The venue was silent.
For the first time in WOA's history, such quiet had fallen. Even audiences from the other three stages turned their heads in curiosity.
Earlier, the heavy metal stage had been described as a steel beast in its design. Now, that steel beast seemed to have been tamed.
It was no surprise—WOA's musical environment was dominated by aggression, making Chu Zhi's performance an anomaly. So much so that even Seven Man's intense tracks like Dagger and Triumphal Arch were completely erased from the audience's minds. Now, most listeners were mentally replaying "Oh mama mia, mama mia."
This was no small feat. Death metal and black metal were the nuclear weapons of music festivals. But Chu Zhi had achieved his goal—Queen's Bohemian Rhapsody had worked like a charm.
The lead singer of Phoenix Fire Band summed it up: "A six-minute piece blending folk, guitar solos, hard rock, operatic arias, and multi-part harmonies… with lyrics that barely connect. In any other song, this chaos would be a disaster. Yet Bohemian Rhapsody makes me want to listen again."
"I preferred the folk part—it felt like the art of a suicidal man. I bet this Chinese singer has seen darker things than any black metal lyric," the guitarist added.
Even Frozen Man Band, who had been drawn back to the backstage area, was stunned. Their drummer, the most handsome member (as was oddly common in many bands), Medant Lai, looked up information.
"Turns out the guy on stage isn't some nobody. He made more dollars last year than all five of us combined. The only Asian in Forbes' Top 10 Global Celebrities. Huge in Asia," Medant Lai said. "Oh, and Sugar? That viral hit? His song."
This context made it easier for Frozen Man Band to accept—"So he's not some random newcomer, but an established star."
Medant Lai had taken a liking to Chu Zhi, partly because of the music, partly because handsome men appreciate other handsome men.
"Showing off," Frozen Man's lead singer Jack Ray muttered. His bandmates gave him odd looks.
"The song is a fireworks display of pure talent. Bohemian Rhapsody is something no one else on this planet could've written. Bringing it out live? No reason except to flex," Jack explained.
Most bands praised the song, even if they didn't personally love it. None could deny the sheer brilliance radiating from Bohemian Rhapsody.
Well… except one person. Seven Man's biased lead singer, Leighton, dismissed it as "just weird Chinese tricks."
"Novelty only wins once. Never twice. Try playing real heavy metal next time."
The rest of Seven Man knew—their plan to overshadow Chu Zhi had failed.
Half a minute later, the crowd erupted:
"Encore!"
"One more!"
"Oh my God, we need another song!"
The decibel level instantly met the requirement. Not everyone had fallen in love with Bohemian Rhapsody yet, but they all wanted to hear more.
Chu Zhi had used Bohemian Rhapsody as his shocking opener. Now, for the encore, he would deliver his true knockout. As staff removed the piano, Chu Zhi chugged two large gulps of Wuliangye liquor from his red thermos. Then he picked up a strange instrument—one 90% of the audience had never seen before.
"What's that?"
"An erhu? I think it's a Chinese instrument."
"This guy's music is so weird."
"Weird? It's amazing. 'Galileo, Galileo'—how many songs have hooks that stick after one listen? He's unique."
Audiences from France, Germany, the U.S., Norway, Finland—all had traveled far for this moment. Now, regardless of nationality, they were united in discussing one thing: the same song.
"The next song—The Praise of Tes River," Chu Zhi announced.
The instrument in his hands wasn't an erhu, but a morin khuur (horsehead fiddle).
Unlike the last song, this one began with a frenzied bass solo. China's veteran rockers might have lost their voices over the years, but their bass skills were untouchable.
Chu Zhi raised his right hand, lifting and dropping it to the rapid drumbeats.
"Ho!"
"Ho ho ho—"
The crowd roared along. This was why WOA's atmosphere was legendary.
Behind the drum kit, Li Cui smashed the cymbals violently. The electric guitar kicked in, the intro evoking a stampede of wild horses across the grasslands.
Then Chu Zhi drew his bow across the morin khuur.
For some reason, the Europeans in the crowd felt something awaken in their DNA. The entire audience began jumping and thrashing.
With "Drunken Immortal" activated and "First Emperor's Voice" at 80%, Chu Zhi sang in Mongolian:
🎵 "Rushing down from Mount Bulanai, sweet as sugar water, flowing through the ancient grasslands."
"The five sacred rivers that bless all life, soaking the earth, tiring the joyful lambs." 🎵
Chu Zhi knew the history—The Praise of Tes River was originally a Mongolian folk song, but the band The HU had rearranged it into metal, taking Europe by storm.
Even the Chinese listeners couldn't understand Mongolian. But with Chu Zhi's First Emperor's Voice, they felt the thunder of ten thousand cavalrymen charging.
It was terrifying. And exhilarating.
"Ho ho ho—"
The crowd howled, waving flags, flailing arms.
This frenzy matched Frozen Man and Seven People's performances—except for one difference. Many listeners felt their legs weaken under the weight of the vocals.
🎵 "Calming the frightened foals, the five rivers with divine power."
"Tes River, Tes River, the galloping Tes River."
"Tes River, Tes River, the galloping Tes River…" 🎵
Who was the First Emperor? The man who unified China, standardized writing and currency, declared himself "Shi Huangdi"—the first sovereign ruler. Chu Zhi's gaze swept forward, his voice commanding an army to conquer the world.
The dust kicked up by hooves clouded minds.
Astonishing.
Astonishing.
And still more astonishing.
Even without understanding the lyrics, the crowd instinctively formed circles, hands on shoulders, spinning wildly.
In most festivals, getting strangers to link up like this would be impossible. But under The Praise of Tes River's rhythm, they moved like sheep herded by an unstoppable force.
"?" Jack Ray stared at his bandmates—even his guitarist and bassist were caught in the frenzy. Only drummer Medant Lai remained somewhat composed, though his legs twitched.
Medant Lai returned the stunned look. "First an experimental curveball, now a full-force metal assault? What language is this? Not Mandarin. The guy on stage feels like Alexander the Great."
"Some Turkic language, maybe? I don't know," Medant admitted, slapping his thighs. "Last year, I watched Caesar: The Conqueror—starring Hawking. This feels the same. Like an emperor is singing. I don't even know what I'm saying. Maybe I'm delirious."
"Hey, brother, they say we look alike. I had the same thought," Jack said. "I don't understand the lyrics, but I bet it's about conquering the world."
Look alike? Medant Lai felt this was the worst insult to his looks ever.
The heavy metal stage drowned out the other three. Shouts and roars nearly overpowered the music itself.
🎵 "With the stride of a warhorse, racing toward Lake Uvs, providing for man and beast."
"The famed five Tes Rivers, where generations have lived." 🎵
Mongolian held a primal grip on Europeans. Centuries ago, Genghis Khan's cavalry had swept across the continent. Now, Chu Zhi's Praise of Tes River, infused with the "Whip of God" and First Emperor's Voice, was an unstoppable force.
No one could resist.
"Whose general is this, so fierce?" a Chinese audience member muttered.
"General? This isn't a general—this is the emperor himself!"
"Jiu-yé—fucking legendary."
"Holy shit, holy shit. After this, I'm hitting Ranked. Nothing's stopping me tonight, not even Jesus."
"Horsehead fiddle and Mongolian? Since when was Mongolian metal this good?"
This was the reaction among Chinese fans.
On Earth, The HU's version had already made waves at festivals. But Chu Zhi's rendition, enhanced by Drunken Immortal and First Emperor's Voice, was on another level.
🎵 "Blessing all since ancient times, where sables and martens thrive, the five abundant rivers."
"Tes River, Tes River, the galloping Tes River."
"Tes River, Tes River, the galloping Tes River…" 🎵
The song ended. The cavalry retreated, but the dust of their charge lingered. The music stopped, but the conqueror's voice remained burned into minds.
Even after Chu Zhi and Revival Band left the stage, the crowd stood frozen.
Then, after ten seconds—thunderous applause.
"I love this Chinese singer. His name is Chu Zhi. I'll remember it."
"It's like he's using metal to conquer the world. I'm adding him to my favorite bands. That bassist was insane too."
"I need their albums!"
"I don't understand the words, but I want to conquer something!"
The excitement didn't fade. Some burly men flexed their fists, itching to hit something.
WOA had no voting system, no challenges like Fuji Rock. But everyone knew who had left the deepest impression tonight.
Phoenix Fire Band's lead singer murmured, "Tonight belongs to Chu Zhi and his music."
He hadn't even performed yet, but after that display, he had no complaints. Rock musicians were confident—but some forces were beyond competition.
That voice—it was too domineering.
Some remembered the earlier incident—
"No wonder Leighton recommended him. I heard he hates China, so it was weird. Now I get it—pure talent."
"Leighton endorsing Chu Zhi might become music history someday."
"Remember? Seven Man said they're all fans. Chu Zhi could at least reach their level."
Seven Man heard all of this.