Zhuo Yang knows the attack advantages of boxers. They are the strongest among all kung fu in punching and pace. The fist is fast, accurate and ruthless. A heavy punch hit is enough to make the opponent lose his combat power, especially in the amateur world.

Zhuo Yang knew that his punching speed and strength were very different from boxers of Gatuso's level, and his ability to fight was even more different. Once Gatuso was bullied to the close, he might not have to lie down in two rounds. He did not have much experience in confronting boxers, but he had watched some TV shows in the past domestic competitions. He felt that it was very effective to fight boxers with far kicks and closes, but he had never practiced them and felt completely unsure.

Gattuso's arms were swinging and his strength was very strong. Zhuo Yang had already felt it when they had a good relationship with each other. If he was allowed to enter his arms and perform a hook punch, his chin would be no different from tofu. Since it was a fight, Zhuo Yang would definitely not be so particular. He had to use any weapons at hand, which was his biggest advantage.

He used a mop to prevent Gattuso from getting close to him, and then used his leg technique to attack his lower plate. Zhuo Yang did not dare to say that he would win, this was his self-protection method to face the Eighth Master.

A sharp fighting spirit was released in his eyes, and Gatuso's eyes made people frightened. The solemn and majestic aura released around him completely crushed Zhuo Yang, but Zhuo Yang did not retreat. Although the center of gravity had moved quietly and was ready to sweep back at any time to stretch the distance, he did not retreat.

Zhuo Yang would not take action first, and Gatuso did not raise his arm, so he would not show off. The two of them were in a stalemate. Although they were not triggering it, Gatuso's main attacker and Zhuo Yang defended it, which was completely reversed with their responsibilities on the court.

"Forget it!" Gatuso suddenly withdrew his murderous aura. This kind of freedom is beyond the reach of ordinary masters. "I said I would not touch you in Milano."

Zhuo Yang did not answer the conversation, nor did he relax his vigilance.

"Let's do this, Zhuo Yang. Let's have a bet, how about?" Gattuso took two steps back as he spoke, and no longer aggressive.

"What are you betting on? Let's hear it."

"Let's find a place to have a fight, find a boxing gym or fighting club to get off the stage and fight, and you and I will fight secretly." At this time, Gattuso was like an old fox. "We gentlemen agreed that whoever loses will leave AC Milan at the end of this season."

Zhuo Yang smiled. He understood that Gattuso wanted to use it to drive him away and reshape his prestige in Milano. The idea was very good, but this was a bit too ridiculous, and he underestimated me Zhuo Yang too much.

"I won't fight you, and I won't leave AC Milan just because I lost to you." Zhuo Yang said: "Gatuso, I'm so old, why bother?"

"Haha, are you afraid of losing to me? If you are afraid, say it, and I will spare you if you say it."

"Maybe I can't beat you..."

"Of course you can't beat me, you don't have to doubt this." Gattuso snatched the conversation and released his murderous aura again to cooperate with his speech, perfect.

"... Maybe. But who knows if you haven't fought?" Zhuo Yang said: "But that's not the point. I don't want to fight you because fighting with you is of no value. And out of respect for AC Milan and the roundtable, I can't fight with you, either."

"She is the fucking round table, I'm not!" Gatuso's fierce leopard-like eyes showed pain.

"I can't beat the boss, so I'll give you a hard lesson. No matter how small the mosquito is, it will be..."
Chapter completed!