In the realm of combat sports, every fighter has their strengths and weaknesses, and Gage happens to excel in executing low sweeps with his right leg—although his left leg doesn't share the same prowess. Ye Chen, however, is unfazed by such limitations; he's not been hindered by the same troubles in the past. Over the last three months, he dedicated himself to mastering counter-techniques against Connor, adapting his stance as needed. The upright stance places his left leg forward with his left hand leading, while in the reverse stance, his right leg assumes the front position with his right hand dominating.
Connor, whose style hinges on counter-fighting, is conditioned to brace for heavy punches delivered by his lead left hand. Given that he often shifts his weight to his front legs, he becomes a prime target for low sweeps, which his past opponents found difficult to counter. For instance, Connor delivered a powerful punch in one round but found himself on the receiving end in the next. When he faced Diamond, who could withstand his heavy blows, Connor's front legs were subjected to multiple low sweeps due to his struggle with this technique.
After adjusting his stance, Ye Chen switched his front leg from left to right, necessitating enhanced flexibility in his left leg. His first two low sweeps were executed with his right leg, an accomplishment many would take years to achieve, yet Ye Chen thrived in his training, aided by a unique simulation space that amplified his practice. Recognizing the growing challenge, Naya, after being scanned by the simulation, promptly altered her own stance to a boxing position—one she effectively employed in her encounters with Xiao Ma and during the match against Diamond.
This adaptation stemmed from Connor's realization that his heavy punches alone wouldn't suffice to take down Xiao Ma. Switching to a more energy-efficient boxing stance allowed him to minimize exposure to low sweeps while maximizing his defensive capabilities. "Bang, bang, bang"—Connor unleashed his trademark combination: a front thrust followed by a back hook, finishing with an uppercut aimed at the stomach. Ye Chen, thoroughly attuned to Connor's style, utilized his wingspan—four centimeters longer than Connor's 188 cm—to evade the jab by shifting his torso.
However, when Connor unleashed a left hook with the ferocity of a cannonball, Ye Chen opted not to deflect it with his front hand. He anticipated that if holding it down were so effortless, every fighter would master it, and simply switching his stance wouldn't guarantee victory over Connor. Drawing upon his wingspan advantage and insight into Connor's rhythm, he raised his right arm, redirecting the left hook to collide with his shoulder instead.
Ye Chen, however, didn't escape unscathed; he felt the rush of air as Connor's belly punch connected, briefly stealing his breath away. Yet, seizing the moment, Ye Chen countered with a front hook that struck Connor squarely on the chin, rattling the latter's equilibrium. Although that punch was hastily thrown and lacked full power, it was enough to leave Connor reeling, his legs trembling as he fought to maintain his balance. Recognizing his opponent's disorientation, Ye Chen capitalized on this fleeting opportunity with a low sweep that sent Connor crashing to the mat.
A roar erupted from Ye Chen's fans, who were ecstatic at the sight. Was this another first-round knockout? Ye Chen's ferocity had impressed not only his supporters but also the trio of stunned commentators. Logan exclaimed, "Connor's been knocked down again! He's dazed, and if he tries to get back up now, his defense will be compromised!" Meanwhile, Catwoman, undeniably caught up in the excitement, clapped her hands and chanted Ye Chen's name with unabashed enthusiasm, her fangirl energy palpable.
Yet, the atmosphere shifted dramatically with Ye Chen's next move. Instead of pursuing Connor, who lay helpless on the mat, Ye Chen stepped back, spread his arms wide, and shrugged nonchalantly, seemingly uninterested in taking immediate advantage of his opponent's weakness. "What's he doing? Is this some sort of trick punch?" spectators wondered. "Hold on—Ye Chen is clearly aiming for five rounds; this could be a costly blunder." Some urged him to go for the knockout, feeling that a moment like this was rare and too valuable to squander.
Contrastingly, many fans recognized Ye Chen's intent: he was demonstrating martial ethics, preserving the integrity of the sport, and, crucially, providing entertainment. With this strategy, he aimed to captivate the audience and gain new followers. A glance at his socials revealed this approach was paying dividends; his follower count had surged to nearly 10 million, with numbers still rising.
Yet there was another reason behind Ye Chen's decision to stretch the fight to five rounds. His physical stamina had never been robust, and this bout against Connor served as an opportunity for him to acclimate to the prolonged exertion expected in longer fights—issues that would undoubtedly surface when facing off against opponents like Maha or even future super-battles.
Zui Pao, observing from the sidelines, marveled at Ye Chen's swift adaptation and targeted tactics. The absence of a formal team posed questions about the strategies being employed. It wasn't solely the team's fault; they could only devise plans based on the fighter's original technical framework, and fundamentally altering a fighter's established muscle memory and technique in just three months proved a Herculean task. Yet Ye Chen was an anomaly, learning at an extraordinary pace, embodying complexity beyond the average fighter.
He lacked a fixed fighting style; he could alter his punches dynamically while seamlessly transitioning between aggressive and evasive tactics throughout their exchanges. Connor, recognizing Ye Chen's adaptability, endeavored to dictate the pacing of the match through jabs and kicks, seeking both opportunities and tactical positioning in his favored distance control style.
As the round progressed, Connor unleashed a mid-section sweep, the strike landing forcefully just beneath Ye Chen's ribs, inciting immediate bruising. In retaliation, Connor attempted a kick to Ye Chen's supporting leg, following up with a knee strike. Sensing an opening, Connor struck with a jabbing punch, catching Ye Chen squarely on the forehead. Though the blow was formidable, Ye Chen absorbed it well, resilient against the claim of such a heavy punch. The encounter reminded him how dangerous Connor could be, with the latter's assumptions about his adversary quickly dispelled given that his previous victories were far from trivial.
Despite Connor appearing to nurse the pain from the earlier leg strike, he quickly regained composure. The desire to rally the audience surged within him, and like an encore performer, he turned to the crowd for their approval. As encouragement from the crowd erupted, air thick with anticipation and excitement, more than four minutes had elapsed in the first round.
Ye Chen, taking a strategic breath, pressed forward again, a move that relaxed Connor's previously tense demeanor. With that tension released, Connor unleashed his potential, revealing a blend of pent-up energy and the prowess expected from a fighter of his caliber. Simultaneously, the cheers of the audience swelled as they witnessed Connor expertly navigate the offensive assault from Ye Chen.
As the bell for the first round tolled, the last ten seconds saw Connor land a lateral kick attempting to secure last-minute points. Ye Chen, sensing the impending challenge, instinctively caught Connor's leg. The force of the blow sent a shiver through him, leading him to retaliate with a counterpunch aimed directly at Connor's nose—this impact promptly caused a trickle of blood to flow.
Just as Ye Chen prepared to unleash his follow-up strike, the round bell rang loudly. The coaching staff rushed to Connor's aid, ice in hand, assisting him while the doctor evaluated his condition. "Connor, stay focused. You need to put him down in the next round," his head coach advised fervently. "They know your stand-up game, but they're unaware of the hard work you've put into your wrestling and grappling skills."
Undeterred, Ye Chen stood across the cage, mentally processing the situation. He believed in his skills and overall strategy. When the door swung open for the second round, a familiar face slipped inside: Catwoman. She had opted to help Ye Chen just minutes before the first match began, grabbing his gear and evidently slipping under the radar of the event staff, who presumed her to merely be a supporter.
"Why are you here?" Ye Chen inquired, water bottle in hand as Catwoman toweled away his sweat. "Can't I come in? You wanting a drink or a towel?" she playfully retorted, leaning to clean Ye Chen as her eyes darted toward Connor.
"Shouldn't you be doing your thing and not hovering over me like this?" Ye Chen mused, recognizing an unexpected warmth in her presence.
Her demeanor shifted as she jested back, "Do you want a cold compress? That'd ease the hot seat you're in. By the way, you won't defeat him if you keep playing around."
A fleeting moment passed where Ye Chen sensed the genuine concern beneath the teasing tone. Faced with Catwoman's unexpected support, Ye Chen mused to himself about how lucky he'd be if she were indeed a long-term partner, always by his side.
But the playful moment was interrupted, and Catwoman's gaze fell away. "You know you're being a bit too flirty during a match, right?" she scolded, her tone mixing playful reprimand with underlying embarrassment.
As the audience caught on to the exchange, DC, making sense of the surprising development, remarked, "Is it just me, or is Ye Chen joking around? Is he flirting with her in the middle of a fight?" Suddenly, the on-screen camera pivoted to capture the casual moment unfolding, and a wave of disbelief washed over the spectators, raising eyebrows and prompting playful murmurs throughout.
Awareness quickly dawned on them, and Catwoman, blushing under the scrutiny, shot Ye Chen a look of exasperation. "Why do you always make things embarrassing when I'm around? I'm out of here…" she said, retreating with feigned annoyance.
As the second round commenced, Ye Chen regained his focus, asserting dominance in the center of the cage. However, a curious thing occurred: Connor refrained from pressuring him. Observant fans noted that in previous matches, Connor's strategy typically revolved around claiming the center first, cornering his opponent to leverage his exquisite range and precision.
Instead, it appeared as if Connor intended Ye Chen to take the first step. Realizing the shift in tactics, Ye Chen began to advance, only for Connor to pivot sharply, launching a high kick that forced Ye Chen dangerously close to the cage. With Connor now pushing the pace, jabs sliced through the air as he exerted his will with a tough combination designed to keep opponents at bay.
"There it is," Ye Chen thought, understanding Connor's approach. The legendary fighter thrived on dancing with his competitors and taking calculated risks, waiting for the opportune moment to unleash his devastating combinations.
A backhand punch feinted forward, sending a shiver of anticipation through the crowd. Connor's reputation for exploiting openings was well known; he struck where others faltered, consistently netting high accuracy with his barrage of attacks. He would feint, daze, and then strike, timing his blows with precision, and in that moment, as Ye Chen broke free, everything synched perfectly.
The blows began to fly as Connor and Ye Chen exchanged quick jabs, sweat and blood painting their faces as the stakes heightened. Their fists met in harmonious chaos, defying the laws of gravity as rapid combinations filled the air, leaving the spectators breathless.
In that round, both combatants found their rhythm, unwavered even as they endured each other's strikes. However, they remained aware of the precarious nature dictating their unfolding destinies. The crowd buzzed with excitement as their right hooks wound whirled through the air, culminating in a captivating battle cry that ignited the arena.
Freed from self-doubt, Ye Chen recalibrated his approach. With brisk clarity, he drew on his experience and knowledge, determining that he needed to innovate. A sudden influx of inspiration led him to withdraw his jab and transition into a defensive posture, utilizing both hands to guard his head against incoming shots as he signaled the beginning of a new tactic.
In one fluid motion, he shifted gears, thrusting his hip and executing a spectacular low sweep that struck Connor's legs hard, forcing him to instinctively dive low to grasp his ankles while the roar of the audience crescendoed around them.