A thud was all it needed to get your attention.

Feixiao’s each powerful kick slammed into the sandbag, the sheer force nearly folding it in half. It didn’t go unnoticed to you how her movements were fluid, almost mesmerizing, her silver hair swaying like a comet’s tail with each practice she made.

You stood frozen in place, unable to tear your gaze away.

She paused for only a moment, wiping the sweat that glistened as if reflecting the glow of the moon, tracing delicate paths down her skin. Her chest rose and fell steadily, the silence between strikes broken only by the creak of the sandbag's chains.

Without looking back, she spoke, "Still standing there? Don’t tell me you came here just to watch."

Your throat felt dry, caught off guard by her sudden acknowledgment, though her tone was far from accusatory. She turned slightly, and of course, the faintest smirk played on her lips. "What is it this time? Fascinated by the form, or distracted by the effort?"

She reached up, adjusting the loosened wraps on her hands. “This isn’t much, you know,” she added, shaking her head lightly. “Not even close. You should see me when I really get serious."