Young singer-songwriter Li Jun, once again challenged his senior, Yu Lan. Fueled by the frustration of two prior defeats, he gave it everything he had—and still charged headfirst into a third loss.
Li Jun was one of the rare post-'95 musicians who still insisted on performing his own original work. He had talent, no doubt, but it was impossible to win over someone like Gunman with just a dozen votes. He had simply picked the wrong opponent.
Yu Lan's experimental music always had an "above it all" aura. Most of the public judges couldn't really understand it, but they'd still throw out compliments, as if doing so made them sound more professional.
In the second match, Koguchi Yoshihiro stepped up. He was torn—on one hand, he really wanted to share the stage with Chu-san, but facing off as rivals...
In the end, he chose to battle Gunman. Rock music was hugely popular in Japan, and they even had their own visual kei subculture.
Gunman might have pushed himself too hard during his last performance. He sang the high notes of the chorus with raw vocals and kept his tortured, despairing vocal style. This time, the emo-rock delivery was still there, but the high notes were gone, leaving only a hollow kind of melancholy.
Koguchi's passionate, energized performance won the round.
Zuo Yang Fei Xing commented: "From the arrangement and lyrics of We Are Here, it feels like it was supposed to be an inspiring rock anthem. But it still ended up as the same old 'trash rock.' Honestly, getting a bit tired of it."
Yu Hua Cheng Shi said: "Koguchi-sensei maintained his usual solid level, and the song was above average. Gunman's lyrics in earlier rounds were like bullets of despair—classic trash rock at its best. But this time? Not disappointed, just not surprised."
These two public judges weren't introduced by name yet. As for "trash rock," that label came from its "dirty" sound—distorted guitars, raw emotions, and lyrics steeped in pessimism and nihilism. And Gunman? He was the textbook example.
Producer Che Lun was starting to like Chu Zhi more and more. If circumstances allowed, he'd probably be burning incense and swearing brotherhood with him already.
Koguchi had only reached the top four in I Am Truly a Singer, but his popularity in Huaxia wasn't small. Several domestic shows had reached out to him afterward, but he turned them all down.
The reason was simple—Japan was his base, his foundation. Yet Che Lun had managed to invite him with very little cost. Why? Because Chu Zhi was a guest on this show.
Then came the third match. No surprise—Jo Kwon challenged Chu Zhi.
Honestly, it was partly Chu Zhi's team's fault. They never released the official versions of Compendium of Materia Medica or The Opera, so the general public only really knew about Chu Zhi's stage fright and PTSD.
Well, even if the tracks had been released, they probably would have been overshadowed by his personal struggles. In today's attention economy, people cared more about drama than music.
Besides, those songs were meant for his next album, and the agency was never going to release them early.
"Old Nine is definitely going to lose," Yu Lan muttered, gloating. "You had perfectly good Chinese-style songs, but no—you had to mess around with classical rap."
The only ones who actually believed in Chu Zhi were Koguchi and Jo Kwon. The latter had heard Compendium of Materia Medica and knew Chu Zhi wasn't weak at all when it came to rap. Besides, if he were going to beat someone, he wanted that person to be strong. Otherwise, what would his victory mean?
Chu Zhi and Jo Kwon headed off for makeup and wardrobe changes. Since neither of them were guest challengers this time, they had to discuss their performance order themselves.
"I'd like to go first, if that's alright," Jo Kwon said. Just like he had volunteered to go first in the demo round, he was building momentum.
"Sure," Chu Zhi said, gesturing for him to go ahead.
Jo Kwon took the stage with his track, two. fish—an energetic EDM song. He wore a silver-white wig and an outrageous patchwork outfit: a white suit jacket on top, a blue hoodie that started at the waist, no pants, and a black leather kilt that resembled a Scottish skirt. The whole look was covered in shiny metallic accessories.
The lighting crew had clearly prepped for this. With every move, his glittering costume caught the light, turning him into a spinning crystal top.
Despite the dancing, his vocals stayed steady. Yu Lan noticed it right away—Chu Zhi had pushed Jo Kwon to go all out. In earlier performances, Jo Kwon had only danced a little to hype the crowd. Now he was going full throttle.
Koguchi's inner monologue: This Korean star has energy, sure. But Chu-san's charisma? That's unmatched.
Broadcast: [Singer Chu Zhi, please take the stage.]
No host to cue the performances—just a system broadcast. It always felt like those old school announcements from back in the day.
"Five-point drunk. Just enough to set the mood," Chu Zhi murmured as he stepped out. He had come a long way. Back in his early singing days, he had no makeup artist and no performance costume. Now, his team meticulously crafted every outfit.
The moment he stepped under the stage lights, he stunned the 300-member audience—and even Koguchi. He wore a flat-topped top hat, a monocle, black leather gloves, and a tailored tuxedo with no tails. A long cape draped behind him.
"This is The Seventh Chapter of the Night. I hope you enjoy it," Chu Zhi said. The look was a darker, more gothic version of Kaitou Kid.
He lowered his hat slightly. The prelude began.
Cello and marimba, woven together in a style similar to Schubert's Serenade, painted a distinct British atmosphere. This was why it was called "classical rap"—because it literally began with classical music.
But unlike standard classical melodies, there was a hidden violin line in the background, subtle and shadowy, evoking the image of Jack the Ripper stalking London's foggy streets. A new victim, a scream, another corpse found.
Classical, gothic, and dark aesthetics merged in the prelude. It was utterly captivating. Liang Zhengwen listened, bewildered.
"December 1893, a quiet alley. The seventh chapter of night, the typewriter clicks closer to truth."
"Smoke from a heather pipe, drifting toward dying trees, silent tears speak to me. In the round plaza near Baker Street, the knight's armor gleams faintly with an iris crest."
Chu Zhi's enunciation in his rap was unusual. The emphasis didn't land on "tears," but on "gleams faintly." His voice carried a touch of mockery, perfectly timed with a flicker in the stage lights.
The Seventh Chapter of the Night was considered a masterpiece of arrangement—arguably one of the strongest examples of classical rap and gothic fusion.
Other iconic songs in that category included In the Name of the Father and Ending the War.
"Echoes of a driverless carriage. A midnight visit. Evil beneath Victoria's moonlight. A bloody opening scene. The vanished gun. The charred cane. A melting wax figure."
"Who wasn't there? The symbols on the jewelry box. A façade of meaning. A dead-end built on lies. Evidence buried flawlessly. The smirk that mocks Scotland Yard."
The stage lights dimmed bit by bit. The imagery was so vivid that the audience felt like they were watching a murder mystery unfold. A cruel killer. A relentless detective. A standoff no one could interrupt.
Scotland Yard tried to step in, but the genius killer ran circles around them.
On stage, a fake wall made of translucent plastic was used. When a spotlight hit it, it cast a shadow behind it. Chu Zhi stepped into the darkness.
On Earth, the original Seventh Chapter of the Night had been a duet between Jay Chou and Pan Wei Bo. The haunting soprano in the chorus left a deep impression. Chu Zhi sang both parts, using falsetto.
A male soprano? Could that even compare to a real female high note? And Chu Zhi's upper register had a eunuch-like clarity.
"If evil is a beautifully cruel symphony…"
"I will write its final movement with my own hands."
Chu Zhi's voice surpassed the original female soprano. Everyone in the venue broke out in goosebumps.