arguing?"
Yan Weiwei pursed her lips.
"What else? Talk of providing information about my opponent; if it’s not about how profound the Xingyi Sect’s martial arts are, then it’s about the Baji Fist’s formidable power. Between the lines, they hint that I should not overreach myself, wanting to lose quickly!"
Uh...
I’m not too familiar with the Xingyi Sect, but you probably can’t defeat that Baji Fist practitioner, considering your legs were broken...
Looks like the old man genuinely cares; it’s just that he inadvertently irritated you, right?
"Are you that eager to win?"
Yan Weiwei glanced at him, "I don’t want to win, but I also don’t want to lose."
Don’t want to lose? To whom? To a predetermined fate...?
ng Lang sighed inwardly.
"Actually, I can sowhat understand you."
Yan Weiwei felt sowhat speechless; different people have different sorrows—how could one truly empathize, especially soone who knows nothing...
"What do you know about understanding? What do you understand about ?"
"For instance, that martial arts shouldn’t be hereditary..."
ng Lang crossed his arms, shaking his head repeatedly.
Such a bad practice! It’s a remnant of feudal tis!
However, upon hearing this, Yan Weiwei beside him tensed up and then turned her head "click-click-click" in a chanical, expressionless manner.
"Who told you that?"
"Uh..."
Only then did ng Lang realize that Yan Weiwei’s expression was unfriendly and that he seed to "know" a little too much...
"About that..."
Yan Weiwei stared at the stamring ng Lang.
Could it have been Haitang? No, Haitang wasn’t one to gossip.
Yan Weiwei turned her head, her gaze shifting to the man beside her who was fumbling with his protective gear.
When Fan Shigang noticed Yan Weiwei looking at him, he returned a simple, honest smile.
"That... actually..." ng Lang tried to explain with a forced laugh.
Yan Weiwei, however, viciously lifted her leg for a kicking motion in the air, the gust from the kick blowing ng Lang’s fringe, carrying with it a chilling murderous intent...
"Do you know what I hate the most?"
"No... I don’t."
"I hate n who gossip behind others’ backs the most!"
...
"Bang! Bang bang! Bang bang bang!"
"Ha! Ah da!" "Ouch!"
Watching Fan Shigang on the boxing ring get kicked back several steps, hitting the elastic ropes and bouncing back only to continue enduring the barrage of attacks, ng Lang, feeling compassion, covered his eyes.
Trouble cos from one’s mouth!
Fortunately, it’s not fulfilling on himself...
But now he understood why, despite Yan Weiwei only wearing lightweight practice attire, Fan Shigang needed to don a full set of protective gear.
During their previous scuffle in the bar with a bunch of riffraffs, he hadn’t sensed much of a gap between them, but now that they were actually fighting, he understood why Fan Shigang greeted Master Yan with utmost respect every ti they t.
If Fan Shigang were bronze-level, then Yan Weiwei would be at least at the diamond level; they simply weren’t on the sa level.
The Yan family’s Twelve Road Spring Leg wasn’t just about leg techniques; Yan Weiwei was also skilled with her hands.
Yet, the primary mode of attack ca from her incredibly elastic long legs.
Unlike the performative so-called martial arts commonly seen in the market, the offense and defense between Yan Weiwei and her opponent resembled that of modern Sanshou fighting.
The so-called stances and styles were more about techniques of exerting force.
Without too many superfluous routines and movents, what mattered was the test of sight, strength, and speed through concise actions.
Especially those sudden, tricky, and powerful kicks from Yan Weiwei, swift and unpredictable, were nacing and ca at deceptive angles.
Setting aside her defensive capabilities, her attack power was absolutely off the charts!
As soon as Fan Shigang let down his guard to show an offensive stance, a shadow of a kick would strike his weak spots like a bolt of lightning.
Fan Shigang would either get kicked and grimace in pain, or he’d have to abandon his attack and revert to a turtle-shell-like defensive stance with no chance to counterattack, being pressurized the entire ti by the relentless leg strikes.
The occasional feint made Fan Shigang trendously nervous, with the mix of bluff and real strength forcing him to concentrate fully on defending against every attack coming his way.
Even when Yan Weiwei didn’t kick, the coiled-up readiness of her legs forced Fan Shigang to expend a great deal of energy to stay on guard.
Reviews
All reviews (0)