With all his accomplishments, is he really still unable to find a partner? The reason he avoided mentioning Catwoman was due to the fact that she is a foreigner, and they've only been together for a few months. They hadn't conversed about the future in any deep sense yet, making it difficult to explain to his parents without raising false hopes. "The end."
At that moment, Ye Chen was warming up while the cheers and shouts from the commentators echoed through the live broadcast. Surprised, he glanced upward. Was tonight's pace really that fast? The main event against Makhachev was approaching quickly. Just then, his phone buzzed with a message.
It was Catwoman. "I've just arrived at the arena. Are you about to go on stage? I'll be backstage shortly to support you."
Ye Chen replied, "I told you, there's no need to come. Just watch the live broadcast at home. Are you tired? You just got off the plane and came straight to the stadium…"
"No way! I want to see it live. Just try to win, or else I'll have to give you a hard time," she typed back.
"Do your best," Ye Chen texted back.
To be honest, this match was the most nerve-wracking he had ever faced—not just due to the championship belt on the line, but because of the Eagles and Makhachev. They were not just any competitors; each member had an undefeated record.
Kitty Hawk stood at 29-0, while Makhachev recorded 23-1. Kitty's two cousins were formidable champions as well, with a 16-0 record in Bellator and a 15-0 in the UFC rankings. Could one possibly say they lacked strength? Absolutely not. This speaks volumes about their intense training, strategic execution, and techniques.
Going against such an intimidating team, Ye Chen's game plan was built on being stable and cautious. This was the first time Catwoman had seen him express such sentiments before a match, and it instantly worried her. "You can definitely do it; I believe in you," she reassured him.
Meanwhile, the enemy team was busy strategizing. Xiaoying was holding up a boxing target as Makhachev warmed up for target practice. Coach Mendes chimed in, "Excellent work, Islam. You're in great condition today. Remember, don't give Ye Chen a chance. He thrives on seizing opportunities; any mistake could cost you the match."
Makhachev nodded. Following his past defeat and years of competition, he had developed a remarkably steadied mentality. Xiaoying continued, "He's not just good at seizing chances; he has improved significantly in each bout. It seems like earlier opponents didn't completely exploit his potential.
Our tactic is straightforward: if a solid opportunity doesn't arise, don't risk the fall. And ensure to keep an eye on his low sweeps; he'll likely try to chop your legs to disrupt your movement."
The mood among Makhachev's team was decidedly tense. Previously, only Makhachev had been in the spotlight. Now, with the looming threat of Ye Chen, anxiety filled the air, especially for Xiaoying, who had trained alongside Maha for over twenty years. Outwardly calm, he was still deeply concerned.
Maha maintained a determined expression, stating, "I won't let him have any chances."
At that point, the co-main event was rapidly nearing another knockout, and the countdown for their match was about to commence. Xiaoying motioned for several bearded members of the team to gather around. Together, they formed a circle, Praying Low-key while encircling Makhachev.
"Anhan Dulila."
Maha pointed his index finger to the sky and softly repeated the phrase, seeking divine favor.
On the other side, Ye Chen readied himself for the fight. Jackson followed closely behind. "Let's do this," he said, his voice betraying a hint of apprehension. He had placed bets numerous times, and since Ye Chen's arrival, he had wagered on him twice, winning substantially on each occasion.
This time, Makhachev's odds were -400, while Ye Chen stood at +285. Spinach was clearly favoring Makhachev in this bout, despite Ye Chen's eight-game winning streak. Sensing Jackson's unusually quiet demeanor, Ye Chen murmured, "Let's go."
Catwoman stayed close, still wearing her mask and hat.
As soon as Ye Chen stepped into the arena, laughter erupted from the crowd. The boos were deafening, even louder than he had anticipated. While the prince admired the contest, his favor leaned towards Maha, drawing support from the audience who shared a similar background.
Ye Chen foresaw this reaction. "Aren't they like the audience in your beautiful country who booed me at the start? Just not quite as loudly. If I win tonight, I doubt they'll boo so much."
Catwoman paused, considering his words. She had seen Ye Chen tackle various challenges and noticed a pattern—every victory seemed to garner quieter boos and booming cheers. By now, Ye Chen had morphed into a superstar in the fighting realm, commanding overwhelming support even against a former champion like Oliveira. It was clear: respect in this world was earned within the ring.
Back in Yanghe Village, Northwest, Ye Chen's home was buzzing with excitement. Since the digital game required a fee, he ensured that his parents had their subscriptions and asked the younger villagers to help them get settled with the technology. Roughly thirty or forty people crowded the modest living room, while others stood nearby.
"Come on, come on," they urged. "Xiaochen is making everyone proud."
"What's up with this crowd? They seem so unwelcoming," one asked.
"It's risky to watch these fights. Last fight, the guy was beaten so badly he could hardly move. I've heard Xiaochen's opponent hails from Xiong country. Those folks are fierce competitors," someone commented nervously.
"I read he hasn't lost in seven years, and he sports a massive beard," another added.
"Didn't you catch Xiaochen's last fight? I saw it on Douyin. He took down seven or eight guys in just a minute."
"That's just a flashy edit! They only let Xiaochen show off a little so it looked good. Beating seven or eight guys in a minute? What can you do against a hundred?"
"Easy now, don't be scared," Ye Jianguo interjected, taking a sip of tea. "Just watch the TV—no need to fret."
But the concern was mutual; Ye Chen's mother, who didn't quite understand the sport but felt the mounting tension in the room, was on edge, especially with the grim talk about competitors. She nearly called Ye Chen for reassurance before his father could stop her.
As Ye Chen approached the octagonal cage for the fight, he took a pause, inhaling deeply before stepping toward his corner. Behind him, Catwoman shouted softly through the cage net, "Go for it! No matter how the crowd feels, I believe in you!"
He turned, meeting her gaze for a brief moment before nodding in acknowledgment.
Meanwhile, cheers erupted for Makhachev as the announcer introduced him. "Next up is the undisputed lightweight world champion, Islam Makhachev!" At that moment, the lights cut out completely.
Chants of "Khabib! Khabib! Khabib!" resonated. "Islam! Islam! Islam!"
It was notable that while Kitty Hawk had long since retired, his fame eclipsed that of Makhachev's, showing the impact of his legacy on the audience. The presentation was as grand as it was intricate, with lights synchronizing to each step Makhachev took toward the cage.
As he entered the ring, Makhachev faced the audience, arms outstretched, index finger raised, amplifying the crowd's enthusiasm to a peak.
Glancing at Ye Chen, Makhachev offered him a small nod of recognition, which Ye Chen mirrored. Xiaoying and Mendes stood nearby, discussing their strategy with Makhachev.
"Tonight's finale is a lightweight championship contest…" the announcer echoed, building anticipation.
Baffo, a commentator, made his way towards Ye Chen, announcing, "Today's challenger is from Daxia, known as the Terminator. He has conquered all eight of his UFC battles and finished every opponent, earning acclaim as a rising star in the sport."
This statement was met by an avalanche of boos, even louder than before — a sign that UFC viewers hadn't yet embraced him.
In Daxia's live broadcast room, viewership broke records, especially since promotional intensity was far higher than any previous fights.
Commentator No. 1 remarked, "The audience is quite loud with boos aimed at Ye Chen…"
Commentator No. 2 added, "Remember, booing at away games has become commonplace in competitive sports. They might not harbor genuine ill feelings toward him but are instead rallying for their local champion."
Commentator No. 3 concluded, "Yes, let's hope that Ye Chen won't let this affect him. Some athletes let boos get under their skin."
Reflecting on the earlier mentioned Zhang Weili, the commentators recalled her initial title defense against Rose, where the boos impacted her gameplay initially.
Ye Chen considered these words. At first, he thought Zhang was making excuses, but as events unfolded, he recognized that even top performers could be swayed by external pressures. However, Zhang had since matured and reclaimed her title, exhibiting the strength of character Ye Chen aspired to embody.
In the lively chat, people spoke candidly about Xiaoying, sharing their disdain, while expressing unwavering support for Ye Chen.
Baffo's voice boomed, "Next, we bring forth our lightweight champion, the P4P No. 1, and the one undoubtedly considered the strongest in the division—welcome Islam Makhachev!"
As soon as the announcement finished, Makhachev raised his hand high, signaling for the audience's applause.
The atmosphere swelled with relentless chanting, "Islam! Islam! Islam!" Their enthusiasm surged, mimicking a well-rehearsed performance.
The referee soon called the two fighters forward, sharing the familiar rules. "Keep it clean. If I say stop, I need you to comply immediately."
Both fighters nodded in recognition. The referee continued, "If you wish to touch gloves, now is the time. If not, head back to your respective corners, and we'll kick off the match."
They bumped fists, the tension palpable. Soon, the match began.
Both fighters entered the cage cautiously, occupying the center but maintaining a fair distance from one another. Makhachev, known for his counterattacking style, started on the defensive. Yet Ye Chen mirrored his caution, an unexpected adjustment that caught Makhachev off guard.
He reached out, testing Ye Chen's defenses. Ye Chen reverted to his normal stance. With two fists barely brushing against each other, they quickly withdrew, with time slipping away.
For over forty seconds, neither fighter made a significant move. Each tested the waters, but Makhachev felt frustrated by this dynamic shift; the heavy caution reflected the respect Ye Chen had for his abilities.
The palpable tension built, and with murmurs expanding into discontent from the audience, a few began to voice their impatience.
Nevertheless, Ye Chen remained unfazed, treating any booing as background noise. He recognized this moment as a crucial opportunity and approached it with utmost diligence.
Then, with a sudden burst of energy, Makhachev lunged forward, executing a swift maneuver aimed at Ye Chen's midsection. With years of prepared simulations, the fight they were about to engage in was already turning. It would be his chance to shine.