At the press conference, Wusman, although injured, couldn't hide his distinctive personality and striking fashion sense. Dressed in a leopard print suit with a prominent gold chain draped across his chest, he addressed Colby Covington, saying, "Colby, stop pretending to be tough. You've lost to me twice, and I've left you battered each time. Just look at how you were when you faced Ye Chen, and compare it to your demeanor now. It's truly embarrassing for you. I'm the number one in P4P and the strongest in the world. Deep down, you know there's no chance against Ye Chen, and this time you're going to lose everything. Am I right?" The tension simmered between these two lifelong rivals; their history was written in public animosity.
Colby was relentless, interjecting while Wusman spoke. "Before you say anything else, you might want to take a moment to learn how to protect your hairline. Where is it, anyway? Did you leave it at home? Hahaha… Who was it that shamelessly faked an injury in the ring? Who pretended to be sick, too scared to accept my challenge? Ye Chen, Wusman, Chimaev, you three—listen up!" With palpable excitement, Covington leaped to his feet and roared, "Get into the Octagon tonight, and I'll take you all down at once!" Covington displayed his trademark fearlessness, ready to take on anyone in his path. His antics were hard to ignore, and for those who didn't want a headache, it was best to pretend to remain oblivious.
Wusman fired back, "Shut up, you internet tough guy." Chimaev added, "If I had my choice of opponents, I would love nothing more than to knock you out cold." Meanwhile, Ye Chen smiled and shook his head, opting to remain a bystander to the bickering. He had listened to Covington repeatedly spill the same rhetoric for months; it had become an old tune.
As the press conference progressed, time seemed to slip away, possibly due to the vibrant atmosphere in the room. The weigh-in was scheduled for the day after tomorrow, and Ye Chen knew he had a grueling weight-cut ahead. Fortunately, everything went smoothly, and he managed to successfully make weight.
On game day, Dana White sat in his office, captivated by the numbers flashing on the computer screen, his eyes gleaming with excitement. The PPV purchases were climbing steadily. "240..." he mused, sensing the momentum. "Okay, continue, continue…" His anticipation grew louder with every passing moment. Suddenly, he leapt up, elated—his face exploding with joy, for he had just witnessed the purchase numbers soar. More than 2.4 million PPV copies had been sold, officially surpassing the famed bout between Conor McGregor and Khabib Nurmagomedov. Ye Chen was leading in purchases, a feat that had never been accomplished without Conor at the forefront.
This was a significant moment, demonstrating that Ye Chen's marketability was rivaling top stars in the sport, even eclipsing some of their precedents. With Khabib also being a big name in the previous fight, it was clear that Ye Chen was now a superstar in his own right, boasting a fanbase that could contend with the combined followings of Covington, Wusman, and Chimaev.
Typically, in digital matchups, a PPV sale ranging from thirty to forty thousand copies wasn't unusual, with a handful of fighters like Maha, Black Dragon, and Oliveira occasionally reaching six or seven million. Ye Chen had catapulted himself into an entirely different league. At 2.4 million sales, each at a price of 79.9 yuan, he was looking at revenue nearing 200 million yuan. The increase from recent years in PPV pricing had resulted in significantly higher overall earnings, and Dana couldn't help but marvel at the staggering figures, fully aware this was a pivotal moment in the sport.
While Dana rejoiced at this financial boon, his stakeholders quickly spread the good news; the joy in the room was palpable. Ye Chen himself assessed his earnings, revealing that his PPV dividends had surpassed 40 million yuan. It was a figure that even took him aback, highlighting his drawing power in the sport. Covington, unintentionally, shared some of the credit for this financial success. Without his over-the-top persona and antics, Ye Chen may not have captured as many headlines or viewers. And, of course, the contributions from other fighters also played a part; Chimaev, with his impressive fanbase of five to six million, added to the allure of the match.
The numbers even startled Catwoman, Ye Chen's close associate. She had come to expect a typical income of around 20 million per event, yet here they were doubling that figure. "Who would have guessed that taking on Covington would escalate things to such a level?" she mused.
As evening arrived and the atmosphere heightened for the match, Ye Chen began his stretching and warm-up routine. Catwoman settled beside him, her eyes fixed on the TV in the preparation room. "Are you really betting on Chimaev in this fight? Edwards is a former champion, don't forget that," she posed skeptically. "Unless, of course, Chimaev makes a significant blunder," Ye Chen replied nonchalantly.
"Well, then, what do you say to making a wager?" Catwoman proposed, the competitive camaraderie seeping through. "I'm in," Ye Chen replied, walking over to her confidently, "If I win, you'll have to listen to me for the next half month and do whatever I ask without objection. And vice versa."
"Deal," she said with a laugh, affectionately poking at his abs. "But remember, you can't pull that scumbag stuff after a loss. I don't believe I'll be losing every time!" Ye Chen continued to warm up, smirking, "Just wait and see."
Before long, Chimaev made his entrance, embodying his usual wild energy. He bounded around the cage, demonstrating his enthusiasm before stationed himself directly on the cage net. Following him was Huazi, a lesser-known fighter who didn't bring much hype along with him. Known for his straightforward nature, Huazi was a fighter that would make some unintentional but crafty moves in the cage, earning him a reputation for being genuine—at least among the convoluted characters of the UFC.
Introducing Chimaev first, the voice boomed, "The player in the blue corner is a Chechen-born mixed martial artist from the Swedish All-Star Training Center. He holds an unblemished record of twelve wins and zero losses, finishing his opponents in eleven of those fights. Currently residing at fourth in the welterweight rankings, he is a ferocious force in the Octagon, with wrestling that can only be described as a violent aesthetic. He is Kamza Chimaev…"
"Now in the red corner, we have a mixed martial artist from Great Britain and former champion, renowned for his electrifying KO against Wusman utilizing a spectacular high kick. His professional record stands at 20 wins and 4 losses—this includes additional imaginary bouts I've calculated, actual records reflect 20-4. He's currently ranked second in the welterweight class and is known as a calculated destroyer; you never know when he'll land the decisive blow. He is Leon Edwards…"
After a brief explanation of the fight rules from the referee, both competitors retreated to their corners, ready for battle. Ye Chen, while continuing to warm up, glanced at the screen, asking, "Do you think Qima will attempt to throw Lyon right from the outset?"
"Xin, he tends to do that in every fight," Catwoman agreed, already forming her expectations. Given Huazi's weaker takedown defense and Chimaev's strength in striking, many anticipated an early grapple.
Still, Ye Chen remained wary; he recalled Burns' recent performance and speculated whether Chimaev's team might adopt a more cautious approach to avoid pitfalls when facing a stronger ground game. Much like Ye Chen himself, who knew that the first fall didn't guarantee control if the opponent was adept at grappling. Even the most prepared fighters could falter; preparation was key, but facing opponents with diverse tactics could shift the momentum unpredictably.
As the fight commenced, Chimaev burst forward, quickly claiming the center of the ring, employing feints before diving low and aiming to establish dominance in the match. The audience watched with bated breath, eager to see how this fierce confrontation would unfold.