**"The Snap."**
A sharp crack echoed through the arena.
For a fleeting moment, absolute silence enveloped the crowd, as if time itself had paused, holding its breath.
And then, the commentary resumed—Logan excitedly exclaimed, "I bought it, wow!" while DC chimed in with, "Nice knee strike! Perfect timing—what a shame."
The atmosphere was electric, a tempest of emotions swirling within the packed venue. Just moments ago, the Octagon had witnessed a brutal clash that had everyone on the edge of their seats. But this—this fight promised nothing less than unrestrained ferocity from the start.
Yet amidst the adrenaline surge, Ye Chen felt a weight settle in his heart.
His big knee strike hadn't delivered the decisive blow he'd hoped for. In the simulation, he'd nailed that move more than half the time, but reality was a different beast entirely. In that rapidly shifting battlefield of the Octagon, few dared to raise a leg against a seasoned wrestler.
But Ye Chen, in a bold bid to inject some explosive dynamism into the match, had taken the risk. It had been a gamble, and luck was the fickle factor when tackling a wrestler's advance with a knee strike.
Despite his agility, his knee had merely grazed his opponent's shoulder. In that split second, he almost had him, but the opponent—a relentless force—was already angling for a hold on Ye Chen's thigh.
What followed was a flurry of pain for Jima, who found himself reeling from the impact, the agony coursing through his body rendering half of him numb. Instinct kicked in, though, and he clawed at the ground, struggling to escape. But wrestlers are tenacious; grappling his ankle, he surged to his feet, determined to topple Ye Chen.
Ye Chen fought valiantly for balance on one leg, longing to harness the momentum to throw a kick, only to realize that Jima was no greenhorn. The wrestler was experienced, blocking his every move, twisting the situation in his favor.
Before he knew it, Ye Chen found himself shoved against the cage with no way out. His heart raced as he lunged defensively, bracing against the netting to fend off Jima's infamous leg-hugging technique. A fight's ruthlessness echoed the age-old wisdom: an arm is no match for a thigh.
With fierce determination, Ye Chen shattered the hold that Jima had placed on him. Yet even as he pushed back, he sensed the overwhelming power of his rival. Wrestlers were like unstoppable forces of nature, and Jima was no exception. When Jima burrowed under his armpit and unleashed a series of short punches to his abdomen, the blows compounded the pressure.
Ye Chen had a plan; if standing didn't solve the quandary, he'd take the fight to the ground. It was a tactical retreat, all part of a grander scheme. He needed to convince Jima that he was cornered so that the wrestler would underestimate him, believing victory was easy.
"The stakes are high for Ye Chen," echoed the commentator. "He has few options left to turn the tide." DC nodded gravely, "It's a shame; he's missed his window. Jima is likely moments away from asserting his dominance."
And then it happened—like a bolt from the blue.
With a swift twist of his hips and shoulders, Jima propelled himself forward, crashing into Ye Chen and pinning him to the mat. The crowd erupted in deafening applause, their prediction fulfilled as they roared in approval.
"I knew it!" one fan shouted. "Daxia fighters don't stand a chance!"
"I placed thirty grand on Jima winning by TKO in the first round!" yelled another, practically bouncing in his seat.
Yet among the crowd, a silver lining emerged—supporters of Ye Chen, including Gazi and his crew, watched anxiously. They looked up to Ye Chen with unwavering loyalty, recalling how he had always stood up for them, even when the odds were against him.
But Ye Chen was resolute. As the fight hit the ground, he quickly wrapped his legs around Jima's back, locking in the hold. He clamped down on the wrestler's right arm, exerting every ounce of strength he had. Jima, still reeling from the impact, nestled his head against Ye Chen's chest, trying to regain control.
"Hustle, Jima!" shouted his coaching staff from the sidelines, their voices ringing in his ears. But it was too late. Ye Chen didn't give him a moment's reprieve.
In a burst of precision, he unleashed a barrage of elbow strikes against Jima's head. The wrestler, caught off guard, struggled to raise his defenses, his focus split between the encroaching blows and his corner's commands.
Before he could respond adequately, two sharp strikes connected. Blood spattered, staining Ye Chen's chest, turning the tides of the match in an instant.
The roar of the crowd dimmed, the shock palpable as they witnessed the unexpected turn. In mixed martial arts, being on top was an undeniable advantage—a truth that Jima was now painfully aware of.
With a calm undercurrent, Ye Chen locked into the rhythm he had perfected during countless simulations, methodically employing the moves he had mastered. Jima, wary of the elbow strikes, kept his head low in defense. Seizing the moment, Ye Chen raised his right leg, pressing it firmly against his opponent's left shoulder, applying relentless pressure to keep Jima down.
In this fierce dance of wills, it was clear—Ye Chen was just getting started.