Level 1:

Sam eyed the burly giant of a man. He clenched his fists. In one deft motion, he crossed
the space between them and lashed out with a left jab towards his temple. Sam pivoted on
his right foot and barely managed to move out of the way. Moving with surprising agility
for a man of his size, the giant spun around as he flung his right fist towards Sam in a
reverse haymaker. He defended with a forearm, but the impact sent him flying into a book
shelf. Seeing blood, he stepped forward and finished him off with a cross hook to the chin.
This is a rookie mistake that I see often. DO NOT assume that your readers can read your
mind. You have the scene playing out in your head, but nobody else knows what you’re
seeing. Who does ‘he’ refer to? Sam? The burly man?

Level 2:

Sam eyed the burly giant of a man warily, clenching his fists as adrenaline surged through
his veins. In one deft motion, the brute crossed the space between them and lashed out
with a left jab. Sam pivoted on his right foot and barely managed to move out of the way.
Displaying surprising agility for a man of his size, the giant spun around as he flung a
right hammer fist in a reverse haymaker. Sam defended his jaw with a forearm, but the
impact sent him flying into a book shelf. As he took a moment to regain balance on
wobbly knees, the last thing he saw was four walnut-sized knuckles and the ground
rushing to meet his face.
The narration is much easier to follow here with minimal guessing games for your
readers. But you’re spoonfeeding information. It makes for easy reading, but you’re not
challenging your readers.

Level 3:

Sam eyed the burly giant of a man warily, clenching his fists as adrenaline surged through
his veins. In one deft motion, the brute crossed the space between them and lashed out
with a left jab. Sam pivoted on his right foot and barely managed to move out of the way.
Displaying incredible agility for a man of his size, the giant spun around as he flung a
right hammer fist in a reverse haymaker. Sam defended his jaw with a forearm, but the
impact sent him flying into a book shelf. As he took a moment to regain balance on
wobbly knees, he saw four walnut-sized knuckles coming towards him fast. Sam never
liked walnuts. Mum used to put them in his cereals all the time. They would leave a bitter
paint-like taste on his tongue and it would take two days of incessant, nearly obsessive,
mouth rinsing with Listerine Mouthwash Cool-mint UltraClean to finally get the accursed
scent off his tastebuds. This will be the last time, he thought to himself, before slurping the
cereal. It tasted strangely different this time. Instead of the nausea-inducing cloying aroma
of drying paint, he was met with an equalling revolting metallic taste.

Blood.

He opened his eyes. The dull-grey linoleum floor of the library stared back at him, as he
called out meekly for Mum to change his cereals.
It takes a bit of inference from your readers to realise that Sam was knocked out here.
And unlike the 1st passage, this is intentional.

Understanding what your readers can or cannot infer is the key to good writing. Your
readers cannot read your mind, but do not make a mockery of their intelligence by
describing everything literally.