Wacken Town had plenty of Beck's beer on hand, since the brand was a sponsor of the Summer Breeze Music Festival. After seeing how a metal music event brought tens of thousands of visitors to the town every year, they naturally developed a kind of path dependence. So, in April and May, they also scheduled a smaller festival.
Even so, Summer Breeze's popularity was far from the peak. It only drew around ten thousand visitors annually, compared to the metal festival's nearly one hundred thousand. Clearly, there was still work to do.
When Chu Zhi arrived, he strolled around for a bit. The town had the classic, solemn Gothic style of northern Germany. Regular Gothic architecture tended to be tall and slender, but here the elongated columns had a more solid build, the flying buttresses had sharper, more pronounced edges, and the domed spires were shorter and stouter.
The most common buildings were churches, but even more common were little shops selling W:O:A merchandise. Without at least a few dozen euros, you couldn't walk away with even a T-shirt.
"Look at all the tents," Chu Zhi murmured.
"Let's drop our stuff off at the hotel first, then come back to take a look," Lao Qian suggested.
"That works." Chu Zhi nodded.
Lao Qian, speaking in halting German, communicated with the driver and headed for their lodging.
Although WOA's organizers arranged accommodation for invited guests, Chu Zhi had been invited by a brand sponsor. Just like many film festivals, that meant he had to handle his own lodging and travel.
Wacken itself had no hotels, only a few bed-and-breakfasts, and those had been booked solid a month ago. The only choice was to stay about ten kilometers away, in the nearby town of Itzehoe.
Foreign hotel names could be surprisingly straightforward. For example, their current stop—the "Klosterhof Ste Mercure Hotel"—made it obvious it was named after its founder.
Lao Qian told the driver to rest for now and said they'd call if needed. Lao Qiu hadn't come along because he didn't have a German driver's license, meaning they could only rent a private car.
"You're amazing, Brother Qian. Just like Brother Chu, you both speak so many languages," said Xiao Zhu. "Meanwhile, I can't even pass the CET-4 English test, and because I can't pass… I'm really sad."
Watching Lao Qian chat with the hotel receptionist, Chu Zhi agreed. Counting his native tongue, he could handle five languages, though that was partly thanks to a language-learning "blind box" system.
Love was the best language teacher. Without a doubt, one of Lao Qian's ex-girlfriends had been German.
The room was a comfortable single, only eighteen square meters. Normally, it cost just over nine hundred yuan per night, but today it was fifteen hundred.
This wasn't price-gouging, though. Europeans didn't hike prices during special events or holidays. The "discount price" was actually the regular price, and at peak times, they simply reverted to the original.
"Start with 'Bohemian Rhapsody,' then bring out the trump card," Chu Zhi thought, already preparing a big surprise for the European audience.
He had brought his beloved guitar along. It wasn't high-end, but it was the only instrument the original owner had learned, and the first thing he'd ever bought with his own earnings. It had accompanied him to China's Rock Night and Japan's Fuji Rock Festival, showing him the grandeur of the wider world.
After carefully setting the guitar aside, Chu Zhi went over the details of the next day's advertisement shoot with Lao Qian. That was another reason the Emperor Beast had arrived early—there were other matters to handle.
He asked Xiao Zhu to iron his stage outfit for the next day and pulled out a bottle of Wuliangye from his suitcase, ready for the Immortal Wine.
Their plan was to head out after five o'clock. Chu Zhi glanced at the time—still a little early—and opened his email to check WOA's guest list.
Iced Earth, Young Quark, Phoenix Fire, Yang Fan, and more—every band with a household name seemed to be attending.
Their résumés and reputations were top tier. Phoenix Fire, a Finnish band, had won the 25th American Music Award for Favorite Heavy Metal Artist in 2001, the Grammy for Best Alternative Music Performance in 2002, and had been inducted into the Rock and Roll Hall of Fame in 2015. With 75 million albums sold, they were regarded by many fans as the number one death metal band.
But there was one thing Chu Zhi had over all of them—earning power.
Even Iced Earth, the highest-grossing band with over 100 million albums sold, had been beaten by Chu Zhi in last year's Forbes Celebrity list.
"My two EPs plus one studio album barely total over ten million in sales," Chu Zhi thought. "That's only possible because I started back in the silver age of CDs. Does any singer in the internet era still have a chance to sell over 100 million albums?"
It was much like his previous life's Earth. Jay Chou was a legend, but even his total album plus single sales were only a little over twenty million, second only to Jacky Cheung's twenty-seven million.
"These top bands don't have a single act with fewer than fifty million sales. In some ways, maybe that's the benchmark for becoming a legendary band."
"Step by step," Chu Zhi told himself. He needed to release more albums and reap a harvest overseas—especially since he had so many classic works yet to share.
While browsing WOA's info, time slipped by. After five, Chu Zhi, Lao Qian, and Little Bamboo headed back to Wacken Town.
The festival wouldn't officially begin for two more days, yet the place was already packed. There were five stages in total, and fans could camp anywhere around the main stage. Many RVs had parked here a week in advance to claim prime spots, since the festival lasted three days and nights.
Anyone arriving as late as Chu Zhi would find the inner circle already full, forced to camp two or three kilometers from the stage.
"There's a Viking Village over there. Pretty good attraction," Lao Qian pointed out.
Following his lead, they toured the Viking Village—and unexpectedly ran into someone.
"Chu-san, you came to WOA too?" Higuchi Hanato greeted him warmly, as if he hadn't tried to trip him up before.
What was his name again? For people he didn't consider worth remembering, Chu Zhi didn't bother making mnemonic rhymes. All he recalled was something about "flower mouth."
"Didn't expect to see a familiar face here," Chu Zhi replied with polite cordiality.
"'In the Spring' and 'We Will Rock You' were both outstanding performances. What will you sing this time? 'We Will Rock You' isn't exactly a fit for a metal festival," Higuchi Hanato remarked.
Wacken's core was indeed metal music, so the comment wasn't false—but his tone was hardly well-meaning.
"This is my first time at WOA, so I'm just here to broaden my horizons," Chu Zhi answered sincerely. At that moment, the Emperor Beast's expression perfectly matched a certain meme—[Look Into My Honest Eyes.JPG].
"Oh, oh, oh, Iced Earth and Phoenix Fire's stages should be exciting," Higuchi said.
After a few more pleasantries, they parted ways.
As he watched Chu Zhi walk away, the chill in Higuchi's gaze could have dripped to the ground like sewage.
"Baka. The committee's invitation list hadn't included him, so how had he gotten in?"
He called a friend on the organizing team to find out. Moments later, his face burned. He had bragged with absolute confidence that Chu Zhi, who had turned down his offer of friendship, would never make it to WOA—yet here he was.
Within minutes, the friend called back. Chu Zhi had been recommended by a brand sponsor.
"Broaden his horizons"? For someone who had already defeated him? Higuchi didn't believe it for a second.
First time at WOA? Too fake. Wasn't the Fuji Rock Festival also his first time? And he had instantly pulled off a "full-house" show.