You Take the Dawn, I Take Your Foundation

In the past, Lu could only widen his stance and resist. Today he felt Zhao's weight sliding from left shoulder toward right foot. Lu retreated half an inch—not to flee, but to remove the post Zhao needed. Zhao's takedown crashed through a door that had vanished. Lu inserted his left foot, turned his hip, and used Zhao's momentum to pin him against the fence. Cheers became gasps. “Where did you learn to wrestle?” Zhao strained. “I started when all of you spent three years throwing me.” Lu kneed the thigh and separated. Wei's gift taught him stability, not the veteran's hardened body. Every extra second in the clinch endangered his ribs. Humiliated, Zhao shot again.