And then she saw...
Chen Yan, bare-chested and drenched in sweat, with his veins bulging...
He was holding the horse stance.
His legs were spread apart as he stood, his arms stretched out straight, fists clenched. He was gritting his teeth, determined to hold on.
Meanwhile, Zhao Ying held a small wooden stick in his hands, circling around Chen Yan with his arms crossed over his chest. Whenever he saw Chen Yan's posture slipping, he'd flick the stick at him.
Just as Chen Yan's left arm began to falter, sinking down, Zhao Ying's hand jerked, and with a sharp "smack," Chen Yan's arm was struck firmly.
Instantly, Chen Yan grimaced, "winning" in pain, and quickly lifted his left arm again.
Zhao Ying also shouted, "Hold on! Just one more minute!"
Chen Yan roared back immediately, "Got it! Master!"
Zhao Ying nodded, apparently satisfied, and began to pace with the stick in hand once more.
