Backstage, preparation room.
*"It's about to start, coming…"*
Catwoman arrived in Cold Country on weigh-in day. At that moment, she gazed at the screen, anxiously muttering to herself. Jackson was busy wrapping Ye Chen's wristband, and he smiled, saying, *"Why are you more nervous than Ye Chen? I'm full of confidence in him, and I even placed a bet on him this time."*
Ye Chen shot a suspicious glance at Catwoman. Normally, she wasn't this on edge.
*"Yeah, why are you so anxious? What's going on?"* he asked.
*"I don't care; you must win this time,"* Catwoman replied, her eyes brimming with tenderness and hope. She clenched her fists and gestured to Ye Chen in encouragement.
Ye Chen was puzzled. *"Tell me, what's the matter?"*
Her demeanor was so out of character that he was sure something was up. Catwoman hesitated before saying, *"I can't tell you now, but when you win, I'll give you the best gift."*
He couldn't help but recall that time they were in the preparation room together for the first bout. What surprise did Annie have this time? Nevertheless, as long as Catwoman was alright, he felt reassured.
*"Get your gifts ready,"* he said confidently. This wasn't just blind arrogance.
In the simulation space, over hundreds of practice bouts, Ye Chen had nearly perfected his defense against Chimaev's aggressive wrestling. Even during moments when he fell short, he felt he wouldn't find himself at a disadvantage on the ground—he could also deliver takedowns against Chimaev. Still, he wouldn't underestimate his opponent's incredible wrestling skills.
Their styles were completely different: Makhachev relied heavily on technique, while Chimaev combined raw strength with skill. It wasn't that Chimaev was just exceptionally powerful; rather, his explosive power was extraordinary, often at the expense of finesse. His fall protection was slightly inadequate, given his aggressive approach.
As he recalled past matches, he thought about how he'd faced off with both Covington and Usman, and he had a gut feeling that the Wolf King could also defeat both—victory merely hinged on the circumstances.
Meanwhile, Chimaev was focused as well, wrapping his wristbands with evident excitement. He could hardly contain himself. His head coach's voice cut through his excitement, cautioning him, *"Remember, when executing tactics, don't go toe to toe with Ye Chen. He's in top form. If you drain yourself early in the fight, you won't stand a chance."*
Chimaev nodded, though his mind raced.
The coach continued, *"If you want to be a superstar like Conor or Ye Chen, you must win this bout. No matter how incredible your performance is, if you lose, people will quickly forget about you. Only victories will keep you in their minds; understand? Stay calm."*
Others around Chimaev echoed this sentiment, believing his composure was key to securing a win. However, they acknowledged that if he fell behind against a well-rounded fighter like Ye Chen, the odds would shift against him.
In the competitive world of athletics, winning takes precedence above all else. If you lose, no amount of post-fight commentary can change that. For instance, Tyson's worldwide fame skyrocketed mainly because he remained undefeated during the peak of his career.
Imagine if Conor had gone undefeated while besting Khabib and gaining victory over the diamond—would his fanbase remain limited to just over 40 million?
In contrast, Ye Chen had never tasted defeat; his star power soared each time he stepped into the ring. However, everyone knew what was at stake for Chimaev as well.
With twelve victories lined up against thirteen on Ye Chen's side, one of them was destined to be tarnished this night. This uncertainty fueled a surge in pay-per-view sales, as audiences eagerly awaited an unforgettable showdown.
Chimaev flexed his arms and rotated his neck, *"I understand; I won't give him any openings."*
*"Alright, let's pray,"* directed the coach as everyone joined hands in a circle, heads bowed slightly in reverence. This was their ritual, a reassurance before the chaos of competition.
Moments later, the previous main event concluded, and the fighters exited the stage. Buffer stepped into the ring, and a sudden wave of cheers engulfed the arena.
All eyes were fixed on the entrance, urging Ye Chen and Chimaev to step into the limelight. Yet it was more than a local affair; fans across the globe were tuned in, regardless of time zones, holding their collective breath in anticipation.
*"Next up, entering the octagon is Ye Chenyi, from the Sharp Point All-Star Training Center! Renowned for his impressive record and wild fighting style, he's adored worldwide as the superstar of MMA—Hamza Chimaev!"*
Before Buffer finished, the entire venue dimmed to a hush. Instantly, countless green lights illuminated the space, bathing the octagonal cage in an otherworldly glow.
As the final syllable left Buffer's lips, the lights blazed to life, redirecting attention to the entrance. Chimaev emerged, glistening in vibrant green lights.
*"Wooo…"* he howled, embodying the spirit of a wolf, a surge of excitement coursing through him.
This was his moment on the grand stage, with a roaring crowd of 80,000 cheering him on. No prior fight had reached such heights of prestige, and now he relished the spotlight as the sole star—at least until Ye Chen made his appearance.
Chimaev sensed the weight of expectations and shared the fervor of the crowd. The mixture of cheers, jeers, and cacophony echoed around him. Yet, he remained undeterred, believing triumph over Ye Chen would turn the critics into admirers.
Accompanied by his staff and a corner team of over a dozen, he navigated the passage to the cage. Each step was amplified by a blend of exhilarating cheers and discontented boos aimed at him.
Soon, he entered the octagonal cage, pumping himself up, embodying the agile lone wolf amidst the vibrant green illumination. After circling the cage, he climbed the net, throwing wide his arms in an expressive declaration of dominance.
Buffer's voice resonated once more, this time more dramatic than before. *"Below stands the undisputed number one superstar in the history of MMA, the strongest athlete across two weight divisions. Join me in welcoming the light of Asian fighting, the terminator of Daxia, Ye Chen!"*
The atmosphere was electric, surging with anticipation. Cheers pierced the air, reaching a deafening crescendo—the highlight of the evening.
*"Snapped."* Lights suddenly extinguished, plunging the arena into darkness.
It wasn't long before intertwining red beams erupted, dancing in a mesmerizing fashion, illuminating a striking image of a leaf bird clutching two championship belts.
As Buffer's voice faded, the moment the lights burst back to life, they revealed Ye Chen, shrouded in a striking cascade of red light. The illumination donned a gentler tone, ensuring clarity rather than brightness.
Catwoman trailed closely behind him, flanked by eight imposing figures as they made their entrance. Ye Chen waved enthusiastically to the ardent fans lining the aisles, high-fiving those who cheered him on, fully embracing the fervor of the atmosphere.
He could distinctly hear his name being chanted, affirming his reign as the king of the sport. Once he stepped into the Octagon, he knew he commanded respect, and anyone daring to stand against him would be met with formidable challenge.
In no time, Ye Chen stepped into the Octagon, maintaining his signature demeanor. As he raised his hands in acknowledgment of the crowd, he took a moment to warm up by the cage, casually conversing with Catwoman stationed outside the cage net.