6 Critical Hit Copy

Ye Chen was deep in the throes of a battle simulation.

He deftly switched between classic tactics of his opponents, experimenting with different playing styles to discover strategies that might yield better results.

The intelligence of the simulation space was nothing short of astounding.

In this virtual arena, he attempted to block an opponent's powerful kick with his shin, causing the Li Zhengyong persona he was playing against to wince in pain.

The scene unfolding in the arena felt eerily identical; it was as if reality and simulation had merged into one.

The crowd buzzed with excitement, their voices rising in a cacophony of reactions.

"Brother, you backed yourself against the cage! Are you just going to wait there to get knocked out?"

"Dodge and weave! If you switch up your punches, you might just surprise him!"

"He's done for! He doesn't have a clue, just leaning against that cage?"

"What a rookie move! How can he compete against such a fast fighter? He should be on the move!"

"I wish I could be in his corner! Though I've never trained, I've watched enough fights over the years."

"That's not how it's done!"

Watching from their seats, the audience felt a surge of anxiety, more nervous than Ye Chen himself.

What they didn't realize was that every move had been meticulously calculated by Ye Chen.

"Here it comes," he thought as he spotted his opponent's pursed lips.

With a swift adjustment, Ye Chen stepped back with his right leg and quickly dodged to the side, but not too far.

Li Zhengyong threw a front jab, but it lacked force. His intention was never to land a blow; it was just a feint.

True to form, he seized Ye Chen's left wrist, pushing down, leaving the left side of Ye Chen's head wide open for a strike.

The moment was ripe for a back fist.

As Li Zhengyong pressed forward, the commentator's voice boomed with excitement: "If nothing changes, Ye Chen's about to be taken down! This is Li Zhengyong's signature move!"

"Many opponents have fallen to his tactics!"

The referee wasn't about to intervene prematurely. Already at the edge of the cage, he was poised to stop the fight at any moment.

But in a shocking twist, everyone's jaws dropped when Li Zhengyong, cocky with confidence, suddenly swung a backhand strike at Ye Chen.

In a split second, Ye Chen turned his head just as an uppercut pierced through the gap between his opponent's arms.

The move was fast, fierce, and precise.

"Boom!"

The impact sent a piece of black gear flying high above.

Li Zhengyong's hair shot up as if struck by lightning.

And then, it happened.

His body seemed to lose all control as he collapsed to the mat, hitting the canvas hard. His head struck the ground, his legs rigid and straight.

Ye Chen didn't bother to check if Li Zhengyong was out cold; if he wasn't, it'd take more than a titanium alloy chin to withstand that punch.

Instead, he raised his hands high towards the audience, a moment of mixed emotions washing over him.

Though he had seized the moment beautifully, he felt a twinge of dissatisfaction with his performance. When he finally saw the flaw in his opponent's approach, he wasn't sure if he was more excited or relieved.

The uppercut may have seemed perfect, but there had been a slight hitch in his movement. Against a skilled fighter, it might not have played out as successfully.

"This mental game needs refining," he mused, recalling the legendary UFC champions who fought with unwavering calm.

As a newcomer, his thoughts were still swayed by the energy of the crowd and the momentum of the fight.

Finally, the referee rushed in, halting the match at four minutes and forty-two seconds.

Eighteen seconds—an astonishingly brief battle.

The audience was left in stunned silence, completely unaware of what had just unfolded. All they saw was Ye Chen retreat against the cage and then… it was over.

Even the commentators were left speechless, their expressions blank as they stared in disbelief at the scene before them.

"Ah!"

Ye Chen shouted, the adrenaline coursing through his veins like wildfire.

Now, he understood why so many fighters shouted in triumph after a win.

Months of grueling preparation, every ounce of energy poured into this moment, and now he could finally exhale.

How could he not release that pent-up emotion?

As he yelled in victory, the cage door swung open, and a team of doctors rushed into the ring to attend to the downed Li Zhengyong.

The crowd erupted in cheers.

People were shouting and celebrating, the atmosphere electric with excitement.

The three commentators sprang into action. They replayed the thrilling moment on the monitor, and soon the big screen displayed the slow-motion footage of Ye Chen's KO hit.

As Li Zhengyong pressed down on Ye Chen, the moment was captured; Ye Chen was already in motion.

The uppercut rained down with all its force, and in that slow-motion replay, one could see Li Zhengyong's face contort, his head jerking violently as his hair defied gravity.

Everything had happened so fast that neither fighter had time to break a sweat.

The commentators couldn't contain their awe, showering Ye Chen with praise.

"Remarkable! It's hard to believe he pulled off such a flawless strike under such pressure!"

The renowned commentator, DC, placed a hand on his forehead in disbelief. "After all these years in the sport, after countless fights, I've never witnessed anything like this."

Praise echoed as the realization set in; Ye Chen's counter was beautifully executed. His head movement had just narrowly avoided that lethal punch.

Everything had fallen perfectly into place.

"Ye Chen! Ye Chen!"

The crowd chanted his name, electrified with excitement.

But for those who had backed Li Zhengyong, their faces were ashen as they gazed at the motionless fighter.

In that moment, a sharp realization struck Ye Chen.

[Critical hit copy activated.]

[Li Zhengyong's Jiu-Jitsu is now being copied.]