Ye Chen was not pondering over how to end the match; his singular focus was on inflicting a heavy defeat on Covington, ensuring he lay utterly defeated in the ring. Covington's relentless trash talk irked him, and the fact that he had dissed Catwoman was simply intolerable. The buzz around the fight only added to Ye Chen's determination.
"Bang bang."
With fierce determination, Ye Chen unleashed a barrage of punches, his sole right hand transitioning rapidly to target Covington's defenses. He intermittently aimed for Covington's ribs, making it increasingly difficult for him to mount any effective defense.
"Colby, come back!"
"Colby, hang in there! You still have a lot of skills left to use; don't give up!"
The coaching staff shouted in desperation from the sidelines. Their frustration was palpable. Barely having stepped into the ring, Covington found himself on the receiving end of fierce blows, dramatically compromising his status and throwing his game plan into disarray from the get-go.
With each successive hit, Covington was reeling, his situation worsening. Most disconcerting was the helpless feeling of merely watching it unfold, unable to devise any real strategy to counteract the onslaught. It's important to remember that the coaching staff's inability to intervene doesn't stem from a lack of skill; in the heat of battle, the fighters rely heavily on their mastery of fundamental techniques and sheer willpower.
When pinned against the cage, any pre-planned tactics become nearly futile. In a sudden maneuver, Covington managed to catch Ye Chen's hand just as he was gearing up for another punch. With swift agility, he turned and landed a solid left hook to Ye Chen's head.
At that very moment, as he pivoted, Covington unleashed a powerful right uppercut. Ye Chen's reflexes kicked in, and he instinctively dodged while retracting his chin and raising his arms for defense.
"Crack."
The punch crashed firmly against Ye Chen's arm—a testament to the rapid execution of Covington's counterattack, indicating the meticulous preparation that had gone into his strategy. It was clear that Covington was a seasoned athlete; his wealth of experience allowed him to stabilize his position and retaliate even while under pressure.
He showed mastery in maintaining composure, using counterattacks not only to defend but also to buy precious time for himself. Many fighters instinctively turn and flee when faced with such pressure, often leaving them vulnerable to being overtaken and decisively hit.
But, Covington's approach was professional; he understood that the art of escape could also deliver pivotal strikes that could turn the tide of the match. Ye Chen, in a heightened state of excitement from his previous attacks, was at risk of being knocked down, badly injured, or even knocked out by Covington's calculated responses. Even if Covington didn't achieve a knockout, he could still thwart Ye Chen's aggressive advances and assert control over the pace of the match.
With an unexpected elbow strike landing squarely, Ye Chen had to react—but for a brief moment, confusion struck him, his mind buzzing with a mixture of sensations. In the world of professional fighting, a fleeting moment of distraction can jeopardize everything. Covington seized the opportunity, momentarily halting his advance to wipe the blood from his brow obstructing his view. He then executed a high leg sweep that made contact with Ye Chen's arm but lacked the force to knock him down.
However, in the wake of that high kick, Covington quickly transitioned, pressing himself against Ye Chen's waist, forcing him back into the cage's fencing. This is Covington's forte—intense grappling and control, making retaliation difficult for his opponents. His style hinges on wearing down his adversaries, capitalizing on any weakness. If one's fitness level isn't exceptional, Covington could drain them entirely within a few rounds, leaving them at his mercy.
"Nice work, Colby! Keep your pace steady, don't rush!"
"Yes, maintain that control! Watch out for his grappling by the cage; he's formidable there. Don't give him a moment!"
The team surrounding Covington felt a surge of relief. Covington had maneuvered his way out of immediate danger and had gained a dominant position, crucial in the flow of the fight.
Crucially, it allowed Covington a moment to recuperate. With Ye Chen trapped against the cage and Covington anchoring both weight and presence, there was little Ye Chen could do to counteract. Covington recognized that he had bottomed out during the early exchanges and needed a breather to regain his stamina.
The notion of unyielding stamina implies only that one can endure the pace throughout a five-round contest; it certainly doesn't suggest a fighter can maintain that intensity throughout. Covington had exhibited this in previous matches, often taking brief moments to adapt his rhythm and recover his energy levels.
Yes, he possessed remarkable conditioning and could shift his approach efficiently without appearing fatigued, a talent not universally found among fighters. In this particular instance, Ye Chen found himself unable to identify a decisive opportunity. In the interim, he tapped his elbow against Covington's ear, trying to maintain engagement and gauge the flow of the fight, while managing to recalibrate his own rhythm.
He had thrown an overwhelming number of heavy punches in a brief span, expending energy far too rapidly. The intensity of his attacks over those three minutes rivaled that which most fighters expend in two rounds. People often speak of Chandler's explosive power, yet few recognize the sheer volume of heavy strikes he unleashes in just one round. If he maintained such intensity over five rounds, he would defy human limitation.
Suddenly, Covington made his move. He relaxed his grip and latched onto Ye Chen's legs, pushing his momentum toward a pivotal shift. Ye Chen felt his balance compromised; however, he cleverly leaned against the cage, propping himself up with one arm to avoid a complete fall.
With Covington pivoting, he relinquished his hold on Ye Chen's legs, leaning forward and transferring his considerable weight onto Ye Chen. In that moment, Ye Chen, understanding the urgency, gripped the ring with both hands, kneeling down as Covington aimed to hook his legs to assert control. Ye Chen was determined not to allow Covington to seize that crucial positioning.
In response, Ye Chen curled his body and defended himself, adopting a turtle position to thwart any advances from Covington's encroaching legs. Covington then transitioned to a more dominating position, laying on top of Ye Chen's back, initiating a series of discomforting punches.
Given the precarious position, Ye Chen refrained from attempting powerful strikes, cognizant that any miscalculation could jeopardize his posture. Instead, Covington focused on wearing down his opponent, a slow burn rather than a quick finish. As blood trickled down his back, splattering the canvas, the cheers for Ye Chen markedly dwindled, overtaken by scattered boos. It felt as though the crowd was torn between support for Ye Chen and disdain for Covington's stifling tactics.
Suddenly, Ye Chen found a surge of momentum; he pushed down hard on his legs, rolling forward and dislodging Covington from his back. As he felt the weight shift, Ye Chen propelled himself upward with unexpected force. But to his astonishment, Covington opted to release his hold voluntarily.
"No, he's not letting go," Ye Chen thought, having anticipated Covington's typical behaviors. Regardless, rising was his only option; he had to take it. Just as Ye Chen regained his footing, Covington retaliated, swinging two punches in rapid succession. He didn't care about precision; he simply dove toward Ye Chen again, looking to press him firmly against the cage once more.
This tactic of Covington's was almost instinctual; he persisted in applying pressure like an unyielding gummy candy, unwilling to let Ye Chen escape his grip. Even without effective control, Covington aimed to stifle Ye Chen's movements, promoting psychological fatigue. The psychological toll this strategy exacted on opponents often led to them losing composure entirely.
Ye Chen had found himself pinned again, the scenario almost a mirror of the previous encounter. Yet this time, as Covington surged forward to hook his legs and secure a dominant position, Ye Chen made a pivotal decision. He relinquished support and seized Covington's knees with his arms and hands.
By locking down Covington's mobility, Ye Chen not only thwarted that back-taking maneuver but also created space for himself to maneuver. With determination, he twisted around, propping himself against the cage in a seated posture, one foot planted on Covington's supporting leg.
"Snapped."
Covington lost his balance, unable to react in time, and tumbled face-first onto the ring canvas, the sounds reverberating throughout the arena.