Chenfeng Martial Arts Hall.
Sunlight penetrates through the windows, dividing the hall into a chessboard of intersecting light and shadow.
The training ground, over ten thousand square meters, resembles a boiling furnace, with punching winds and kicking shadows stirring up the dust in the beams of light.
In the eastern weapons area, a continuous metallic buzz breaks out like a swarm of bees, occasionally exploding into sparks with the clash of swords and knives.
Zheng Jiao stands by the weapon rack, watching Fang Qingyu practice the Horizontal Knife.
Finally, I understand why old Qin and Team Lin couldn't help but personally teach him.
No matter how Fang Qingyu practiced before.
As soon as I corrected him, he never made the same mistake again.
This feeling of instant understanding after teaching.
Is truly addictive.
Moreover...
It's very fulfilling.
"Hum..."
Fang Qingyu pants heavily, putting down the horizontal knife.
