Bang!
Crack!
Hiss...
Little Fatty plopped onto the training room floor, his face and head covered in sweat, his training clothes soaked through.
He wiped the beads of sweat from his forehead with an odd expression and looked towards Tang Fei, asking, "Brother, what level are you at now? How come I can't even touch you?"
At Tang Fei's request, the brothers had a sparring session.
Little Fatty was on the offensive, and Tang Fei was on the defensive.
As a result, Little Fatty swung his hammer around for a long time but didn't even brush against Tang Fei's clothes.
He felt as though he wasn't fighting a person but a wandering soul or a ghastly specter...
Elusive and unpredictable.
Tang Fei sheathed his sword and looked at Little Fatty, who was exhausted and sitting on the ground resting, and spoke up, "What level do you think I am at now?"
