The sharp fighting skills let Meng Lang realize that the "circle" Fan Shigang talked about was indeed essentially different from the so-called masters on Douyin.
"Too slow, your movements give away your weakness at a glance; is this how your master taught you?"
"You're training your legs, yet your lower stance is still so weak!"
"All head and no backside; do you only know how to protect your head?"
"Bang! Bang bang! Bang bang bang!"
The powerful and heavy whip kicks continued to pelt like a storm against the arm, leg, and chest guards, occasionally accompanied by Yan Weiwei's verbal taunts.
With his hands cradling his head, Fan Shigang, who had been turned into a human punching bag, was inwardly crying out in misery.
He had just been carelessly kicked in the unprotected arm, and he guessed it was probably bruised.
There were also several kicks aimed at his head; if he hadn't been wearing a head guard, he reckoned he would've been concussed by now...
