68 Pre-Game Press Conference: This Must Be Our Bubble

Otherwise, the hype will merely dissolve into nothingness—a fleeting bubble.

The buzz around Ye Chen has escalated impressively. His supporters are passionately rallying behind him, igniting public indignation that has propelled the view count of a recent video past one million within hours.

Comments are flooding in:

*"Are you actually going to fight? I'm rooting for you, Paopao, just to see you break that other leg again!"*

*"Stop messing around online. If you're serious, go talk to the UFC boss. Get the fight card sorted before you start running your mouth!"*

*"What is that upstate mutt barking about? Just look at Connor's physique—do you honestly think he won't triumph?"*

*"Here we go again. Connor should hang up his gloves. He's clearly out of place in the ring, parading his gym gains. Those who aren't in the know might mistake him for a bodybuilder."*

*"I have faith in the Daxia fighter. If Connor isn't careful, he'll find himself knocked out like Lao Qian and then promptly announce his retirement."*

*"You really think Paopao's left hook is weak? Remember how many opponents he's taken down with it."*

*"Honestly, regardless of his fighting plans, I just love watching Connor in action."*

*"Water... it seems like he really wants to commence a fight," Ye Chen quipped in response.*

After watching the said video, Ye Chen dove deeper into social media, unearthing screenshots that captured Connor at his most vulnerable—helplessly slumped by the cage after being defeated by Xiaoying, and another that showed him on the ground, his broken leg wedged against the cage. The accompanying text? *"In my eyes, Connor is merely a broken-down old man, a shattered medicine container. Have your steroids been depleted? Have you passed drug tests? If everything checks out, maybe I'll grant you the pleasure of the cage. But don't worry; you won't sit down for long—I'll see to it that you leave via a stretcher."*

Ye Chen's bold message sent shockwaves through the online community, rivaling the video's own sensationalism. While it may not match Connor's banter in terms of popularity, it unquestionably captured the entire fighting scene's attention. Any new developments were certain to attract widespread scrutiny.

*"Haha, Ye Chen calls it like he sees it. The brash one must be on something!"*

*"These screenshots just scream pity at first, but considering Connor's usual arrogance? He absolutely deserves it."*

*"Who do you think you are? Connor is an icon of this sport with countless contributions. You, a rookie, mock him because of your six-fight win streak?"*

*"Connor could give you a chance just to be polite. You can't treat a legend like this."*

*"To the Connor fans chattering above, did Ye Chen lie? Isn't Connor known as a walking pharmacy?"*

*"Call the commander; we need to arrange for 743 to witness this showdown."*

*"Connor is the one taking the initiative. If he calls out for a title shot, Dana will accommodate—after all, who can resist his marketability?"*

The comment section buzzed with fervor, and professional fighters expressed their eagerness. Connor had become a prized commodity; who wouldn't want to bask in his limelight?

Once Ye Chen finished posting, he decided to finally rest. Although it was still early, he felt worn yet exhilarated, especially considering the doctor's recent approval for him to engage in vigorous training. Starting tomorrow, he would gear up for a lucrative fight.

But just as he began to drift off, his phone lit up.

**Catwoman:** "After seeing your posts, do you really want to take on Connor? I heard from my father that everyone's looking to go toe-to-toe with him. Is that true?"

Ye Chen hadn't expected Catwoman to reach out. He quickly texted back, *"Not officially yet. Connor's star power in the fight world is immense; everyone wants to challenge him just as actors aspire to work with elite directors."*

Choosing not to invoke their last night together, he noticed Catwoman didn't either.

**Catwoman:** "So that's it! Should I congratulate you ahead of time? 😏"

**Ye Chen:** "No need for that—just skip the curses, please."

**Catwoman:** "[Laughs hysterically]"

**Catwoman:** "By the way, how did last night go? Did you meet any beautiful girls?"

Ye Chen paused, taken aback. Was she really still trying to bait him? He hesitated for a moment but decided not to reveal the truth. He was curious just how long she would continue this charade.

**Ye Chen:** "Absolutely! I crossed paths with a gorgeous woman, full of charm. Sadly, fate had different plans… she didn't end up staying."

Simultaneously, Catwoman, lounging on her bed, grinned upon reading the texts. Since their last encounter, her imagination had been racing. If she weren't a busy actress, she would consider pursuing Ye Chen again. But unveiling their relationship now could jeopardize her career—her contract tethered her to certain restrictions that would soon fade with time. The end of her contract meant freedom from those earlier constraints that came with her rise to fame: no public romance, no weddings, no children until now...

**Catwoman:** "How unfortunate… By the way, did you notice that couple on the sofa last night? Everyone was glued to them—it was super awkward! 😅"

**Ye Chen:** "Oh, incredibly awkward! That person wasn't me. 😅"

**Ye Chen:** "By the way, did you find a catch last night?"

Reading those words made Catwoman chuckle uncontrollably. *Not you?* Oh well, thank goodness for that.

**Catwoman:** "Definitely not me!"

**Catwoman:** "Though I must say, everything that came out of that guy's mouth was pure nonsense. Not my style at all."

A smile crept onto Ye Chen's face. *Not your style?* Her enthusiasm and proactiveness stifled his amusement.

**Ye Chen:** "Some guys have a tendency to spin tall tales, but me? I only speak the truth…"

**Catwoman:** "???"

In the past month and a half, a relentless back-and-forth on social media had ignited rivalry between him and Connor. Connor consistently dropped snarky comments during interviews, prompting Ye Chen's own spirited responses, as he found himself speaking candidly on renowned podcasts and with reporters within the fighting scene.

As their mutual disdain built public intrigue, a downward trend in interest ensued, until today. On his show, Rogan—a highly influential figure in the UFC—hinted (whether intentionally or otherwise) at ongoing negotiations between Dana and both Connor and Ye Chen.

Rogan's clout cannot be overstated; his sheer number of dedicated followers eclipses that of Connor. Not all his fans are exclusively MMA enthusiasts either; having dabbled in various shows, he boasts a diverse audience that rivals A-list celebrities.

His casual disclosure ignited a frenzy, resurrecting the waning excitement around the impending matchup. Ye Chen shook his head, amused yet slightly exasperated. These tactics were textbook hype-building. Gradually rolling out news to maintain momentum; had the announcement been made a month ago, buzz would have quickly fizzled, and antagonistic banter would've lost its edge.

While that had been happening, Connor remained busy uploading training footage—including boxing, kickboxing, and wrestling antics—showcasing his recovery and impressive gains. Viewers sensed the talker's resurgence, his physique evolving from weary bulk to explosive readiness. Anticipation for the battle between Ye Chen and Connor soared.

Fans continued to rally on the UFC's official message board, clamoring for Dana to finalize the matchup.

Before one could catch their breath, weigh-in day arrived—a showdown officially scheduled a month and a half prior. After rounds of speculation, interest unsurprisingly dwindled again, only for Dana to unveil the pre-set fight card then and there, igniting excitement anew. Both hardcore fighting enthusiasts and casual observers, drawn in by the hype machine, buzzed in anticipation.

As it stood, commentators and professionals had thrown down their predictions regarding the match. Curiously enough, over half believed that Ye Chen would triumph, while netizens skewed heavily in Connor's favor, granting him an alarming 81% support rate and leaving Ye Chen with a meager 19%. Such stark contrast illuminated Connor's greater notoriety within both the community and casual fans.

Amidst it all, Ye Chen had soared to five million followers—only a handful of competitors surpassed him in reach: Connor, Black Dragon, Oliveira, Maha, and Wolf.

Arriving at the weigh-in, Ye Chen savored a moment of triumph. Once reliant on taxis, he now enjoyed a VIP transportation service.

As he drew closer to the weigh-in venue, the bustling streets of New York were plastered with promotional posters of himself and his rival. The marketing for this bout was unprecedented, with Times Square buzzing with ads for Ye Chen and Connor daily over the past week.

Reflecting on his past year, Ye Chen was filled with a heady mixture of gratitude and wonder. He had clawed his way onto the billboards dotting New York's grand avenues and witnessed his name brighten Times Square's enormous screen. The world was indeed starting to take notice.

Just then, a familiar ring interrupted his thoughts.

"Mom? Yeah, I'm busy right now."

His mother's voice burst through the line, startled. "Xiaochen, I saw you on TV! Is it really you?"

He had only hinted about an upcoming match, not delving into specifics, knowing his parents wouldn't understand the nuances of the fighting world or Connor's colossal influence. After all, their only exposure to foreign fighters was limited to heavyweights like Tyson, whose fame was not yet eclipsed by others.

"It's me! Just my advertisement for this competition."

His mother's incredulity clashed with excitement. "How did your ad air in China?"

"Mom, I can't explain right now. I'll talk to you more once this wraps up."

In the remote mountains of a northwestern province in China, Ye Chen's mother, with her shoulder-length hair, eagerly captured the advertisement on TV with her smartphone, soon sharing it with Ye Chen's father, excitedly broadcasting the news.

While they were accustomed to seeing Ye Chen's videos on Douyin, they regarded them as standard fare—something anyone could do, including villagers who frequently updated each other online. But television was a realm apart; they believed that being featured on a screen was far more significant, and to their minds, so few attain that level of publicity.

On the domestic front, promotional momentum for the upcoming battle peaked. Yangshi Sports Channel aired segments almost every day, without needing to mention Douyin or Bilibili.

Meanwhile, Migu was gearing up for the live weigh-in event, and even without an official bout yet underway, viewership exceeded thirty million. Most attendees weren't hardcore fight fans but casual spectators caught by promotional fever, curious to see how the Daxia fighter fared.

Inside the bustling venue, the sheer magnitude of this press conference eclipsed all that had come before it—over five hundred media outlets and an audience surpassing five thousand marked it as a historic gathering.

Seated comfortably on the left side of the stage, Ye Chen savored his moment—his position reminiscent of a champion's throne. Connor, still a no-show, would inevitably steal the spotlight, for everyone knew the event revolved around both fighters.

As the conference approached the three-minute mark, Ye Chen kept his focus, disengaged as he casually played a game on his phone.

One inquisitive reporter challenged him from the crowd, "Ye Chen, why do you appear so unruffled?"

With a sideways glance toward Connor's empty chair, Ye Chen replied with a wry grin, "Do you think I need to feel anxious over defeating Connor? Would that enhance the show? Not at all—plowing through him is as routine as hitting the gym. Are you nervous there?"

"Dâââ…"

Responses blended into murmurs—some cheering, others jeering. Connor's followers wanted to see him triumph, while others desired only to watch their hero take a beating.

Yet Dana exuded a glum expression; the countdown ticked forward. Once upon a time, Connor's tardiness was forgiven due to acclaim, but Dana had specifically mandated his prompt arrival. Now, all eyes were on the clock.

Just as Dana's frustrations mounted and he considered making a call to track Connor down, the atmosphere shifted abruptly.

"Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh…"

The incredibly catchy tune played by fans had become Connor's anthem, captivating everyone in the crowd. As soon as he sauntered in, complete in a striking red suit and sunglasses, the vibrancy of his entrance drowned out any display of disapproval.

Connor strutted toward the press conference table before sitting. His energy was palpable; the entire venue switched focus, entranced by his presence.

Ye Chen couldn't help but chuckle, witnessing Connor's dramatic antics—his playful swipe of Ye Chen's water bottle resembled the antics of a mischievous schoolboy.

Eyebrows lifted, Dana looked on with a fondness that bordered on paternal pride.

Connor then tossed the water bottle straight into the trash, proclaiming, "I am back! The king has returned! Everything will be shattered—Ye Chen is nothing more than that discarded bottle in my view."

The air ignited with fervor; Connor's followers erupted in passionate cheers.

Once seated, Dana promptly instructed his staff to retrieve Ye Chen another bottle of water. "I welcome you all to the Connor vs. Ye Chen pre-match press conference. Please, if you have questions, now is your chance to ask."

Hands shot up from eager reporters, and Dana selected a familiar face to pose the first query. "Connor, it's been a while! Multitudes of fans yearn for your grand return. Do you feel prepared to face this rising star? What's your current shape?"

Taking his time, Connor unfurled the microphone, leaning back in his chair and propping his legs on the table with confidence. "Who's this Ye Chen? I've no idea. I told Dana I was ready to face the fiercest contender available—heard this 'supernova' is quite tough, huh? Hahaha… tonight, I'm going to smash his face. After a year of training, my skills have only sharpened, and my punches possess unparalleled force. I can take him down."

The man's bravado carried an old familiar sting—arrogance and flair.