Actor in Hollywood

Over the past two months, it felt as though Anson had been transported back to his childhood.

Back then, he was frail and had to exercise to strengthen his body. However, the training was tough, and he often struggled to persevere, refusing to continue while tears welled up in his eyes, clinging to his lashes.

His mother, filled with compassion, would say, "Rest for a while, then. Just take a break."

His father, on the other hand, couldn't stand it and would argue with his mother, but ultimately, he couldn't win against her. Frustrated, he would mutter something about how "a doting mother spoils her child" and then storm off.

That would give Anson a brief moment of reprieve.

Even now, if he closed his eyes, he could still smell the dry scent of summer air mixed with the aromas of watermelon, soda, and cotton candy. The cicadas' chirping somehow made the world feel peaceful, and he always loved running around barefoot, the sound of his footsteps and his joyful laughter lingering under the clear blue sky. Those moments seemed frozen in time.

Of course, with his inconsistent training—three days of effort followed by two days of rest—he only managed to develop a superficial level of fitness, something that looked impressive but lacked substance. Still, his physical condition improved significantly, and he discovered some hidden athletic abilities, bounding around energetically.

He never imagined that after all these years, he would be training again, starting from the basics. But this time, he couldn't afford to slack off or act spoiled.

Anson was indeed very focused and dedicated, not just for the role of "Spider-Man" or for his acting career, but also as a way to revisit those deeply buried childhood memories and relive those moments.

The pain and toil of sweating through the training seemed to become something he could even enjoy.

At this moment, standing in front of Matt Damon, Anson was definitely not someone with mere superficial skills. Matt might have underestimated Anson, but hadn't Anson also underestimated Matt?

However, after being thrown to the ground twice, Matt had sobered up. He no longer underestimated Anson and was fully prepared, both mentally and physically, with his fighting spirit quietly igniting.

Though his boasts were one thing, in reality, Matt was not taking this lightly at all. He was fully alert, and this time, he didn't rush to attack.

The lessons from the previous two attempts taught Matt that impatience often leads to losing the upper hand. He needed to stay patient.

So, Matt waited, waited for Anson to make his move.

Here it comes!

Matt felt a surge of excitement as he sensed Anson's force reaching his chest during their tussle. Then… Anson exerted his strength, causing Matt's adrenaline to spike instantly—

This was his chance.

Matt planned to mimic Anson's technique, using it to deflect Anson's force. He flipped his right hand to grab Anson's wrist, ready to counter, but then he felt Anson's wrist pressing against the base of his palm, pulling a quick move. Not only did Anson escape, but he also locked Matt's wrist, sending a wave of pain through him.

He couldn't exert any force.

Matt was startled. What was going on?

He quickly looked up, only to see Anson's face, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. That smile clearly said, "Got you." Before Matt could react, he felt an overwhelming force crash into his chest like a tidal wave, breaking his balance in an instant.

Ugh.

With a grunt, Matt was thrown backward, landing flat on his back with his arms and legs spread out. His back tingled with numbness, and he even forgot the pain as every muscle and cell in his body protested in unison.

Nick was left speechless.

He wasn't surprised by the effectiveness of Chinese martial arts, nor was it news to him that Matt had been bested. What shocked him was how effortlessly Anson had overpowered Matt, even when Matt was fully on guard. Yet Anson remained calm, as if he had merely exchanged pleasantries.

A chuckle erupted from nearby, and Nick quickly turned his head.

Zhang Sheng, his face serious, stared straight ahead, as composed as a meditative monk, showing no reaction to what had just happened, nor to Nick's gaze.

Nick: ?

"Matt, are you okay?" Anson's question broke the silence.

It was only then that everyone noticed Matt still lying on the ground, not getting up, unlike the previous two times. Had Matt really hurt himself?

…No way, right?

Matt lay there, spread out in a large "X" shape, motionless. When he heard Anson's question, he didn't respond verbally but simply raised his right hand and waved it.

His breathing was heavy and rapid.

It seemed that after being thrown to the ground three times, Matt truly needed a moment to catch his breath.

With a swift kip-up, Matt got back on his feet. The playful smile was gone, replaced by a serious expression. His eyes were now ablaze with determination. It was clear—his competitive spirit had been ignited, and he was in a completely different state.

Was he embarrassed? Maybe just a little.

Actually, what's more important is being "completely overwhelmed."

Matt never expected that he would be knocked down like a Barbie doll, not just once but three times in a row, all in the first round.

In boxing, that's three "KOs."

After a month of hard training, is this really all Matt has to show for it?

Taking a deep breath, Matt looked up at Anson, "To be honest, it's a bit of a blow to my ego. I'm ready to give it my all. What do you think? No problem, right?"

Unintentionally, there was a hint of pride in his words, his lips curling up slightly, and his eyes shining with a different light.

Anson replied, "Can I refuse?"

Matt: ???

This isn't how it's supposed to go.

In movies and TV shows, isn't it always like this? Two people engage in an honorable duel, everything is straightforward and above board, heroes respecting heroes, filled with a righteous spirit. Matt issues the challenge, and Anson should readily accept it with enthusiasm.

Isn't that right?

Matt: "Uh..."

Anson shrugged, "I'm not even a formal student here, just an enthusiast. Why are you so serious with me? Why not challenge the real deal?"

Following Anson's gaze, Matt saw someone in the crowd who looked like they were watching a theater performance, just missing a bowl of seeds and a soda. Suddenly exposed under the spotlight, the person blinked in surprise, completely caught off guard.

Anson's eyes showed a trace of amusement. This wasn't revenge—it couldn't be that simple. It was just a small prank, a bit of payback.

Then Anson refocused his attention, "But someone as handsome and kind-hearted as me, how could I bear to refuse? I'll reluctantly accept."

Matt: Pfft.

He couldn't hold it in and burst out laughing, while even Zhang Sheng felt his face twitching.

Despite everything, Matt and Anson began their fourth bout of pushing hands. After just five seconds, Matt once again flew out like a gliding waterbird.

Even though Matt had already given it 120% and was fully prepared, the outcome was the same. This time, he simply stayed on the ground—

Was he unable to get up or just didn't want to?

In fact, this time Matt had been patient and cautious enough, going three rounds with Anson, waiting for him to exert force before trying to pull his wrist and push him out. But unexpectedly, Anson pulled him back.

Gentle, firm, and accommodating.

Anson's strength and Matt's strength intertwined like a yin-yang symbol, with Anson losing balance and falling forward one second, only to pull himself back in the next. He used both their strengths to take advantage of Matt's momentary loss of balance, pulling him forward.

Matt simply went with the flow, putting all his weight into crashing into Anson, but Anson sidestepped, pulled, and pushed, redirecting all the force back onto Matt himself. Losing balance, Matt flew out again.

Smack.

Face-plant.