217: Chapter 217 The Painful Transformation of the Clown Troupe

As the Z-Station audition livestream officially came to an end,

A final list of only seven or eight candidates, personally drafted by Su Zhe, was posted on Su Zhe Culture Media's official Weibo.

Originally, the entire internet was anticipating what kind of stunning, divine lineup this "Living Yama"—who had just created a two-billion-box-office myth and dominated the livestream—would select.

However,

When various media outlets, the gossip-seeking public, and industry peers saw this list and dug into these people's backgrounds,

The entire entertainment industry erupted into a fit of unrestrained laughter!

[I'm dying of laughter! These are the "Hidden Dragons and Crouching Phoenixes" Director Su handpicked?]

[Male Lead Zhang Song: A Hengdian background actor for ten years. Representative works: "Corpse A," "Eunuch B."]

[Female Lead Gao Lan: Blacklisted for five years after offending the big capital. Representative work: "Web Movie Dubbing."]

[Supporting Male Actor Wang Ergou: A grilled cold noodle stall owner...]

[What the hell kind of crew is this? This is clearly a scrap recycling station!]

[Has Su Zhe let it go to his head? Does he really think he has the Midas touch? If he takes this bunch of misfits to film, they probably won't even be able to handle a background actor's scene!]

[I've already got my melon seeds and soda ready, just waiting for Director Su's new web series to flop!]

Inside the CEO's office of Tianyu Media,

Wang Dafa looked at the list, laughing so hard tears almost came out as he repeatedly slapped the table: "Hahaha! And here I thought he had some sort of trump card!

Turns out he just went to the dump to pick up trash.

A bunch of low-level drifters who can't even memorize their lines, and they actually think they can break into our film and television industry?

Notify the promotion department!"

Wang Dafa's eyes were malicious: "Buy some trending searches for me.

Hype up Su Zhe's 'Clown Troupe' as much as possible.

I want the whole internet to watch how he screws up this monkey show!"

...

The outside world's mockery, abuse, and pessimism were like an overwhelming blizzard.

But inside the Jinyuan Building,

There was an isolated silence.

Su Zhe ignored the rumors and gossip online, not even posting a single Weibo to clarify or for PR.

He directly confiscated the phones of the seven or eight selected candidates.

He cut off all their contact with the outside world.

Then,

He locked them all in the basement of the Jinyuan Building, as if they were in solitary confinement.

This place was originally an underground garage, but Su Zhe had simply renovated it. The four walls were covered with giant mirrors, and the ceiling was lit with harsh, blinding fluorescent lights.

No windows, no day or night.

Only endless oppression.

"Everyone."

Su Zhe wore a black tight-fitting tank top, holding a pointer used for the whiteboard.

Like a cold prison warden, he stood before the crowd: "I know how the people outside are evaluating you.

They call you trash, they call you clowns.

They think you're only fit to roll around in the mud for the rest of your lives!"

Su Zhe's gaze swept across the tense faces of Zhang Song, Gao Lan, and the others: "But in my eyes,

You are demonic blades that haven't been sharpened yet!

From today, a half-month hell-level devil training camp officially begins!

In these fifteen days, I will crush every bad acting habit you've developed over the past few years, or even over a decade, piece by piece.

This will be extremely painful, so painful that you'll doubt your life and want to die.

If you can't take it, the door is right there. You can get lost at any time!

Does anyone want to quit?"

The basement was dead silent.

Zhang Song gritted his teeth, and Gao Lan clenched her fists.

They had finally caught a life-saving straw; even if what lay ahead was a mountain of blades and a sea of fire, they would never let go!

"Very well."

Su Zhe nodded, a hint of perverted fanaticism flashing in his eyes.

[God-level Acting Analysis and Training Mastery], fully activated!

At this moment,

Su Zhe was no longer a director.

He was the most terrifying anatomist, scalpel in hand.

In his eyes, these actors were no longer complete human beings, but precision instruments composed of over two hundred bones, over six hundred muscles, and countless nerve endings.

"Zhang Song! Step forward!"

Su Zhe gave a sudden roar.

Zhang Song quickly stepped out.

"You are now playing a low-level fishmonger in a wet market who encounters a local thug collecting protection money.

Begin!"

Zhang Song immediately entered the role. He hunched his back, rubbed his hands together, and put on a fawning, simple-minded smile, bowing repeatedly.

This was too familiar to him. In his ten years at Hengdian, he had carved the humility of low-level people into his bones.

"Stop!"

The pointer in Su Zhe's hand struck Zhang Song's shoulder with a "thwack."

The force wasn't heavy, but it served as a wake-up call.

"Too much!"

Su Zhe's gaze was sharp as he hit the nail on the head: "Zhang Song, you've been a background actor for ten years, and you've picked up too much of that 'extra' vibe.

To grab the camera's attention, your physical movements are always subconsciously exaggerated and enlarged.

Your levator scapulae is too tight right now, and your trapezius muscle is constantly contracting uncontrollably.

This makes you look less like a fishmonger enduring for his livelihood and more like a thief ready to bolt at any moment."

Zhang Song was stunned.

He had never heard a director explain a scene like this.

It wasn't about emotions or the plot.

It was precise down to which specific muscle was exerting force incorrectly.

"Relax! Drop your shoulders for me!"

Su Zhe walked behind him and pressed down hard on Zhang Song's shoulders: "And your breathing!

The frequency is too high!

When low-level people face oppression, their first reaction is to hold their breath, to endure, not to gasp rapidly.

Slow down your breathing frequency by 0.5 seconds.

Use your abdominal breathing to suppress that fear."

"Again!"

Once.

Twice.

Ten times.

Fifty times!

Zhang Song was tortured until he was drenched in sweat.

He originally thought he had mastered the essence of low-level characters, but under Su Zhe's microscopic dissection, he felt like an infant who didn't even know how to walk.

"Wrong, your eyebrows are too raised.

Your eyes are too empty. I want to see that hint of resentment hidden deep in your gaze."

Su Zhe's roars echoed continuously in the basement.

"Gao Lan! Your turn!"

Su Zhe left the panting Zhang Song and pointed the pointer at Gao Lan.

Gao Lan took a deep breath and stood before a massive mirror.

"Your task is to sneer."

Su Zhe looked at her coldly: "What I want is the kind of sneer of a mob boss's wife—dignified without being angry, the kind that makes men's legs go weak."

Gao Lan nodded, looking at herself in the mirror.

The corners of her mouth curled up slightly, and her gaze turned cold.

"Wrong!"

Su Zhe interrupted mercilessly: "That's a ridicule, not a sneer.

Your zygomaticus major muscle is contracting too much, causing the left corner of your mouth to rise by a full five millimeters.

This makes you look like a mean concubine fighting for favor in the imperial harem, not a Mafia Godmother who can control the whole situation."

Gao Lan's expression changed slightly as she quickly adjusted her facial muscles, reducing the extent of her smile.

"Still wrong!"

Su Zhe approached her, his gaze extremely oppressive: "Your orbicularis oculi muscle isn't cooperating! Your eyes are too wide.

A high-level sneer requires half-closed eyes, carrying a sort of condescending disdain.

You've been blacklisted for five years, and you have resentment in your heart. That's good.

But right now, all your resentment is on the surface.

Press it down, push it into your bones.

Starting from today."

Su Zhe pointed at the mirror: "You will practice this sneer a thousand times in front of the mirror every day.

Until your facial muscles form muscle memory, until you can summon that terrifying sense of oppression within a single second.

If you're short by even one time, you won't be allowed to eat today!"

Gao Lan gritted her teeth hard.

Sweat slid down her delicate cheeks.

She didn't argue; she just stared intently at herself in the mirror, repeating that extremely subtle muscle movement over and over again.

...

For the next half month,

For the seven or eight people in the basement, it was simply purgatory on earth.

No rest.

Sixteen hours of high-intensity training every day.

Su Zhe was like a devil who never knew fatigue, using a magnifying glass to find every single flaw on them.

"Wang Ergou, your walking posture is too light. Keep your center of gravity down. You're a killer, not a thief!"

"Li Si, your fear isn't real enough! Tonight, I'll have Tie Niu tie you to a chair and put you in solitary confinement so you can properly experience what despair feels like!"

Pain.

Extreme pain.

Some people, unable to get a movement right no matter what, slapped themselves hard in frustration.

Some rolled on the floor in pain from muscle spasms in the middle of the night.

Because Gao Lan practiced the sneer a thousand times a day, her facial nerves were almost paralyzed.

Late at night, looking at her pale, exhausted face in the mirror, her emotions had completely collapsed, and she had covered her face and wailed.

But after she finished crying,

She would wash her face with ice water and stand before the mirror again.

Because as long as she thought about the mockery of the capital outside, as long as she thought about those five years of being blacklisted, she told herself she absolutely could not fall.

Zhang Song had it even worse.

He was thrown into a large barrel filled with dead fish guts by Su Zhe, forced to experience the inferiority brought by that unwashable stench.

He gagged and wept in the stench.

But under this almost cruel torture,

A miracle

Was quietly happening in this dark basement.

...

Day fifteen.

The last day of the devil training camp.

Creak...

The heavy basement door was pushed open from the outside by Su Zhe.

A long-lost beam of sunlight pierced the darkness, shining upon these "prisoners."

Su Zhe stood in the light, looking at the group before him.

His heart couldn't help but tremble violently.

Transformation.

It was a bone-deep, terrifying transformation.

The Zhang Song who was always subservient and carried that "extra" vibe was gone.

In his place,

Was a great tycoon sitting on a folding stool, hands resting casually on his knees, his gaze seemingly calm yet revealing a sinister ruthlessness and ambition that could swallow everything.

He just sat there,

And it felt as if the surrounding air had become heavy.

And on the other side,

Gao Lan wore an ordinary old shirt.

She turned her head and looked at Su Zhe at the door.

The corner of her mouth curled up slightly, with millimeter-level precision.

Her eyelids were half-closed.

In that instant,

An "elder sister-in-law" aura—more ruthless, decisive, and filled with extreme charm than any man—

Exploded like a nuclear blast.

Even Sister Liu, who was following Su Zhe, was so frightened when she saw Gao Lan's gaze that she took half a step back, her knees feeling weak.

As for the others,

There was no longer any confusion or inferiority in their eyes.

All that remained was a sharpness as keen as a blade.

They stood together,

Like a group of evil spirits crawling out from the depths of hell.

"Good."

Su Zhe slowly took off his sunglasses.

A wild smile curled at the corners of his mouth.

The past half-month of effort and the training worth five million popularity points,

Had not been in vain!

The outside world was laughing at him for recruiting a "Clown Troupe."

But only Su Zhe knew.

How could this be a Clown Troupe?

This was clearly a sword hanging over the heads of all the idol stars in the Chinese Entertainment Industry.

"Everyone."

Su Zhe opened his arms to welcome this group of reborn monsters: "Training is over.

Now, go take a shower and change your clothes.

Then follow me out of seclusion.

Those lords of capital outside are probably dying to see us make fools of ourselves.

It's time for us... to give them something to worry about!"