“I don’t get it,” Dips panted.
“Yeah, well, time is an illusion,” Dips smirked, adjusting his chain. “And Lil Dips operates on his own—"
“The illusion is that you have time to waste,” Aaron said, finally looking up. His eyes weren’t angry. They were worse. They were patient . “Sit.” lil dips meets master aaron
Dips wound up—a haymaker, all shoulder and ego. The punch was fast, wild. Aaron didn’t block it. He simply moved . His left foot slid six inches. The punch hit air. Dips stumbled forward, off balance, chest exposed.
Dips pushed open the door. The room was a long rectangle, mirrors on one wall, a single tatami mat in the center. No trophies. No banners. Just a man in a grey sweatsuit, sitting cross-legged, eyes closed. “I don’t get it,” Dips panted
“What are you doing, man?” Dips leaned back. “You’re wasting it.”
“You’re late,” Master Aaron said, not opening his eyes. His eyes weren’t angry
They stood facing each other. Aaron held a single padded focus mitt.