"Kamaru, how are you feeling?"
A palpable tension filled the air as Wusman's coaching team kept their eyes locked on his swollen feet. The reality of the situation was grim—both of Wusman's feet had taken a beating. Swiftly, they began applying ice cubes to mitigate the swelling and alleviate his pain. Wusman sipped water, grimacing as he addressed Whitman: "I think my foot is seriously injured. I felt the pain when I walked back to my corner just now, and it's…"
Even Wusman, with his unyielding championship mentality, found himself bewildered at that moment. He was lost, struggling to devise a strategy for the next round. What would Ye Chen do if he walked into the cage, all guns blazing, ignoring his injuries?
Whitman furrowed his brow. While an injury elsewhere may have been manageable, a foot injury could severely impede movement, rendering any tactical deployment ineffective. The thought crossed his mind that Wusman might have to camp out by the cage's edge, waiting for Ye Chen to approach. But then again, who could guarantee that Ye Chen wouldn't employ the cage-top tactic in the next round and continue the assault?
He recalled advising Wusman during their break in the first round to focus on controlling the cage in round two. Now, in hindsight, he realized that the plan had largely unfolded as he envisioned, only for the roles to be reversed—Wusman was the one being worn down against the cage.
"The strategy remains the same. Don't follow him to the ground," Whitman instructed. "Maintain your distance, rely on your jab, take it easy, keep your rhythm, and avoid letting him dictate the pace. You understand how skilled he is at drawing opponents into his rhythm, right?"
As he spoke, Whitman's own confidence wavered. He stole a glance at Wusman's feet, then steeled himself. "If your legs hinder your movement, look to take him down and dominate from the top position. However, if you find yourself on the ground, don't rush into any strikes. We can't offer him the chance to submit you."
With clear frustration, Whitman realized how much hinged on Wusman's mobility—not just his exquisite punches or precise jabs, but everything intricate about their standing strategy. If Wusman couldn't move, those ideas meant little. He reiterated to Wusman that, if things deteriorated when he returned to the cage, going to the ground was the best recourse left available, for standing was no longer an option.
Wusman fell silent, recognizing that this was indeed the most pragmatic approach he could consider. Who would have thought that he would be undermined by the very techniques that had brought him fame?
Meanwhile, Catwoman couldn't help but beam with satisfaction, her smile narrowing her eyes to mere slits. As she wiped the sweat from Ye Chen's brow, she relayed a message from her father, who had commended Ye Chen's performance, pointing to the audience's enthusiastic response. This was a twist Ye Chen hadn't anticipated; originally, he had aimed to dismiss Wusman in a single round—without overthinking it. Yet, he had stumbled upon effectiveness he hadn't expected.
Soon, the third round began. Would he opt for the cage again? Absolutely not. Ye Chen recognized that Wusman was almost at his limit. It was time to seal the deal. If their fight concluded with Wusman severely injured from the cage-stomp, leading to an intervention by the doctor that nullified the outcome, the potential losses would outweigh the benefits. With over a dozen powerful blows having landed, Wusman's mobility was obviously compromised. Even if Wusman was as resilient as iron, he had to be feeling the effects of the nearly fifty impacts he had endured.
Sure enough, Wusman's entry into the center of the ring revealed just how much his speed had diminished.
"Snapped."
A heavy mid-sweep swung at him. Wusman didn't fail to react, but his response was alarmingly late, showcasing the toll of the earlier strikes. Although he remained within Ye Chen's striking range, he managed to turn sideways and block the incoming sweep with his arm—a move that would typically have been avoided with more nimble footwork.
In a more favorable scenario, Wusman might have sidestepped the punch entirely instead of absorbing the impact. Yet, he didn't pull back, indicating just how diminished his mobility had become.
Drawing from his newfound confidence, Ye Chen pressed forward. With the pressure mounting on Wusman, he had no choice but to engage. As Wusman struggled to maintain his pace, Ye Chen capitalized on the openings, employing feints and dodges until an opportunity presented itself—an unexpected backhand strike to the stomach.
While Wusman continued to have clarity, evading was no longer a simple option for him. Ye Chen pressed the advantage, only to find Wusman leaning forward. As Wusman took a step to the left, the tension in the ring reached its peak—the moment of exchange had arrived.
Ye Chen's instinct pushed him to back away to avoid the now necessary uppercut from Wusman. Yet the strategy he had perfected suddenly became evident as both their punches swung from their chests, each fighter trying to outpace the other.
Ye Chen was incrementally faster than Wusman. This wasn't by mere chance—Wusman had only begun to prepare for the uppercut upon noticing Ye Chen's impending belly punch. Had Wusman's hook landed perfectly, it might have felled Ye Chen in one clean hit, but Ye Chen was already a step ahead, anticipating the strike with a combination of his own.
"Snapped."
Wusman's arm met Ye Chen's blow, the impact dulling the force of his own strike. Although Wusman blocked it, Ye Chen's trajectory was altered, sending his punch dangerously close to Wusman's chin. Yet, through sheer will, Wusman threw a follow-up backfist that clipped Ye Chen squarely on the cheek, leaving him temporarily dazed.
If Ye Chen's strike had startled him, Wusman experienced a more drastic reaction. The power behind Ye Chen's swinging fist propelled him back, causing Wusman to drop to one knee.
D...
Wusman was down.
A collective gasp rippled through the audience as nearly everyone in the arena erupted from their seats, including the front-row fans who couldn't contain their excitement. Ye Chen seized the moment without hesitation, pouring his full strength into the next strike, throwing up another uppercut.
"Boom."
This strike, fast and relentless, found its mark just as Wusman's senses had dulled. Helpless to engage or defend, he absorbed the punch straight to his forehead. Ye Chen could visually witness the impact—a shuddering jerk of Wusman's head as it recoiled violently, sending a mist of sweat splattering against his own face from the force of the blow.
However, to Ye Chen's surprise, Wusman showed no intention of collapsing.
"..."
Ye Chen felt a thrill of astonishment; this man was remarkably tough. Those two brutal punches had left his hands numb, but it seemed Wusman remained resilient against the storm.
PS: Pictured is the commentator DC (often referred to as 'Black Ball'), known for his distinctive expressions, especially his iconic "Logan [Dog Head]." Some might misinterpret him as a heavyweight in the commentary world, yet his presence on-screen is unmistakably unique.