"Master, I have a question." Suddenly, a middle-aged man spoke up.
The fellow looked every part the successful person, complete with that certain veneer of politeness unique to prosperous times. It was just that his tone of speaking grated on the nerves, like the uncomfortable sensation of fingernails scraping across glass.
"Speak, what don't you understand?" Master Feng turned his head, his face a mask of authority.
However, in such a manner, there always seemed to be a sense of bravado that didn't quite reach the eyes, Zhao Guang thought curiously.
"Master, why is it that every time you execute the 'Swift Wind Furious Five Whip Technique,' the movements are different?"
