Who hit it first? Pain Flower Band!
Their members were doing everything—tiptoeing, craning their necks, plucking at guitars. Dae-gan, their big-eyed leader, sensed it was a now-or-never moment. He didn't hesitate.
"Is my token busted? Or is there some system lag?" said Chu Zhi. He was certain he'd pressed the button a good seven or eight seconds before the screeching alert went off.
Members of Pattern 14 had similar suspicions. The man nicknamed Heptagon, usually with sleepy eyes, now had his eyes wide open—making his already narrow gaze appear even smaller.
"Did I just fumble that?" Heptagon silently wondered.
Triangle and Pentagram both turned to look at their bandleader, saying nothing—just watching him quietly.
"You two sure talk a lot," Heptagon snapped, clearly irritated.
Pentagram: "..."
Triangle: "..."
Rock musicians all had distinctive styles, and the members of Pattern Fourteen were no different. Pentagram stroked his bald head, where a five-pointed star was tattooed directly onto his scalp.
Triangle had a fierce look about him and wore a small pyramid-shaped tongue piercing—he didn't look like someone you'd want to mess with.
"Pain Flower is a live-performance band," said Zheng Huo. "Their stage presence hits harder than their studio recordings. A lot of their fans actually want them to release live albums instead of regular ones."
Zheng Huo knew all the up-and-comers in the domestic rock scene. When Chu Zhi heard that, he recalled Pain Flower's performance from the Rock Night a year ago—it had indeed left a strong impression.
Some people are just made for competition. Without pressure, they can't bring out their best. Chu Zhi didn't envy that kind of talent. He preferred victories he could count on—ones he could secure without even going all-out, ideally with some of his strength still hidden.
The audience gave a polite round of applause to welcome the new challenger band onto the stage. The loudest clapper was a man with a lumpy forehead: Liao Yiwu, who'd taken a bump right at the start.
"Go, go, go! Show them what you've got, Pain Flower! Bring back the same energy you had at the Wheatfield Music Festival when you turned it into your personal concert."
"Take down this so-called Thai band!" Liao Yiwu silently cheered them on.
"We are Pain Flower, and the song we'll be performing is called 'Poor Man's Gold Rush,'" announced Dae-gan.
The matchup felt appropriate. Chu Zhi didn't understand Thai, but the song the Thai band had played earlier—some fusion of Buddhist chanting and rock—had English subtitles onscreen. The message was still clear: a condemnation of exploitative capitalism.
The lyrics were repetitive and fiery, the arrangement intense, complete with a crowd-pleasing guitar solo. Lines like "The poor man's sin is poverty. Get rich, kill sin. Wealth builds a better home for all" danced on the edge between satire and extremism.
Five minutes passed, and the crowd at Stage 3 started chanting. At first, the calls were scattered, but soon they formed two clear waves: "Chinese Band!" and "Thai Band!"
For most of the audience, calling out the name of a foreign band was a hassle. So they stuck to these simple nicknames.
The back-and-forth shouting turned into a single chant: "Encore!"
In this battle-of-the-bands format, "Encore" didn't mean Pain Flower should play another song. It meant there was no clear winner. The Thai band had to perform again.
But didn't more people just cheer for the Chinese Band? Pain Flower's five members all thought the same.
"No, the Thai Band clearly had louder cheers. If we'd held on a bit longer, we would've won!"
The seven members of the Thai band were visibly frustrated.
The motto of the Fuji Rock Festival was "Win Over the Audience." Even though they weren't happy, the Thai band had no choice but to perform another song.
Their second piece was also Buddhist-rock fusion, this time mixed with Thai folk music. It had novelty the first time, but the charm wore off quickly. In terms of musicality, it fell flat.
"This one's not as strong as the last," Chu Zhi concluded. The Buddhist elements were a great flourish in the first performance, but this time they felt like the main act—and that didn't work as well.
Sure enough, once the Thai band finished, the chanting surged again. This time, "Chinese Band" clearly overpowered "Thai Band." The Thai side's voices faded until only one name remained echoing around the stage.
Pain Flower won the round.
🎵Grass grows green by the river, hey hey, I ain't takin' a bath!🎵
"Yes! We did it!"
Dae-gan was thrilled inside but kept a calm expression. He exchanged glances with his four bandmates. Their eyes locked—no words needed. They were ready to go all out.
Now that they'd become the stage champions, the real challenge had just begun.
"Thanks. So, any bands want to challenge us next?" Dae-gan called out confidently.
There were two ways to clear the stage: win nine matches in a row, or finish your set with no one daring to challenge you. In over twenty years, no band had ever done it.
Of course there were challengers. The music started up again—this time, it was a rock band from Vietnam.
Chu Zhi finally confirmed it wasn't that his token was broken, just delayed. The Vietnamese band had been pressing theirs long before the signal went off.
"My hand speed shouldn't be losing to anyone," he thought. "This body's been single for over twenty years. Losing in speed? That makes no sense."
As he was thinking, the Vietnamese band's intro echoed across the stage.
Maybe they were big in Vietnam—why else would they be invited? But the country's economic and musical limitations were very real. Pain Flower easily defended their position.
Two wins in a row.
The next challenger was Pattern 14. Dae-gan spotted Heptagon's red-flashing token in the crowd. His fighting spirit flared up.
"We've been waiting for you," he said, eyes blazing.
Tonight was the night for revenge.
Chu Zhi didn't get in again.
"Don't stress too much about that little token," said Zheng Huo, noticing Chu Zhi's disappointed expression. "That thing's junk. It's been like this for years. Whether you get picked isn't about speed—it's just dumb luck and signal timing."
Zheng Huo continued, "It's not your hand speed. You're just having bad luck."
Not about skill but luck? That annoyed Chu Zhi even more. What a joke. He'd won two top-tier mystery box prizes—wasn't he a certified lucky guy?
"Well, whatever. I'll just enjoy watching the guests perform." Chu Zhi quickly shook it off.
Zheng Huo ran down the current threats on Stage 3: Japan's Winter Snowburst and AFZ, along with the challenger Pattern Fourteen. These three were heavy hitters in both popularity and talent.
It was clear from the way Zheng Huo spoke—he had absolute faith in Chu Zhi. He didn't even bother naming any non-Japanese bands.
As Pattern 14's five members passed by on their way to the stage, they greeted Chu Zhi.
"Mr. Ragdoll, hope we get a chance to jam someday."
"Really looking forward to hearing your rock, Mr. Chu."
"Can't wait to see your visual rock, Mr. Chu."
Clearly, the reputation Chu Zhi had built in Japan had carried over. Even though the members of Pattern 14 had only heard one song from his EP—"Mark of Loyalty"—they treated him with respect.
You don't start fights with people who smile at you, and Chu Zhi, who genuinely liked making friends, responded warmly.
But something during those greetings caught his attention.
"Doesn't that tongue piercing hurt?" Chu Zhi asked, looking at Triangle, who'd just spoken and revealed the metal stud on his tongue. It looked painful just to see it.
Tongue piercings weren't worn on the tip—they went through the middle of the tongue…