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114 Help punching

"What, teacher, for a while?" Jack stopped and ran his hand up and down his wrist, "I never heard of that."

Bruce said, "Just wait until she gets back." With that, he picked up the grip ring he'd dropped and squeezed it back.

Jack then got a better look.

Bruce's meditation wasn't just any meditation, he looked like he was sitting there nice and relaxed, but he wasn't. His hands, all the while, held two grip rings. At this point in the 20th century, the internal grip ring, despite the quality, was better than it would have been in years to come.

Bruce did so, his hands clenching around the grip. The gelatinous grip rings had a strong, leathery smell.

Hold it, once, twice, it's okay, but keep squeezing it so tight and you'll run out of strength.

Bruce, on the other hand, just kept squeezing, holding, making a fist, holding tight.

"No wonder it's so strong, my sister didn't ask you to help with the punches!"

"Boosts? Something lik

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