The Discarded Punching Bag

One measured blow at a time, he taught his body the alien pathway. Every ten punches, he recorded pain, speed, and the bag's arc. Han was smiling at first. Twenty minutes later, he was not. Lu increased from thirty percent to fifty. The bag was already swinging higher than it had during Han's warm-up. “Enough.” Luo Zhan stood at the entrance, scowling. “Former employees may not use club equipment.” Lu stopped and looked at the poster for the city qualifier. Open registration ended at midnight. “Coach Luo, the club is holding an open sparring assessment today. The winner receives a recommendation letter, correct?” Luo laughed. “You were just eliminated.”