Close-quarters sparring inevitably left someone bruised.
Especially when one side defended and the other attacked—the defender was more likely to get hurt.
But since Miao Yang had said as much, Cheng Ye didn't hold back. He immediately assumed his starting stance.
As the saying went, outsiders watched the spectacle, while insiders looked for the finer points.
Comparing their ways of exerting force, Miao Yang shook his head at Cheng Ye's crude stance, which looked as amateurish as it came.
"Come on. Give it everything you've got. Don't hold back."
Cheng Ye didn't answer.
Before Miao Yang had even finished speaking, Cheng Ye's thigh muscles tensed. He sank his hips, drove off the ground with his left leg, and the soles of his sneakers shrieked against the floor.
He charged forward like a ferocious tiger descending the mountain, his right fist following his momentum straight toward Miao Yang's face.
But the instant the air split with a sharp whistle, Miao Yang moved too.
Cheng Ye saw a blur before his eyes. The target he'd locked onto had already shifted to his left.
What the hell? He's that fast?
When he'd sparred with Liu Bi earlier, Cheng Ye had at least been able to see his movements. Just now, everything had blurred before his eyes, and Miao Yang had already slipped to the side.
No, was that an early read?
Cheng Ye's eyelid twitched. He hurriedly pulled back his fist and switched to a whipping kick.
But as soon as his knee rose halfway, Miao Yang darted beside him and gave his lower back a light shove with one hand. Cheng Ye's foot kicked empty air.
Seeing the distance between them widen, Cheng Ye had no choice but to follow up, sending a powerful straight punch whistling forward.
To his surprise, Miao