What Was It Like to Spar with Your Teacher? (Please Keep Reading)

Beside him, Dong Qianqiu had only just opened her mouth when someone beat her to the punch before she could speak.

She turned to look at Nana standing at the front of the group, her expression freezing for a moment.

Well, well. Was Teacher Nana stealing her partner?

The students all turned toward Ye Zhiqiu, their eyes filled with surprise, curiosity, and the excitement of spectators who never minded stirring up more trouble.

"Teacher Nana is going to spar with Ye Zhiqiu?"

"Ye Zhiqiu is strong, sure, but she's a teacher..."

"Is he going to get beaten up badly?"

"Maybe she'll go easy on him."

Dong Qianqiu was stunned too. She had been about to tell Ye Zhiqiu, "We're sparring together today," only for Teacher Nana to swoop in and "claim him by force."

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but closed it in the end.

After all, the teacher had called on him. A student couldn't exactly fight her for a partner.

She glanced at Ye Zhiqiu. He didn't seem particularly bothered; he merely shrugged at her with an expression that said, "Nothing I can do about it either," then stepped out of the group.

"Yes, Teacher."

He walked over to face Nana, stopped about three meters away, loosened his wrists, and rolled his ankles.

The silver-haired teacher stood quietly before him, her hands hanging naturally at her sides. The hem of her light blue work shirt swayed slightly, her silver-white French braid rested over her shoulder, and her purple eyes watched him calmly.

Ye Zhiqiu could sense that her center of gravity was very low as she stood there, and her breathing was almost imperceptible.

"Physical strength only. No martial souls or soul skills," Nana repeated the rules she had given earlier.

"Understood."

Ye Zhiqiu wasted no more words and went straight into action.

He took a step forward. It wasn't particularly fast, but his stride was long, closing the distance between them in the blink of an eye.

Clenching his right fist, he drove it forward from his waist, using the very method of generating force they had learned over the past few lessons. The angle deviated slightly from the standard form, however, cutting diagonally in from the side toward Nana's shoulder and neck.

Nana turned slightly to avoid his fist. At the same time, her right hand swept up from below, rested against the inside of his forearm, and guided it outward.

Ye Zhiqiu felt a modest force coming from the point of contact, its direction crossing the line of force behind his punch at just the right angle.

It wasn't much force, but the angle was extraordinarily precise. With a deft touch, she dispersed most of the power in his fist and pulled his center of gravity slightly to the side.

His feet checked their movement as he steadied his balance. Rather than resisting her pull head-on, he followed its direction, sliding half a step diagonally forward while driving his left elbow upward toward Nana's ribs.

Ye Zhiqiu immediately realized that this teacher's technique was on an entirely different level from his—at least for now.

He adjusted his breathing. Instead of rushing into another wave of attacks, he stepped back to create some distance and studied Nana's stance and weight distribution again.

Nana didn't pursue him. She simply stayed where she was and waited for him to adjust.

Ye Zhiqiu noticed that little detail.

Someone else might have already charged in, flailing away with wild punches, but the clever genius Ye Zhiqiu certainly wouldn't do that.

He advanced again. This time, rather than leading with a punch, he took a step and feinted. His body seemed about to dart left, but by the time his foot touched the floor, his weight had already shifted right. The change in rhythm happened in an instant, turning the feint into a rush before he threw a right-handed punch at Nana's abdomen.

Nana reached out to block, pressing her palm against his fist. She turned aside, redirected his punch, and smoothly stepped half a pace forward, bringing the edge of her right hand down toward his shoulder.

Ye Zhiqiu immediately withdrew his fist, tucked his shoulder in, and sank down to avoid the strike. Then, using that downward momentum, he swept his left foot toward her legs.

Nana lifted her foot to avoid his sweep. They passed each other and opened up the distance again.

That exchange had lasted only four or five seconds.

Ye Zhiqiu retreated three meters away, let out a breath, and steadied his breathing again.

That exchange had given him a clearer understanding of the gap between himself and Nana. The difference in their handling of the finer details was enormous.

There had been nothing unnecessary in Nana's responses. Every move came at precisely the crucial moment.

Ye Zhiqiu could tell that she could easily have put him on the floor during that exchange, but she hadn't. Instead, she was "teaching" him.

Every attack gave him enough time to react, and every block left him room to maneuver.

Ye Zhiqiu stepped forward again. This time, he abandoned complicated feints in favor of a more direct, faster combination of attacks.

His footwork was still the standard footwork they had learned over the past few lessons, and the rhythm of his hands and feet matched the requirements taught in class. Only the small adjustments to each movement were his own additions.

Nana continued to handle every move with ease.

Her movements remained compact, and her feet barely moved at all. Most of the time, she stayed in place, neutralizing all his attacks with nothing more than her palms and arms.

Occasionally, she counterattacked. Those strikes weren't fast either, and Ye Zhiqiu could dodge them, but he could sense that if they had been aimed at his vital points, he would never have avoided them.

A few more minutes passed, and the Gymnasium had fallen completely silent.

The other students had long since stopped sparring. They gathered in small clusters around the edge of the floor, watching the two exchange blows in the center with wide eyes.

"Ye Zhiqiu actually managed to fight a teacher for this long..."

"It's not just how long he's lasted. Doesn't it look like he's holding his own?"

"Can't you see she's been going easy on him the whole time? Whenever she attacks, he can barely block it..."

"But that's still pretty impressive, right? If you went up there, you'd probably go down in one move."

Dong Qianqiu stood at the front of the crowd with her arms folded, her deep blue eyes tracking Ye Zhiqiu's every movement.

She wanted to say something, but in the end, she merely pressed her lips together.

Why was the gap between her and that idiot Ye getting wider and wider? What was she supposed to do?

Just then, Nana suddenly took a step forward.

This step was different from her earlier movements. It was noticeably longer, and a little faster too.

First, she sent a knife-hand strike toward Ye Zhiqiu's right shoulder. When he turned sideways to evade it, her hand changed direction midway and pressed down on the arm he had raised to block.

Then she smoothly pushed forward. Ye Zhiqiu felt a steady, unhurried force coming from the point of contact, pushing his center of gravity back and forcing him to retreat two steps. By the time he regained his footing, Nana had already stepped back, her hands once again hanging at her sides.

"That's enough for today. Go back and run through what you just practiced in your head," Nana said.

Ye Zhiqiu loosened the arm she had pressed down on, caught his breath, and smiled. "Okay. Thank you, Teacher."

The Gymnasium remained quiet for a moment before a wave of hushed chatter and exclamations rose.

"Is it over?"

"Did the teacher win just now?"

"Obviously. What kind of question is that? Ye Zhiqiu got pushed back."

"But I think Ye Zhiqiu is already ridiculous. He fought her for so long without losing..."

Nana turned and swept her gaze over the other students. "Everyone else, start sparring too. Your break is already over."

At her words, the students who were still standing in a daze immediately snapped out of it and started looking for practice partners again.

Dong Qianqiu quickly walked over to Ye Zhiqiu and looked him up and down.

"Are you okay?"

"What could've happened? She wasn't hitting hard." Ye Zhiqiu rolled his shoulder as he spoke.

Dong Qianqiu huffed. "Do you know that while you were fighting her, several people in class were saying you're not even human?"

"Then they were complimenting how strong I am."

"They weren't complimenting you. They were saying you're absurd."

"Absurd is a compliment too."

Dong Qianqiu glared at him, but the corners of her mouth still curved upward. "You really are..."

"Devastatingly handsome?"

"Shameless."