The figure in light blue clothes darted left and right, occasionally using his palm to dissolve the punches coming at him.
Ye Haoming swung his chubby fist several times, only to hit the air, his eyes ablaze with frustration, and fine sweat beads appeared on his forehead.
With his flat nose, he took a deep breath, staring viciously at the person in front of him, gritting his teeth and said fiercely, "I just don't believe I can't hit you."
He stretched out his chubby leg for a kick forward, but the motion was neither wide nor fast, so the opponent easily dodged it.
Beside them was a small lake, surrounded by a sturdy wooden railing.
The Little Traitor leaped, approaching the railing, taking slight risks, stepping lightly to lead the chubby man to the safety of the open ground.
It wasn't that he was in danger, but he feared the Little Fatty might fall in.
