136 Break the Defense with One Punch: Knock Down and Draw Blood in Ten Seconds

"Wooo..."

The majority of the audience cheered for Ye Chen. After Ye Chen startled Covington with a clever feint and then playfully mimicked Covington's gesture, the atmosphere in the arena shifted dramatically from the earlier tension inspired by Covington's provocations. The referee, sensing the charged environment, rushed over with a frown, addressing Covington. "Back to your corner," he instructed. The referee, a seasoned professional, was aware that his paycheck depended on maintaining order; he had no desire for an altercation to erupt before the bout even began.

With a smirk, Covington turned and leisurely strolled back to his corner.

"At this moment, the entire audience, along with fans tuning in from around the globe, are poised for the five-round headline main event! This is more than just a match; it's a highly anticipated grudge match, with millions of dollars riding on the outcome. Welcome to the moment we've all been waiting for, broadcasting live from New York Arena! It's time!!!"

Buffer, as always, was putting in maximum effort during the announcement, his energy infectious as he revved up the crowd. The atmosphere was electric.

"This is a welterweight world title defense."

"First, let's introduce the fighter in the Blue Corner. He is a mixed martial artist boasting a record of 17 wins and 3 losses. Standing at 181 centimeters tall and weighing in at 170 pounds, with a reach of 183 centimeters, he hails from a beautiful country and currently holds the title of No. 1 ranked welterweight in the world. He has once held the interim championship... presenting Colby (Chaos) Covington..."

As Covington's name echoed through the arena, so did the boos that cascaded from the crowd. The archetype of a villain in the sporting arena seemed to have struck a chord with the spectators. If he won this bout, there was no doubt the fans would swiftly fixate on his next opponent, each declaring they could take down the villainous figure. The anticipation of the hypothetical matchups only fueled the desire for Covington's downfall.

"I look forward to your defeat," many seemed to think. A villain must never lose; a defeat could shatter his character, leading the audience to dismiss him as merely an overhyped contender. True enough, while Covington had tasted defeat three times, the circumstances characterized them variably; only his initial loss to an unheralded opponent weighed heavily, as his two subsequent losses came at the hands of the formidable Wu Siman. Thus, many considered him the top contender who hadn't quite claimed the title.

"Now, let's welcome the fighter in the Red Corner. He is also a mixed martial arts competitor, undefeated with an impressive record of 11 wins. Each of these eleven bouts has earned him bonus awards for outstanding performance. Towering at 186 centimeters, weighing the same 170 pounds, and boasting a 192-centimeter reach, he arrives from Daxia as the lightweight world champion—a dual champion and now defending his title in the welterweight division. Presenting... The Terminator, Ye Chen..."

"Both fighters are seasoned competitors, deeply aware of the rules and boundaries of this sport. I urge you to restrain yourselves, focus on the fight ahead, and avoid causing unnecessary trouble. Do you understand?"

Given the natures of their rivalry, the referee sought to mitigate any potential outbursts with a distinct warning.

"If you need to exchange a fist bump now..."

Before the referee could finish his sentence, Ye Chen and Covington turned and walked away, leaving him momentarily bewildered.

This was exactly what the spirited audience craved. The vibrant Chinese crowd loves a good spectacle, and the delay of sportsmanship truly ignited their enthusiasm. Unlike some bouts, which concluded with fist bumps and hug-like gestures amidst fierce competition—often deemed embarrassing—this was pure adrenaline.

"Colby, be sharp out there. You know better than anyone how critical this match is," the head coach cautioned Covington as he settled back in his corner. Covington nodded, fully aware that victory would pave his way to retirement with dignity. Caution was paramount.

On the opposite side, Catwoman, while supportive of Ye Chen, felt an undeniable sense of apprehension.

"Start!"

Ye Chen made his way into the inner circle, displaying confidence. Covington, however, appeared less eager, holding back his movements as Ye Chen approached methodically. Again, Covington flashed a middle finger, stuck out his tongue, and grinned playfully.

"Tactics?" Ye Chen wondered. Was Covington attempting to infuriate him into unwise decisions, seeking an opportunity amidst chaos? However, it seemed excessive to dwell on such tactics—he wasn't easily provoked like some; he firmly held his ground.

Ye Chen pressed forward, but he wasn't recklessly aggressive—his advance was careful, filled with awareness and strategy. The instant he closed in, Covington made a swift dive, a tactic Ye Chen had anticipated. Adjusting his center of gravity without being thrown off balance, Ye Chen remained steady. Covington's notorious feints and dives had been noted during his past matches, and Ye Chen was prepared.

As predicted, just as he lowered his center, Covington unleashed a high swing. Ye Chen instinctively leaned back to evade the fierce blow, managing to dodge the attack successfully.

"Bang, bang, bang!"

Ye Chen delivered a trio of quick strikes. The first two jabs smashed into Covington's face, but the seasoned fighter artfully sidestepped, evading Ye Chen's assault. On the third thrust, Covington sidestepped and whipped a backhand hook, aiming directly for Ye Chen.

As the punch arced toward him, Ye Chen deftly tilted his head back to avoid the blow while simultaneously launching his own jab intended to disrupt Covington's rhythm and space. In executing this jab, Ye Chen slid backward, creating distance, re-engaging with a mix of skill reminiscent of Conor McGregor—known for precision and distance control.

Unlike many fighters whose distance control might be static or predictable, Ye Chen adopted an effective variation. His front hand often seemed to gauge distance in exaggerated terms, creating an illusion of safety for his opponent, leading them to believe they were out of reach. However, the trick lay in his ability to slide seamlessly into striking distance, rendering the opponent's perception misleading.

Ye Chen's jabs followed this pattern, and even Covington—known for eluding the jabs of Wu Siman—could not evade Ye Chen's calculated strikes. Continuing the retreat with swift slides while maintaining pressure, Ye Chen managed to sustain a speed that was thrilling.

"Boom."

The jab landed squarely.

Covington's hook missed entirely. Seizing this moment, Ye Chen unleashed his backhand punch, a shot he had been meticulously preparing for this instant.

"Snapped."

The punch struck with staggering force directly on Covington's nose. In that split second, blood streamed from Covington's nostrils, a testament to the raw power behind Ye Chen's blow.

Covington staggered momentarily, instinctively placing his hands on the mat, quickly turning to regain his footing. The welterweight division had its share of powerful strikers, but very few possessed the ability to land devastating blows even from a distance. Names like Wu Siman, Iron-Blooded, and Conor McGregor came to mind.

Ye Chen's backhand strike had almost rendered Covington entirely out of commission, showcasing his formidable striking ability. It became clear that even Covington, known for his durable "iron chin," was not immune to Ye Chen's weighty punches.

As Covington stood up, a cascade of crimson staining his face, he maintained a bold grin, refusing to show weakness.

"Ye Chen! Ye Chen! Ye Chen!"

"Terminator, take him out."

"Finish him!"

The audience erupted in excitement, their energy palpable.

In just over ten seconds since the fight began, an impressive knockout had already taken place, sending shivers of confidence through Ye Chen's supporters. The arena buzzed with the electric anticipation of what was to come.