As Chen Bitong pondered, Chen Xiaojin moved. But the next instant, his well-prepared opponent kicked him away. After landing, he slid sideways for some distance, nearly skidding out of the ring.
Fortunately, this type of match was not decided by points. It could only end when one side conceded defeat or completely lost the ability to fight. So as Chen Xiaojin flipped himself up and climbed to his feet, the match continued.
Chen Bitong sighed softly. He knew his youngest son well. He was not someone skilled at adapting flexibly. He had a little talent, but not much—far inferior to his older brother and sister.
At that moment just now, if it had been his eldest son or eldest daughter, they definitely would have seized that fleeting opportunity.
However, his youngest son's stubborn streak was far too much like his own. Once he set his mind on something, he would give it everything he had. No matter what, he refused to turn back.
Chen Xiaojin charged forward again, but the gap between him and his opponent was obvious. Nearly all of the counterattacks he launched were effectively blocked or evaded, while he himself exposed even more openings.
He was knocked down several more times afterward. Once, after falling to the ground, he was pinned down and struck repeatedly by the other side. Yet even so, he stubbornly endured it and got back to his feet.
At this stage, outstanding students had already mastered the use of force. Every attack could inflict damage upon the Mutated Tissue, greatly accelerating the loss of stamina and disrupting one's breathing. Normally, by this point, victory and defeat would already be clear.
Yet Chen Bitong noticed that although his youngest son was no match for his opponent, every time he was hit, he made some