It was clear now, this fight wasn't the blowout many predicted.
Chemasov had come in like a storm, expected to walk through PDD and claim the title as if it were his birthright. The fans bought into it. The analysts leaned toward it. The hype behind him was relentless.
But in the cage, things were different.
The champion was fighting like a man who refused to be a stepping stone. PDD had weathered the early storm, shrugged off the takedown attempts, and turned the momentum. His hands were sharper, his movement cleaner, and his composure unshaken.
Every time Chemasov overextended, PDD punished him with something stiff. And when Chemasov tried to shoot, he met a wall, sprawls, underhooks, or a hard knee to the body that sent him back to square one.
It wasn't just defense. It was calculated dismantling.
Commentary had shifted tones now.
