The gangster spat out a mouthful of saliva, which went straight into Song Huai's face.
"Wow! Your moves are so dirty?!"
Song Huai, who was a bit of a germaphobe, quickly dodged. The thought of being spit on made him feel sick.
"Pooh! Pooh! Pooh!"
Song Huai had already turned around and ran away. The saliva he drooled at was actually smoking when it hit the ground. It seemed like he had a poisonous supernatural power.
Disgusting and harmful! Fortunately, the trajectory was not very far, otherwise Song Huai would have died under the opponent's spit.
Ji Chuan held his face with one hand, feeling very embarrassed.
Seeing Song Huai's embarrassed appearance, he quickly gave a reminder.
"Ah Huai, you are the God of Space! You must have your own imagination about your spatial abilities!"
He remembered what Xia Yiqing always said when teaching. This was a good way to guide students to actively use their superpowers.
"The imagination of space..."
Song Huai thought about this while running away in circles. The most intuitive thing about space is that it is like the "warehouse" in his mind, but does space have other manifestations...
For example, if he runs with his legs, should he be able to move through space? If I suddenly appear behind the opponent, can I catch him off guard?
Song Huai was observing the situation, and when he thought about it, he rushed into a black hole while running away.
The gangster was stunned; the target he was chasing just disappeared.
"Behind! Behind!"
The gangster's companion reminded him, but Song Huai had already punched the gangster in the back of the head.
“Ouch!”
The gangster cried out in pain, and he turned back and spat out a mouthful of saliva, but Song Huai's figure disappeared again.
He appeared on the other side of the gangster's head and continued to punch.
"Ahahahaha! Take Grandpa Song's punch, you toad!"
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