Challenging the stage was meant to seize the spotlight, not become a laughingstock.
Chu Zhi's four consecutive wins already carried significant weight. Both Pattern 14 and AFZ Band were top-tier names in Asia. Then came the fifth win—defeating Higuchi Hanato in a head-to-head battle.
What could possibly beat that? Charging in with your head on the line?
Besides, the mind-blowing performance of We.Will.Rock.You was still fresh in everyone's memory. No one dared to lift a finger. Not even the lead singer of Moontrace. He silently handed his token to a teammate, worried that his own hand might act out on impulse.
One minute passed.
Then two.
The crowd began to realize: no singer dared to go up.
Not even a nine-win streak—just five in a row—and no one could stand against it. In the festival's twenty-year history, this was the first time such a thing had occurred. The moment quickly reached the ears of the event organizers.
One of the committee heads, Hojo Koshi, rushed over at a brisk jog.
Hojo Koshi borrowed two tokens and pressed them. Red lights flashed as expected—nothing wrong with the equipment.
A Chinese singer had cleared the stage? What was going on?
Even if this felt more unbelievable than catching his wife cheating, Hojo Koshi could only stick to protocol.
He leaned in close and offered a quiet congratulations. "Chu-san, please remain calm." Then he spoke into his walkie-talkie.
The next second, boom boom boom! fireworks exploded in the sky.
Atop the three-meter steel rig in the center of the stage, where the lights were mounted, the fireworks rig had been activated. Bursts of color lit the air.
The crowd snapped out of their daze.
They screamed from the depths of their throats:
"Chu Zhi!"
"Chu Zhi cleared the stage!"
"Five-win sweep!"
Just a few seconds later, the noise converged into a unified chant: "Chu Zhi!"
The name of the Emperor Beast echoed through the skies above the Naeba ski resort, shaking the clouds.
Even at Stage Seven, the farthest from Stage Three, everyone now knew. Chu Zhi had become the first performer in the history of the Fuji Rock Festival to clear a stage.
"Old Xu's gonna be impossible to deal with now," thought Zheng Huo.
Xu Ji had given up his own slot to let this happen. And not even he, let alone Chu Zhi's biggest supporter Zheng Huo, had expected this. Nobody thought a newcomer to Fuji would break through on their first try. At the very least, you'd expect someone to get used to the place first, right?
"Brother Zheng, what happens next after someone clears a stage?" Wu Xi asked curiously.
Members of Pain Flower, Face-Up, and others all looked at the veteran with eager eyes, assuming of course that he would know.
They were all asking him, but who could he ask? This had never happened in the festival's history. Where was he supposed to get the answer? Zheng Huo was speechless.
Then, he suddenly remembered a young guy named Lin. The way that kid spoke actually worked here.
"If I'm not mistaken—" Zheng Huo said, "Something extraordinary is about to happen."
The crowd stared blankly.
Hearing him speak is like… hearing him speak. Not helpful at all.
But they didn't stay speechless for long. The reason would soon become clear.
Cheers and fireworks continued for a full thirty seconds, giving the first stage-clearer all the fanfare he deserved.
Then, snap snap snap! Three crisp clicks. The stage lights went dark, and the spotlight that had been so hard-won was suddenly extinguished.
"The stage has been cleared. That means Stage Three will no longer be in use," announced Hojo Koshi, pointing at the arena. "You heard that correctly. Rock singer Chu Zhi has shut it down. All guests and performers, please move to another stage."
Before he'd even finished speaking, another wave of cheers broke out. The crowd was thrilled to have witnessed a historic moment.
The only ones not smiling were the Thai performers. In their minds, Thai rock was second only to Japan's. How could Chinese get ahead?
Surrounded by the excited crowd, Chu Zhi stepped down from the stage. A few hours still remained before the day officially ended.
"Brother Jiu, should we check out Stage Eight?" Wu Xi asked.
"Sure. Let's go together," said Chu Zhi.
The audience and performers scattered toward the remaining lit stages. The battles continued with the same fiery intensity.
Stage Eight was all about metal and hardcore. The decibel level topped 150. Anyone who stayed too long got a buzzing in their ears, their brains fried by relentless distortion.
Metal rock had countless subgenres: black metal, death metal, thrash metal, heavy metal, and more. Some of the darker variants were rare in China.
Japan's band Tyrant was a prime example of black metal, a genre dubbed the most extreme music of the 20th century.
Its features? Anti-religious themes, grim drumlines, and especially those blood-curdling, high-pitched black vocals that sounded like a demon wailing. Freaky stuff.
The music playing on stage was practically horror movie material. And the four band members dressed like literal ghouls. Chu Zhi half-worried someone with heart issues might just pass out…
"I can't get into this," Chu Zhi admitted inwardly. But he knew very well that just because he couldn't appreciate it didn't mean it was bad.
When the lead singer of Tyrant let out a roar like a devil, the crowd below roared with him. That proved how beloved this kind of music was. Chu Zhi had always respected people's reasonable preferences.
Some singers performed rock.
Others played rock.
"Brother Jiu, why not take the stage again? If you clear two stages, that'd be unprecedented," Wu Xi said.
Before Chu Zhi could answer, Zheng Huo stepped in.
"A tree that stands above the forest gets felled first," he said. "He already made history. If he keeps pushing, the organizers might not hold up. No need to stir the pot."
"I was just joking," said Wu Xi. "Anyway, four wins is already a fantastic result."
Wu Xi had faced another veteran from Japan. Not quite on Higuchi Hanato's level, but still a legend in his own right.
It's like playing a game—if an old-timer comes to challenge you, you're allowed to lose. Wu Xi lost gracefully and handed over the stage.
Chu Zhi agreed with Brother Zheng. There were too many talented performers at the festival. There was no need to hog the spotlight.
Now let's switch perspectives.
Because of Chu Zhi's breakthrough, the Naeba Ski Resort's tourist center had been temporarily converted into a command and monitoring hub.
Hojo Koshi returned and reported the status of the singer stages. The committee now had to decide: should they allow a Japanese band to clear a stage next?
They couldn't let a Chinese singer hog all the attention. The festival was about musical exchange. There were no medals or trophies, but who didn't want to be the one who cleared a stage?
Allowing a Japanese performer to clear one was easy enough. Just notify the biggest bands, and quietly make sure the Chinese, Thai, and South Korean veterans couldn't light up their tokens for a while.
The downside? It would devalue what it meant to clear a stage.
After heated discussion, the committee's elders unanimously chose money over national pride.
Take Hojo Koshi, for example. On paper, he was the president of Shimizu Culture Corporation. But 80% of Shimizu's income came from organizing the Fuji Rock Festival.
Not just the tickets for 160,000 attendees. With a crowd that size staying for three to four days, the economic impact was enormous.
And Naeba wasn't cheap—people needed food and places to stay. How could Hojo Koshi let the festival's golden brand value go down?
"We can't just maintain the brand," he said. "We need to amplify it. Make 'stage clear' a household term."
"Chu Zhi is an Asian superstar. His vocal strength is acknowledged even in the entertainment world. We're going to promote his live album and push for TV coverage."
The festival wasn't broadcast on TV. It was too long—over sixteen hours a day for four days across nine stages. So media teams on-site would upload content directly to the web.
Afterward, the live recordings would be sold on Fuji's official site. Artists got a 70% cut.
Hojo Koshi felt proud of his quick thinking. He even looked it up: We.Will.Rock.You had never been performed before.
This was going to be a smash hit. So many Little Fruits would buy the audio. He couldn't wait.
At 6 PM, the day's events wrapped up. The audience left in orderly groups, chatting about the day's highlights.
"Today was incredible. The Prince of Songs band's visual rock was dazzling."
"That We.Will.Rock.You song was the biggest surprise for me."
"Oh? You like Chu Zhi too? I absolutely adore him!"
"This was my first time seeing him. Does he have other rock songs?"
With Chu Zhi around, international conversation felt easy.
Of course, many fans were silent—not because they didn't enjoy the show, but because their voices were gone from screaming so much…
Their first victory deserved celebration. Zheng Huo offered to treat everyone to dinner. But Chu Zhi already had an appointment with Higuchi Hanato and had to leave.
Their meeting place was a fancy dining spot.
Not expensive in price or ingredients—Chu Zhi could easily afford it by now—but it had a seductive flair. The seatbacks were literally the thighs of young women.
Not a horror story. These girls, dressed in traditional kimonos, knelt with their legs in a perfect '∧' shape. Higuchi Hanato leaned against them casually, occasionally stroking their skin.
People familiar with Japanese culture knew well: they commercialized women to the extreme. Every part had a price.
"Chu-san, no need to be shy," Higuchi Hanato said with a smile.
"I'm not," Chu Zhi replied. "I just find it uncomfortable. My back's not great."
Higuchi Hanato frowned. Friends needed to be like-minded—or at least similarly corrupt. Chu Zhi's response felt like a personal insult.
If Chu Zhi had been a Japanese singer, Higuchi Hanato would've blown up already. In their world, if you didn't play dirty, you were in the wrong.
"You're so young, and already have back problems?" Higuchi Hanato chose to give him one more chance. "Tonight, I'll arrange a fantastic massage therapist for you."
Then, he changed the subject. "The Wacken Open Air Festival in Germany—I'm one of the board members. I have a recommendation slot."
Fuji Rock was the biggest festival in Asia. Wacken (WOA) was the biggest in the world. No contest.
There was even a saying in the rock world: "If you haven't been invited to WOA, you're not a real rock star."
Only a few Asian singers ever got in. Most were Japanese. But Higuchi Hanato really was on the board. That title of "Asia's Number One Guitarist" wasn't just for show.
"Any requests for your massage therapist?" he asked. "Big chest, pale legs?"
Of course Chu Zhi knew what this meant. Higuchi Hanato was offering a ticket to WOA—if he agreed to play the same dirty games.
And in Higuchi Hanato's mind, there was no reason for Chu Zhi to refuse. No rock singer in the world could say no to Wacken.
===
New novel on work "Mom's Apocalypse Survival Log". You can find it on my webnovel profile.
Lan Jin thought she knew how the apocalypse would end—struggling to survive for two long years, only to be betrayed and murdered by her cheating ex-husband and his mistress. But fate gives her a second chance. Reborn three months before the world collapses, she's armed with a space ability, a burning desire for revenge, and one unwavering goal: protect her child at all costs.
This time, she won't be naive. Armed with a space that keeps her supplies fresh and a burning desire to never be a victim again, she's ready. She's stockpiling food, securing shelter, and building a small but loyal team—including a tough-as-nails gym instructor, teenager who should be in college but ditched it for a gap year, a no-nonsense trainer with her elderly grandmother, and, of course, a very good dog.
But the apocalypse isn't just about surviving disasters. Earth itself seems determined to wipe humanity out in the cruelest, most unpredictable ways. And when the final catastrophe hits? No one could have seen it coming.