"That's not fair!" Catwoman exclaimed, her voice echoing in the tense atmosphere of the arena.
Ye Chen shook his head in response. "Don't be upset; that's just how the game works. We'll have to wait and see what the results are." He chose not to intervene further, as he had a feeling that the situation would continue to unfold.
However, he also knew he might be mistaken. After all, Chimaev was the best judge of whether he could finish the fight. At that moment, Chimaev was undergoing an examination by a ringside doctor, who was asking him to perform various actions to ensure he was fit to continue competing.
In Ye Chen's mind, there was no foul on his part. If the doctor determined that Chimaev could not proceed, it would suggest that the referee made a mistake in halting the bout, and that Ye Chen's hold had indeed worked as intended. Conversely, if Chimaev could continue, it would validate the referee's decision to stop the fight, confirming that at least at the moment of interruption, Ye Chen had not caused any irreversible damage.
"You're just too easygoing in your demeanor," Catwoman observed. She had a sense of confidence that Ye Chen had performed well, albeit perhaps a bit overly optimistic. Yet, Ye Chen understood that her intentions were rooted in support. Still, he recognized that the issue transcended mere demeanor; he simply could not afford to undermine the referee's authority.
In competitive combat sports, strict adherence to the rules is imperative. While he possessed strength, he wasn't powerful enough to disregard the established regulations completely.
As discussions continued for roughly six or seven minutes—reviewing footage, simulating the referee's judgments, and considering the doctor's assessments—the situation became clearer. Eventually, He Bo called for an end to the deliberations, signaling the fighters to resume.
Ye Chen had nothing to say regarding this decision; indeed, he preferred to remain silent. Under typical circumstances, if a locking technique doesn't yield results within ten seconds, it becomes considerably more challenging to maintain. Typically, a fighter would either abandon the position or make adjustments to regain control. In Ye Chen's case, the issue stemmed primarily from the referee's rapid intervention. He hadn't been able to fully apply his technique, yet he had managed to achieve a level of control over Chimaev.
Had he been allowed to maintain the hold for a longer duration, there was a possibility that Chimaev might have conceded defeat; he might have even found openings to explore other positions on the mat. The premature stoppage ultimately favored Chimaev, giving him the opportunity to recover from what could have been a very precarious position.
The noise in the venue was overwhelming, with cheers and shouts reverberating through the air. The atmosphere was electrifying; this was still a relatively reserved crowd compared to what would have unfolded had the event taken place in a more boisterous setting. Ye Chen remained unaware of the chaos brewing among viewers at home, some of whom were so incensed that they smashed their televisions in protest.
As the competition resumed, Chimaev came out with greater determination compared to the earlier rounds. He approached Ye Chen, first tapping his fists together before launching a swift sweep kick. Ye Chen deftly avoided the strike. But just as Chimaev raised his leg to deliver a ground attack, he suddenly lunged forward. Like a ravenous wolf, he charged toward the ground.
Caught off guard, Ye Chen recalled the last time he had lost on the ground. Was this newfound confidence, or was Chimaev merely unwilling to give him a chance to regain his footing?
"Bam!" The two competitors collided, and it was clear that Chimaev intended to use his momentum to unbalance Ye Chen and bring him down. However, Ye Chen's wrestling prowess was deeply ingrained within him. Even as his reactions lagged slightly, he took action to prevent being toppled. With both arms raised to block Chimaev's shoulders, the tremendous force pushed him back a couple of meters. However, resisting Chimaev's powerful onslaught remained a daunting task.
Few could withstand the sheer force of Chimaev's strikes and grappling maneuvers without giving up their position. As he was about to seize Ye Chen's outside arm, Chimaev demonstrated his quick thinking. Previously, his coaching team had cautioned him against underestimating Ye Chen's fighting level—if he found himself at a disadvantage, he should avoid engaging directly.
This time, Chimaev executed a smart maneuver. As Ye Chen pressed against him, he sprang back and returned to his feet. Having acted impulsively before, the earlier stoppage had instilled a sense of panic within him. He, too, feared losing the competition and dreaded the referee's intervention. He didn't wish to face that bitter experience again.
Consequently, in the renewed round, Chimaev resolved to calm himself and acted decisively according to his game plan. Returning to a standing position was undoubtedly an advantage for him. Chimaev had struggled to bring Ye Chen down earlier; he'd tried, but Ye Chen's ground control and positional awareness were leagues ahead of others he had faced. Securing a submission would require significant energy expenditure, and there was a possibility that a window would not open until later in the match.
"Snapped."
As Ye Chen's rearcross quickly missed its target, he landed a precise low sweep on Chimaev's calf. Against an opponent of Chimaev's explosive prowess, it was a strategic choice to incapacitate the legs first. With his mobility compromised, any sudden bursts of energy would be rendered ineffective.
Yet, at that moment, Chimaev retaliated with a forward punch. Ye Chen countered with an uppercut drawn from low, aimed initially at Chimaev's chest but unexpectedly switching trajectory, much akin to a line change in hockey. This technique was familiar to Ye Chen as Chimaev had successfully executed it against Burns in a previous match, making it one of his most effective combinations.
With thousands of training simulations under his belt, Ye Chen was well-versed in Chimaev's tactics. The instant Chimaev swung his fist, Ye Chen instinctively turned his head to dodge while simultaneously launching a counter punch to the abdomen, then following up with a forward strike. Both punches landed cleanly, causing Chimaev to stagger momentarily in shock.
Cheers erupted from the audience as the impact was palpable. Quickly, Chimaev regrouped, shielding his head with both hands and stabilizing himself, signaling Ye Chen with a gesture that seemed to say, "I'm alright; let's continue."
Ye Chen, however, would not have needed the provocation to pursue. The moment he pushed Chimaev back, he had already been on the offense, ready to follow through. Yet Chimaev was retreating, walking back while failing to maintain a coherent attack rhythm.
"Snapped."
Once more, Ye Chen executed a low sweep, striking Chimaev's front leg.
"Snapped."
Another sharp strike against Chimaev's limb echoed in the arena.
Ye Chen's three consecutive attacks all found their mark. When Chimaev observed the pattern, he sensed the impending fourth sweep and quickly shifted his stance to guard against it.
His agility allowed him to switch from a forward to a reverse stance, an impressive feat since both fighters typically favored an upright stance. However, continuous calf strikes left Chimaev with little choice but to adapt; if one leg became compromised, he'd be unable to counter effectively later on.
Nevertheless, Ye Chen didn't relent; he delivered another low sweep.
"Snapped!"
As he rose at the front, Ye Chen's sweep targeted the outer edge of Chimaev's calf, now shifting to penetrate the inside track. That small adjustment altered the dynamic of their encounter sufficiently.
The battle raged on, and both fighters were fully aware that the tide could shift at any moment.