Chapter 003: Soul-Stirring Opera Leaves All in Awe!

Inside the interview room.

Taking a sip of mineral water, Zhao Dezhu let out a sigh. “None of these candidates over the past few days are up to par.”

Taking advantage of the lull between interviews, Li Hongmei nodded. “A few days ago, the headhunting company recommended three recent graduates from Harbin for me. Their voices are remarkable, and their Mandarin is above the second-level B standard. But in the end, they’re still foreigners. They can’t capture the soul of Chinese songs.”

The other main judge, a rare bearded man in this industry, picked up the conversation. “Most of the applicants recently have decent stage experience, but what they can perform are all shallow, repetitive songs. Pop music—at best, they're only scratching the surface.”

At that moment, the chief assistant, a beautiful woman among the eighteen female assistants in the room, smiled at the three judges. “There’s no need to worry, teachers. Xiao Zhang and Xiao Wang are both promising. Today will be their third callback; they should be suitable, right?”

Zhao Dezhu let out a long sigh, disappointment evident in his voice. “Those two can only be considered excellent reserves.”

Bearded Man and Li Hongmei exchanged glances, both faces tinged with bitterness.

To create a program with the potential to break out internationally, Lotus TV spared no expense—consuming vast human, material, and financial resources over a year and a half in preparation.

Yet, at the critical moment, halfway through the recruitment process, they still hadn’t found a single truly suitable candidate.

Fama’s music scene started late—pop, rock, classical; all imported. When they turned to their ancient heritage, all they could offer were lofty pieces like “Spring Snow,” “Ambush from All Sides,” and “Blue King’s Battle March”—masterworks admired by few.

But these no longer suited modern tastes. Moreover, this refined, classical music was only understood by a handful, making the audience even smaller.

After discovering the benefits of cover songs, Fama’s singers and producers lost sight of their original intentions. Nine out of ten songs were copied. Of course, imitation and covers are a good way to learn.

But imitation is just that—imitation. The melody and rhythm remain unchanged, and the only “original” aspect, the lyrics, are hollow and vapid. What does that amount to?

Sing three or four octaves and you dare call yourself the “Queen of High Notes” or “Prince of Heavenly Voices”? That’s laughable.

Release an album after churning out a dozen or so cookie-cutter songs? That’s laughable.

Don’t even understand basic composition, let alone arrangement or choreography? That’s laughable.

Out of thousands of instruments, they barely know two or three? That’s laughable.

Third-rate celebrities themselves, yet acting as judges and critics? That’s laughable.

Can’t even read a score, yet claim to improvise? That’s laughable.

Sing two foreign songs and call themselves international superstars? That’s laughable.

Every performance is just a contest of who’s suffered more? That’s laughable.

Wear a pair of jeans and call it superstar style? That’s laughable.

Without real talent, they run from one variety show to another, accept any endorsement, act in any drama or film—grab everything they can.

Some even write books, calling themselves purveyors of motivational wisdom, authors of “success manuals.” It’s embarrassing even to mention.

Of course, it’s not entirely their fault. They’d say it’s the fault of the environment.

All in all, it’s a long story. The most moving art—music—has been reduced to mediocrity in their hands.

Music has become nothing more than a tool for them to rake in money.

Precisely because they understood this, the three chief judges were utterly disheartened.

After another sigh, Zhao Dezhu spoke with a lackluster tone, “Xiao Qu, let’s continue.”

Just as Assistant Qu walked toward the door, it was suddenly flung open with a bang.

Upon seeing Le Xiaotian at the entrance, Zhao Dezhu’s face darkened. “Get him out of here—”

Before he could finish, Le Xiaotian started playing “Ninety-Nine and Eighty-One” (original Chinese song by the virtual singer Le Zhengling, this version a non-downtuned cover by Soap Bacteria). As the music began, the entire room fell silent.

He set his phone on the floor, shrugged off his suit jacket, and undid a second shirt button.

As the steady four-four beat—a staple of pop music—played, he nodded in time and massaged his throat.

The three main judges exchanged stunned glances.

Pipa timbres, theatrical percussion, a choir’s chant, pop rhythms, and that throat-rubbing gesture—this was clearly a new song blending multiple elements. At the very least, it was something they’d never heard before.

He dared to apply with no credentials, had already been thrown out once, and now burst in by kicking down the door. This was no ordinary courage.

Since it had come to this, why not listen?

With the flute, mixing, and drums as backing, Le Xiaotian entered right on cue, opening with a voice full of glory: “On the road, in Gongzhou, encounter the tiger and bear.”

In that instant, the three chief judges, the eighteen female assistants, and the two security guards were all dumbfounded.

Le Xiaotian continued in a resounding, powerfully penetrating theatrical style: “Five hundred years ago, a mad storm, once again Sun Wukong ascends the sky!”

As the judges looked at each other, it was the three with the highest standards who were most astonished.

Though the pitch wasn’t extremely high, this young man was using his true voice!

With no need for post-production, his live vocals blended perfectly with the music from his phone.

If they hadn’t seen it with their own eyes, they’d never believe he was singing live under these conditions.

Put him in a studio, and he’d pass in one take—a singer of godlike caliber!

Most crucially, though they didn’t know who the “Sun Wukong” in the lyrics was, the young man’s slightly fierce expression, his eyes brimming with aggression, those black pupils that seemed to devour everything, the wild energy radiating from his whole body—it was enough to make one’s blood run cold.

His vocal performance conveyed an overwhelming wealth of information—pride, dominance, tyranny, sharpness, conviction—all were audible.

It was as if he could overturn heaven and earth, shatter stars, slay gods and demons.

This aura of invincibility, of annihilating all that stands in his way, carried a palpable fury and an unyielding courage to fight against everything.

In his presence, the so-called chief judges felt as insignificant as ants before the vastness of the world—a chasm between them.

He brought the soul of the character in the song to life.

Vivid. Transcendent.

As everyone in the room found themselves nodding and tapping along to the rhythm, Le Xiaotian poured his emotions into the music.

On Earth, in China, Sun Wukong is the most beloved character from “Journey to the West,” and he was no exception. Now, how similar was his own situation?

The music industry was mired in chaos. As the universal enemy of the celebrity world, what he needed was unmatched pride and dominance.

Whether as orchestra conductor, opera director, band leader, choir master, musician, performer, arranger, composer, writer, painter, director—every kind of artist was his opponent!

Any star disrupting the harmony of the music world had to be dealt with, utterly defeated!

Since Le Xiaotian had taken on this mission, then it would be his duty to set the order for the music world!

He would stake everything—his stage name, Xiaotian Gege, and his alias, Ziyang Dada!

Still carrying the emotion of his performance of the divine song “For Victory,” Le Xiaotian’s delivery at this moment was nothing short of magical.