115 He’s Anxious, He’s Anxious, Who Doesn’t Know How to Do a Pedicure

The atmosphere was electric, charged with excitement and tension. The arena echoed with chants and jeers as Wu Siman was met with a chorus of boos. He had boldly proclaimed himself the king of P4P, the mightiest UFC fighter on the planet. Yet, stepping into the cage, it became apparent that all his bravado would soon be put to the test.

Ye Chen retreated to his corner, feeling the energy of the crowd wash over him. Catwoman rushed to his side, armed with towels, water, ice packs, and an array of other supplies.

"..."

Catwoman handed him a water bottle, cap already twisted off. She began wiping the sweat from his brow, her concern etched across her face. But her gaze quickly shifted to his feet, redness and swelling starkly apparent. Without a word, she snatched an ice pack and pressed it gently against the inflamed skin. A refreshing chill coursed through Ye Chen, easing some of the anger that had bubbled within him.

"Does it hurt? I thought…" she started, her voice trailing off as she processed the situation. As an adult, she understood that no one is invincible. Those at the pinnacle, like Ye Chen, faced fierce competition from other top athletes. There was no way he could dominate without incurring some pain along the way.

If Ye Chen were indeed flawless, two possibilities surfaced in her mind: either the UFC's top level was a mere illusion, or Ye Chen himself was a superhuman. The truth lay somewhere in between; it was inconceivable that the UFC—the foremost MMA event globally—would host anything less than extraordinary fighters. There was simply no room for one-sided slaughter.

Regardless, Catwoman had prepared herself mentally, yet her heart sank every time she witnessed Ye Chen endure a blow.

Ye Chen offered a relaxed smile, "You really think it's painless when someone steps on your foot?"

Catwoman blinked in surprise, responding, "No, I just didn't picture such a blow would impact you that way. I counted, he stomped on you eighteen times in total!"

He looked at her, eyebrows raised. "You had the time to count? Impressive!"

"Stop teasing. How does it feel? Can you go on?" Catwoman asked, concern mingling with exasperation. The pain was evident.

He simply shook his head, his gaze fixed on Wusman. After a moment's silence, he directed her, "No need for the sweat; just come closer."

Confused but obedient, Catwoman moved to stand across from him. He placed his arms on her shoulders, leaning in slightly.

"Of course, I can continue," he reassured her. "I'm counting on you to reclaim that welterweight belt for me."

Her smile returned, buoyed by his sense of humor. "Am I just a support beam for you?"

Ye Chen chuckled, "Well, you're my girlfriend at home and my assistant here. Have you never seen other fighters take a breather like this?"

Meanwhile, Wusman leaned against the cage, his back turned to Ye Chen, while his team worked on him with massaging hands. Whitman praised Wusman, "You did great. You've drained his strength and will. He's a young fighter who's had it easy until now, and you're probably the first to expose his weaknesses."

The plan was clear: capitalize on Wusman's irritation in the second round. If he lost control, it would tilt the fight in Ye Chen's favor.

Wusman's determination sparked in his eyes; he envisioned defeating Ye Chen and felt a rush of excitement. The online community buzzed with anticipation, supporters rallying behind him as he sought to topple the champion.

DC, a ringside analyst, remarked, "The second round is coming up. If I were in Ye Chen's shoes, I'd be extra cautious. He can't let Wusman trap him in the cage again."

Logan nodded emphatically. "Wusman gained an advantage using that tactic. He'll be looking to repeat it."

As the second round commenced, the electric atmosphere enveloped the Octagon. Confidence radiated from Wusman, who extended a fist to Ye Chen with a confident grin as the fight began.

Ye Chen reciprocated the gesture, but Wusman was quick to test him with jabs. Without hesitation, Ye Chen advanced. Wusman attempted to deflect the blow but moved in to unleash a powerful strike.

Ye Chen, agile as ever, dodged just in time, pivoting to deliver a sharp, unexpected kick to Wusman's chest. The impact sent Wusman crashing onto the mat, momentarily stunned.

Ye Chen surged forward, determined not to relent. Wusman, refusing to succumb, quickly regained his footing with an acrobatic backflip.

Ye Chen escalated his offense, his pace relentless. As Wusman stood, Ye Chen launched himself to deliver a flying knee strike.

Seeing this, Whitman couldn't help but smile, sensing the urgency in Ye Chen's attacks. "He's anxious," he thought. "How will his mindset hold up as the rounds continue?"

"Kamanu, keep your composure," he shouted from the sidelines, urging Wusman not to give Ye Chen an opening.

Wusman retreated, avoiding the knee and quickly countering with a jab, feinting before securing Ye Chen's wrist. Simultaneously, he launched a powerful hook.

Ye Chen, however, had his strategy in mind. As Wusman's jab slipped by, he retaliated with a straight punch, closing the distance between them.

Wusman's punch missed its target, but Ye Chen managed to close in, locking onto his opponent's neck.

"Boom."

Wusman's heavy strike glanced off Ye Chen's head, inflicting minimal damage. Wusman, expecting a grappling maneuver, was taken aback when Ye Chen didn't loosen his grip.

With a knee to Wusman's abdomen, Ye Chen seized the moment, maneuvering to gain leverage under his opponent's arms. Wusman, instinctively bending his knees to lower his center of gravity, attempted to thwart Ye Chen's plan.

Yet, Ye Chen pushed against Wusman, who now found himself pressed against the cage.

"Bang."

Despite Wusman's efforts, Ye Chen held firmly as he pressed his weight against him, executing a series of punishing stomps.

Pedicure, indeed? It appears no one knows quite how to handle this one.