Hardly Any Difference

"Oh, one more thing," Ding Naiqing said, his face scrunched up in a grimace. "Ran-jie, if I beg for mercy, you can't hit me anymore."

Tu Ran couldn't help but laugh. She nodded in agreement. "Alright, got it. Can we start now?"

Ding Naiqing gave a weak nod. "Y-yeah, I guess."

Tu Ran's gaze turned sharp in an instant.

Ding Naiqing: Is it too late to back out now?

What was he supposed to do? He could already see himself getting beaten black and blue.

A punch came flying at his face. Ding Naiqing sidestepped, then bent his elbow and drove it back as they passed each other.

"Not bad," Tu Ran praised aloud.

The two exchanged blows on the platform, their movements so fast they were a blur, their strikes heavy enough to whip up a gust of wind.

For those watching below, it was a feast for both eyes and ears—they could only catch afterimages of each move and the thud of bodies colliding.

That kind of skill was beyond what any of them had achieved.

Tu Ran had made quite a name for herself these past few days, so they recognized her and knew she was formidable. But this young man sparring with her was just as tough, which caught them off guard.

People below had already started whispering about who the young man fighting Tu Ran was.

There were plenty of Pioneer Team members at the morning training, and they were quick to clear things up. "He's also from the Pioneer Team. His name is Ding Naiqing."

"The Pioneer Team really is full of talent," someone remarked.

The more Tu Ran fought, the more excited she became, because Ding Naiqing was such a perfect opponent. He wasn't like those weaklings—Zhou Ming and his bunch—who crumbled after one hit, nor was he so strong he was untouchable, like Xie Xu.

They were on roughly the same level. Sparring with him, she could use every move in her arsenal and unleash her full potential.

Tu Ran was thrilled, but Ding Naiqing was suffering.

Holding out against such intense attacks for this long was already his limit. Yet Ran-jie showed no signs of fatigue—her grip was still firm, her speed still fast.

He was about to give out.

"Ran-jie, I can't keep going," Ding Naiqing shouted during a brief opening.

Tu Ran hadn't had her fill, but they'd agreed that she would stop if he called it. She reluctantly pulled back.

"How are you? Doing okay?" she asked, concerned, noticing his flushed face.

"I'm fine," Ding Naiqing said, shaking his head and sitting down right on the floor. "Just a bit tired."

To the audience, stopping without a clear winner was a bit unsatisfying.

They started shouting at the platform, "Keep going! Why did you stop?"

Ding Naiqing: "?"

"Come on, anyone who wants to spar with Ran-jie, get up here! Shouting from the sidelines won't do anything!"

The crowd fell silent, everyone exchanging glances without a word.

Ding Naiqing shot them a glare, his eyes blazing with frustration. These people were so annoying—none of them dared to step up themselves, yet they were yelling for Ran-jie to keep pounding him.

How mean!

In the midst of the silence, one person raised a hand. "I'll give it a try."

Everyone turned toward the voice. It was a burly man at least two meters tall.

He wore a black tank top, and the muscles exposed were exceptionally thick, with veins bulging across them.

"That's Lu Huaiwei from Executive Department, A Division, 4th Squad."

"I heard he's close with Zhou Ming from A6 Squad. Zhou Ming was sent to the Medical Department with injuries by Tu Ran yesterday. Could this guy be trying to get revenge for his buddy?"

"Very likely. Apparently, this Lu Huaiwei took first place in the Executive Department guard fighting tournament, and he broke the arm of the runner-up. The runner-up still uses a mechanical arm now."