"I believe in Senior Byeon. He'll definitely overpower Chu Zhi." Lee Youngjun stared at the television with absolute conviction.
Kim Ryuhak, however, felt a gnawing unease. The "Throat Monster" was undeniably powerful… but Chu Zhi was no slouch either. That man was a bel canto monster. When two monsters clashed, someone was bound to get hurt. Hopefully, it wouldn't be their side.
Even Nam Junmo, who had been sidelined by the rest of the team, kept his eyes fixed on the screen. He hadn't gone up against Kubo Todoren, but he was sure Chu Zhi wouldn't last a round against Senior Byeon Jaejung.
"And now, please welcome singer Chu Zhi from China, performing the song 'Left Hand Pointing to the Moon.'" The host's voice echoed as the stage lights shifted.
That's right. Chu Zhi had chosen to perform "Left Hand Pointing to the Moon" by Sa Dingding. If vocal belting and rock were crowd favorites, he'd counter with a pop song notorious for its unrelenting high notes.
There was an infamous question on the internet: "What makes 'Left Hand Pointing to the Moon' so hard to sing?"
The most common answer? "You just can't hit the notes." The song stretches from E3 to B5. It might not span three octaves like some clickbait titles suggest, but it truly spans over two octaves and seven semitones—a rarity even among professional singers.
It's exactly because of this difficulty that so many vocalists had tried and failed to cover it.
"I've waited forever for brother Jiu! My flowers have withered waiting!"
"Ragdoll is the most beautiful man on Earth!"
"The Demon King descends! Mortals, make way!"
Japanese, Korean, and Chinese fans shouted over each other in a chaotic, multilingual fan chorus.
Chu Zhi had already changed into his performance outfit—a long cyan zhiju robe and a wig to match. With his serene expression and timeless poise, he looked like a wandering immortal poet from ancient times. Notably, the robe's trim was white.
In Hanfu tradition, white edge stitching symbolizes mourning, especially when one's parents or grandparents have passed away. It carried weight—and meaning.
As he stepped from the corridor onto the stage, the audience erupted. Compared to the earlier performers, his entrance was met with thunderous cheers. The popularity of this so-called "Performance Beast" was on full display. Japanese and Korean singers immediately felt the pressure.
They didn't yet realize just how serious this was going to get.
Chu Zhi adjusted the mic stand and nodded to the sound crew. The prelude began, orchestral and cinematic—strings, piano, and drums layered into a grand, majestic backdrop.
Then, dressed in ethereal cyan, Chu Zhi stood motionless and began.
🎵"With my left hand, I grasp the earth, with my right, I touch the sky. My palms crack with lightning from ten directions."
"Time rushes by and turns into years—three thousand lifetimes, still unseen."
"Left hand pinches a flower, right hand wields a sword. A ten-thousand-year snow falls between my brows."🎵
If he was going for shock value, he was seeing it through. What's a few high notes?
Chu Zhi unleashed the full potential of his Farinelli-class vocal range.
Normal male falsettos resemble soprano tones—clear, delicate, weightless. But Chu Zhi's went beyond that. His voice was higher than coloratura sopranos, and somehow more refined and airy. In Sichuan dialect, one might call it "霸道" (overwhelmingly powerful).
🎵"One tear… ah, ah, ah…"🎵🎵"That is me… ah, ah, ah…"🎵
Starting from a deep, grounded chest voice, he effortlessly transitioned through four octaves of head voice. Like a master reversing a car into a tight space, he did it with ease.
But to the audience, those soaring "ah ah" notes felt like being strapped to a freefall ride—surging up with such velocity they forgot how to breathe.
Only after the A-section passed and the melody softened could people begin to recover their breath.
In the Huaxia resting room.
"Was that coloratura technique?" Qi Dake asked hesitantly.
"Coloratura ornamentation," Wang Dong confirmed instantly. "The legato was stunning."
"I thought Teacer Chu was still combining bel canto with pop, still lingering in the 'Opera 2' phase. Didn't expect this." He paused. "Honestly, that A-section was jaw-dropping."
Gu Peng wanted to add something, but all his admiration distilled into a simple, "I think so too."
But if you thought four octaves was the peak, you clearly didn't understand "Left Hand Pointing to the Moon"—or what Chu Zhi was truly capable of when tapping into his full Farinelli potential.
Taking the mic off its stand, he stepped forward, closer to the audience. The song surged into its chorus.
🎵"Left hand snaps, right hand plucks the strings. A boat ferries us across the River of Forgetfulness."
"If troubles bloom into a red lotus, do not stop, give me your stray thoughts."🎵
Say what you will about the lyrics or the arrangement, but this song hit like thunder.
Chu Zhi stood calmly, yet unleashed a vocal range that stretched across twenty tones.
The audience sat only two or three meters from the stage, which stood half a meter high. But when the high notes soared, the psychological distance was like standing at the foot of Everest while the singer stood at its peak.
🎵"Left hand points at the moon, right hand draws the red string. Grant you and I the destined bond we long for."
"In moonlight, ah ah ah…"
"You and I, ah ah ah!"🎵
His voice echoed like the endless snowfields of the Himalayas.
Cold. Icy. Lofty.
The shock wave was like an avalanche crashing down.
Goosebumps. Goosebumps everywhere. This song was so thrilling?! From the end of the A-section, it never once came down.
When Chu Zhi first walked out, sixty percent of the 20,000-strong crowd were focused on his looks. Now, every single one of them was locked in by the performance.
"Did he just articulate five consecutive F5s? What is this guy doing?!"
In the Japanese resting room, no one spoke. Finally, Kubo Todoren broke the silence.
Singing five sustained notes wasn't impossible, but articulating each one clearly from the word "wish" onward—maintaining steady breath, full emotion, and still climbing at the end—that was just unthinkable.
Kubo Todoren had originally thought Chu Zhi got lucky by avoiding a direct face-off. But now? Maybe he was the lucky one.
In perfect condition, maybe he could manage five phrases at F5. But that would come with a strained face and clenched jaw.
Chu Zhi, on the other hand, stood there as if his throat came installed with some alien-grade vocal tech.
🎵"Left hand turns to wings, right to scales. One life in the clouds, another in the woods."
"Let me follow you, like a speck of dust appearing in every corner of the mortal world."🎵
The true horror of this song was that it kept rising. The A-section went from E3 to the fourth octave. The chorus took it from the fourth to the fifth.
But it wasn't done.
The B-section began. Chu Zhi descended like a divine lion roaring from the clouds. A deity of war come to earth.
🎵"With my left hand I raise you, right hand I release you. When our palms meet, I hold all of you in my heart."
"A single incense stick… ah ah ah…"
"You are me, inseparable."🎵
🎤"Zzzzzzt—!"
Static exploded from the sound system.
The audience hadn't caught on, but the singers from China, Japan, and Korea immediately knew what happened.
In the Korean resting room, all five idols stared wide-eyed.
"Ah shiba! Did the mic just explode?!" Jeon Yajeong's jaw could've fit a cucumber.
"What pitch did he just hit?!" Lee Youngjun cried out.
Kim Ryuhak swallowed hard. His throat felt scratchy, like it was rebelling against him.
After some hesitation, he replied, "From G5 at the start of the B-section, I think he pushed it all the way to E6 at C6 range… I'm not entirely sure. It sounded like C6 with clear articulation, but… I might be wrong."
Why the double uncertainty?
Because he was right. But to admit that someone could articulate lyrics that high with clarity and roundness—it was terrifying. His brain didn't want to believe it.
Nam Junmo suddenly felt enormous respect for Senior Byeon Jaechung's decision. If Chu Zhi could break a professional mic system… what kind of demon was he?
Sa Dingding's original was already intense. But with Chu Zhi's Farinelli-level talent on full display? He even raised the key, just casually, and shattered the sound system.
The host rushed back onstage.
"Ahem, just now we had a slight technical issue. That static at the end of the song was a mic blowout," he explained. "It's a term we use in the industry—it means the sound pressure exceeded the microphone's or amplifier's dynamic range, resulting in clipped and distorted signal output."
The moment he said it, the entire stadium exploded with astonishment.
===
Hanfu color code: white trim = mourning; cyan = one deceased elder; green = both.
Song Title: 左手指月 (Zuǒ Shǒu Zhǐ Yuè) "Left Hand Pointing to the Moon"
Original Artist: 萨顶顶 (Sa Dingding)