Your Fist Against Your Pride

On the third exchange, Han shortened his right and whipped a hidden left hook. Lu had spent four months helping him perfect that trap. He did not retreat. He ducked into Han's chest and smothered the hook before it could accelerate. Panic appeared in Han's eyes. Now. Lu ground his right foot into the canvas. Force climbed through ankle, hip, and spine. Instead of copying Han's wide elbow, he fused the borrowed power with the compact punch he had developed through years of cramped sparring. His fist struck the center of Han's body protector. Bang! Han's feet left the floor. He crashed into the ropes, rebounded, and dropped to one knee. The gym went silent.