[Critical Copy Activated.]
[Jima Wrestling is being absorbed.]
Ye Chen stood there, his heart racing, a mix of shock and elation coursing through him. It felt like a dream—a twist of fate that he had almost forgotten. But here it was, an unexpected critical hit copy shining brighter than his past victories.
Was it the intensity of his knee strike that triggered it? Or perhaps it was the moment of final surrender that beckoned this extraordinary occurrence? Regardless, Ye Chen had little time to dwell on the hows and whys; the bliss of triumph enveloped him like a warm embrace. He had won.
And this time, his parents were watching him live, a rare treat that made the victory even sweeter.
Before stepping into the ring, Ye Chen had reached out to a friend in the village. He asked him to help teach his parents how to tune in to the live game. Worried about their son's safety, they could hardly bear the thought of him being hurt. But Ye Chen didn't want them to fret. He looked to them not just to showcase his prowess but to reassure them. He wanted them to see that their son was capable, that he could stand tall and support his family, bringing joy and pride to their lives.
…
As he stepped into the ring, an unspoken rule lingered: when a fighter feels pain, it usually signals a serious injury. The adrenaline rush that athletes experience often dulls the impact of minor injuries—like a cut or a few hard punches. But the moment one truly feels pain, it's a warning that things might only get worse after the match.
Jima embodied resilience, pushing through the battle even when his body screamed in agony. Many fighters might have called for a stop after sustaining such a knee injury, but not Jima. Clutching his compromised shoulder, he fell to Ye Chen, a testament to his stubborn spirit.
Ye Chen pondered this moment, recognizing it as a reflection of his own limitations. Jima may have been unaware of just how much harm he had sustained, yet it undeniably affected his strength and speed. It fueled Ye Chen's resolve. His techniques, especially his fall protection and wrestling skills, would need much refining if he were ever to face opponents like the Eagles, masters of wrestling control.
At that moment, DC strolled over to Ye Chen, greeting him with an enthusiastic fist bump.
"I had no idea we'd cross paths so soon!" he exclaimed. "You've showcased your strength brilliantly. I think it's safe to say no one—myself included—expected you to be a master of ground techniques too."
Ye Chen shot back, confidence radiating from him. "As I mentioned before, my arsenal is vast, filled with surprises beyond what you can imagine. All I need is the right platform and fierce competitors to showcase what I have."
He paused, the electric energy in the atmosphere thickening. "So, Du Na, let the next game be against ranked players. Anytime, any place. I'm ready for a competition contract."
A wave of excitement swept through the room, sparking cheers and applause from the audience.
"Who would have thought?" someone in the crowd exclaimed. "This Eastern fighter is a force to be reckoned with—better than the legends of old!"
"Amazing! If only I had known he possessed such ground skills, I would have placed my bets on him!"
His supporters rallied around him, voices mingling in encouragement. "I'm rooting for you! Don't let us down!"
And amid the enthusiastic clamor, the joy of winning became infectious. A nearby father turned to his daughter, trying to temper his excitement.
"Careful now, don't get too carried away! You just won big!" she remarked, slightly exasperated.
"What do you know? It's not just about the money!" he shot back. "It's about believing in him when others didn't. If he wins, we win! In fact, I'm going to ask him for his address after this; I have a gift for him!"
Back on stage, Ye Chen basked in the cheers that surrounded him. DC spoke again, leaning in with curiosity. "What's next for you? Any particular player you have your eyes on for your next match?"
Ye Chen took a moment to reflect, then replied with earnest conviction, "I don't have a specific plan in mind. I emerged from this match unscathed, so I'm ready, no matter who steps into the ring against me—even if it's a substitute.
I just crave the competition."
His resolute words struck a chord with the audience. Don't fight fans crave nothing more than to see heart-pounding clashes in the ring?
Before the show concluded, Ye Chen borrowed DC's microphone. He leaned closer to the camera, his voice resonating clearly in Daxia dialect. "Mom, Dad, even if I'm not around, please take care of yourselves. I'll manage just fine. No need to worry about me."
With that heartfelt message delivered, he exited the Octagon. He picked up his clothes and towel, wiping the remnants of the blood from his body, then donned his attire as he made his way through the crowd.
As he passed Gazi and Burns in the front row, Ye Chen stepped forward, hugging them warmly, exchanging congratulations and plans to celebrate together later. With camaraderie shared, he continued on backstage.
Now, as he neared the exit, the audience buzzed with renewed enthusiasm. Hands reached out for him as he navigated his way through, fists pumped in exhilaration from eager fans.
And then, it happened—a hand clutched his arm.
Turning around, he was met by a cheerful, burly man sporting a thick beard, eyes glimmering with excitement. "Ye Chen, can I get your address? You made me a winner today! I want to send you a gift!"
Ye Chen felt a rush of confusion. While it was common for celebrities and fighters to receive gifts from fans, this was an entirely new experience for him.
Beside the man, his daughter pulled out her phone, attention keen. "Please, share your address! I'll remember it," she urged eagerly.
And in that moment, amidst the cheers and the warmth of newfound connection, Ye Chen realized that his journey was just beginning—full of challenges, triumphs, and the unwavering support of fans who believed in him.