127: Chapter 126 Brother, I won't let you get away with this.

Exactly 8:00.

"Beep—"

The system prompt tone rang out synchronously across the three major live streaming platforms.

The screen split into two.

On the left, a Modu flat.

Against a flashing background of a black-and-white graffiti wall, Huang Zitao wore a baggy black printed T-shirt, the Cuban chain around his neck gleaming with a cold metallic light.

He wore sunglasses, a lollipop's plastic stick dangling from his mouth.

On the right, the Chengdu studio.

White walls, a wooden table.

Su Chen wore a plain white T-shirt without any patterns, his hair half-dry, holding a cup of warm water in his hand.

On the screens of twenty-five million online viewers, the left and right sides formed a strong visual contrast.

At this second, the bullet comments completely flooded the screen.

[Ahhhhhhh! A once-in-a-century shared frame!]

[The visual contrast is too huge; one is heavy metal street style, and the other is a veteran cadre's health-preservation session.]

[Taozi's aura is absolute; he really prepared for a long time for today!]

[God Su's cup of plain water directly maxed out the aura of coolness.]

[My phone is lagging so badly that I can't see the bullet comments at all!]

[Stop sending bullet comments in front, you're blocking my view of God Su!]

Tencent Video Data Center.

Operations Director Li Hong pressed his hands against the control console, staring fixedly at the traffic line graph on the screen.

"The peak has broken thirty million!"

The technician's voice was hoarse.

"Hold steady! Have the paid trolls' IPs been cleared out?"

"They're all completely cleared! Not a single IP segment from South Korea can get in!"

Operations Director Li Hong let out a long breath, his gaze shifting to the main screen.

This smokeless war had reached its most critical moment.

Yanjing Apartment.

Yan Yu stared at the split screen of her live broadcast room, her hands tightly clenched together.

"Family, it's starting."

Yan Yu's voice trembled, "Taozi is going to speak."

In the co-hosting screen feed.

Huang Zitao looked at the man wearing a white T-shirt on the right side of the screen.

Five years.

Over eighteen hundred days and nights.

Back then in the Seoul basement, the senior martial brother who held a metronome and sternly criticized him for unstable breath control was now sitting right across the screen.

Huang Zitao raised his right hand and pinched the frame of his sunglasses.

He yanked off his sunglasses and threw them on the table.

"Snap."

The sound spread across the entire network through the microphone.

Then, he spat out the lollipop from his mouth, held it in his hand, and stared straight into the camera.

"Brother Su."

Huang Zitao opened his mouth, his voice carrying suppressed excitement, "Long time no see."

Su Chen put down the water cup in his hand.

He looked at the flamboyant young man on the left side of the screen, a gentle arc tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"Long time no see, you've grown up."

Su Chen's voice was steady.

Huang Zitao lifted his chin: "Don't talk to me in that tone used for coaxing children. Yesterday, that trilingual Rap of yours in Five Ha, I saw it."

He leaned forward, moving closer to the microphone.

"People in the circle all say you are the omni-S-rated big demon king who knows everything and masters everything. But back in the company, I, Huang Zitao, was a dedicated Rap S."

Huang Zitao tapped his fingers on the tabletop with a distinct rhythm.

"Today, we're co-hosting, and we won't compare Dancing, music arrangement, or high notes. We will only compare Rap."

Huang Zitao stared at Su Chen in the screen, his gaze sharp, "Fair. But I won't go easy on you."

Su Chen looked at Huang Zitao's look of facing a formidable enemy while eager to try.

He knew that Huang Zitao had been waiting for this day for three years.

That Trainee from back then who practiced in the basement until his throat inflamed and still pushed through now needed a stage to hand in an answer sheet to his former teacher.

Su Chen adjusted the position of his headphones.

"Alright."

Su Chen smiled slightly, without the slightest concession in his tone, "Then I won't stand on ceremony."

The bullet comment pool boiled over once again.

[Taozi is too fierce! Directly casting a big ultimate in the face!]

[This is called confidence! The current top-tier rapper has drawn his sword against the big demon king!]

[God Su's line 'Then I won't stand on ceremony' made my scalp tingle.]

[What is a sense of oppression? This is a sense of oppression! No need to make harsh threats, a single smile is enough.]

[The scene of martial brothers breaking off relations? No, this is a man's romance!]

[High-energy warning ahead, non-combat personnel please evacuate!]

Yan Yu quickly explained in the live broadcast room: "Pay attention to Taozi's state. He isn't using his usual flippant variety show persona. He is now challenging God Su as a professional rapper. He said he is a Rap S, and that's a fact. In recent years, his accumulation in the Rap field has been extremely deep. And what God Su showed yesterday was old-school BoomBap and multilingual switching. Tonight's match is definitely Mars hitting Earth."

On the screen.

Huang Zitao straightened his body, resting his hands on the keyboard.

"Since it's a PK, there has to be some rules."

Huang Zitao looked at the camera, "Three rounds determine the winner. The first round, thematic Freestyle. The second round, exchanging Beats for lyric writing. The third round, a cappella."

Su Chen nodded: "Sure. What is the theme for the first round?"

Huang Zitao glanced at the broken wooden guitar on the wall.

"The theme, memories."

Huang Zitao's voice lowered.

"Just write about these five years. Write about what we experienced from coming out of that basement to standing here today."

Su Chen's gaze flickered slightly.

He understood the intention behind Huang Zitao choosing this theme.

Memories were their shared pain point, and also their shared starting point.

"Alright."

Su Chen agreed.

Huang Zitao clicked the mouse.

"First round, I'll go first."

Huang Zitao brought up the arrangement software, "Brother Su, listen up. For this Beat, I had a top American producer lay down the foundation, and I modified it myself for half a month. BPM110, hardcore Trap."

He pressed the play button.

"Boom!"

A muffled kick drum sound smashed out.

Following closely, dense hi-hats and a heavy 808 bassline intertwined, forming an aggressive wave of sound.

Huang Zitao bobbed his neck to the drumbeat, his gaze turning fierce.

He gripped the microphone, preparing to cut into the first breath interval.

The right screen.

Su Chen listened to the powerful accompaniment coming through his headphones, his expression unchanged.

His right hand gripped the mouse, dragging an audio track in his own arrangement software.

He didn't look for those fancy synthesizers, nor did he stack complex basslines.

He only chose the most primitive BoomBap drum kit.

"Click."

Mouse click.

Su Chen's preparation work was completed.

He released the mouse, crossed his hands on the tabletop, and quietly waited for Huang Zitao's opening.

The bullet comments were flying past rapidly.

[Taozi's Beat is too explosive! This subwoofer makes my ears hurt!]

[You can tell just by listening that this accompaniment burned money; the layering is way too rich.]

[What is God Su doing? He just clicked the mouse once?]

[Isn't this too overconfident! Taozi is firing on all cylinders, and God Su doesn't even have a preparation action?]

[What do you guys know! This is called returning to simplicity! The big demon king doesn't need those fancy things at all!]

[Quick quick quick! Taozi is about to speak!]

Operations Director Li Hong looked at the stabilized servers in the data center, wiping the sweat from his forehead.

"Director Li, the online audience count has broken thirty-five million."

There was undisguised excitement in the technician's voice.

"Hold the line. Automatically back up three copies of tonight's recording; tomorrow's trending search materials across the entire network will all depend on us."

Operations Director Li Hong gave the order.

On the co-hosting screen, Huang Zitao's body swayed back and forth along with the heavy 808 bassline.

He closed his eyes, pinpointing that specific rhythm point.

Three years of accumulation, countless days and nights of lyric-writing practice, all converged at his throat at this moment.

He suddenly opened his eyes.

"The dampness of the basement back then, the moldy wallpaper on the walls."

"The metronome ticking away, sweat dampening my shoes."

Huang Zitao opened his mouth to Rap.

His voice carried a unique hoarseness and tearing sensation.

His Chinese articulation was clear, every accent precisely smashing onto the kick drum.

His body language was rich, his gestures constantly changing with the rhythm of the lyrics.

"You told me my breath control was unstable, going on stage meant instant death."

"I gritted my teeth and swallowed the blood, writing my pride onto a blank sheet of paper."

The bullet comments instantly exploded.

[Damn! This opening makes you kneel!]

[Taozi's lyrics are written too realistically! It's all the experiences of him and God Su!]

[This Flow arrangement is so smooth, combining fast and slow, completely suppressing such a heavy Beat!]

[He has really improved too much! This strength placed in The Rap of China would definitely be at the mentor level!]

[God Su is in danger! Taozi came this wave carrying anger points!]

Su Chen sat on the right side of the screen, listening quietly.

He looked at Huang Zitao's aggressive face, listening to those lyrics stained with blood and tears.

Scenes from five years ago flashed in his mind.

That teenager who squatted in the corner secretly wiping away tears because he couldn't practice his breath intervals well had now grown into a warrior capable of holding his own.

Su Chen didn't feel pressured by Huang Zitao's strength.

On the contrary, a trace of gratification flashed in the depths of his eyes.

Huang Zitao's Rap continued, his speed beginning to accelerate, shifting from steady narration to a fierce emotional outburst.

"They say you are a deity descending to earth, the big demon king with full scores in all subjects."

"I insist on standing here, breaking this wall with three years of effort."

"Memories aren't used for reminiscing; they are used to prove who is stronger."

"Brother, take a good look, the current me is no longer that lamb hiding behind the scenes!"

The last note fell.

Huang Zitao panted heavily, his chest rising and falling violently.

He stared at Su Chen in the screen, his eyes revealing an unyielding savagery.

The accompaniment gradually subsided.

The bullet comment pool had turned into an array of exclamation marks.

[So burning and explosive!!!]

[Taozi's lyrics are written too brilliantly! This is a true declaration of war!]

[It made my blood boil! This is the Rap spirit!]

[How will God Su take this? This wave of firepower is too fierce, he's completely suppressed!]

[Taozi has proven himself! He is definitely worthy of the title of Rap S!]

Yan Yu slammed the table in excitement in the live broadcast room.

"Family! Taozi performed perfectly this round! No mistakes, the lyric-melody integration is extremely high! Full of emotion, even carrying a bit of ruthlessness! This is the result of his three years in secluded cultivation! He wrote all his grievances and unwillingness into this song!"

Yan Yu took a deep breath.

"Now, the pressure is given to God Su."

Huang Zitao leaned against the gaming chair, picked up the mineral water on the table, and took a gulp.

He looked at Su Chen.

"Brother."

Huang Zitao's voice was hoarse, "I'm done singing. It's your turn."

Su Chen nodded.

He didn't pick up the microphone, nor did he make any exaggerated preparation actions.

He just moved the mouse and pressed the play button.

There was no heavy 808 bass.

There were no dense hi-hats.

Only a crisp "click."

That was the background noise emitted when an old-fashioned record player's needle contacted a vinyl record.

Following closely, a soothing, simple piano chord flowed out.

Accompanied by a steady, regular kick drum.

BPM85.

A typical 1990s Old School style.

Slow rhythm, thin foundation.

In front of the kind of bombing-raid-like Trap accompaniment Huang Zitao just used, this Beat appeared pitifully thin.

Huang Zitao frowned.

Yan Yu froze.

The bullet comments of tens of millions of netizens also experienced a brief stagnation.

[What kind of accompaniment is this? Too retro, right?]

[How is this supposed to be taken? Taozi was so explosive just now, and God Su picked such a gentle Beat, he directly loses half in momentum!]

[It's over, did the big demon king underestimate the enemy here?]

[This slow-paced Beat tests storytelling ability the most, but it's very easy to cause a cold house.]

[God Su's move here is incomprehensible.]

Su Chen ignored the bullet comments' skepticism.

He picked up the warm water on the table, took a sip, and moistened his throat.

Putting down the water cup.

He leaned forward slightly, crossing his hands on the tabletop.

His gaze turned profound, as if piercing through the screen and seeing the distant past.

The piano chords cycled through once.

The kick drum struck down.

Su Chen opened his mouth to Rap.