Chapter 60

Fang Juexia suddenly recalled the feeling he had as a child visiting an adoption center. Back then, he’d originally intended to take home a cute little lap dog, so he’d headed straight for the Pomeranians and Chihuahuas.

But unexpectedly, there was a little Husky nearby. Its blue eyes gazed at him longingly, its paws scratching at the cage bars, its little tongue hanging out. Whenever Fang Juexia approached, it would leap up with wild joy, as if it could bite through the cage and throw itself into his arms.

Suddenly, Fang Juexia’s heart melted. He abandoned the plan he’d carefully laid out for so long and took the little guy home. Because of its tiny, dark eyebrows resembling abacus beads, he named it Little Abacus.

If Little Abacus had become a spirit capable of speech back then, its bouncing would surely have been saying, “Take me with you, take me with you.”

Suddenly, the door to the break room was knocked on twice with a heavy thud.

“Kaleido!” A staff member wearing an earpiece pushed the door open, leaning halfway inside. “Stand by. You’re up next in three minutes.”

“Got it!” Cheng Qiang replied. Just then, the final member, Ling Yi, finished his styling. “Everyone’s got their headsets on, right? We tested them at the company, so they should be fine. The sound system at the music show probably won’t have any issues either. Don’t worry about the results—we’re here to perform. Enjoying the stage is what matters most.”

Fang Juexia had no time to reply to Pei Tingsong’s words. Adjusting the headphone spacing, he glanced at him and saw a faint smile tug at his lips.

Pei Tingsong didn’t seem to demand a response, simply expressing himself with his usual fervor. Fang Juexia had to admit, he’d never met anyone quite like him in his life.

People fear the unknown, yet they are inevitably drawn to it.

They were stationed outside the passage connecting the stage to the green room, where people constantly passed by. Ling Yi took deep breaths repeatedly, patting his chest, back, and arms like an old man in the park. “What should I do? It’s been so long since I’ve been on a music show. I’m a bit nervous.”

Lu Yuan gave him a hug. “We rehearsed, right? What’s there to be nervous about?”

Jiang Miao chuckled. “Yeah, this can’t possibly be worse than that last concert where the sound system broke down. We got through that, didn’t we?”

To lighten the mood, the group’s cameraman approached them with his equipment, asking questions about their styling.

“Your makeup looks really unique this time. What do you think of it yourselves?”

“Super cool,” He Ziyan leaned into the camera, his dyed red hair slightly permed and falling over his forehead. “See this wound on my cheekbone? Isn’t it super realistic? The stylist did this for us…” He paused, and Lu Yuan finished, “Battle damage makeup!”

“Right, I’ve got a scrape here on my cheekbone and a cut under my brow bone. Don’t worry, we didn’t get into a fight—it’s all makeup.”

Ling Yi giggled, “I’m the one who did it.”

Fang Juexia suddenly chimed in, “Team discord confirmed.”

“Hahahaha!”

“Ling Yi, cut it out,” He Ziyan pressed down on his head. “You jump up and hit my ankle.”

Jiang Miao continued guiding the camera, “We all went pretty bold with our styling this time. I might be the most conservative—I dyed my hair black tea brown because the stylist thought it suited my guzheng image. My battle damage is mainly the wound at the corner of my mouth and the injuries on my hands. There might be a close-up of my hands later.”

“Why?” Lu Yuan asked deliberately.

“Top secret,” Jiang Miao chuckled, walking over to Pei Tingsong. Pei Tingsong was adjusting his earpiece, turned his head to face the camera, and raised an eyebrow.

“Little Pei has the most eye-catching hair color among us this time—silver-white—and he’s wearing colored contacts too.”

Pei Tingsong turned toward the camera. His left eye was a clear, vivid blue, while his right eye was blood red. Like He Ziyan, his wound was near his cheekbone. Combined with his white hair and striking facial features, he was quite eye-catching.

After introducing the youngest member, Jiang Miao pulled Ling Yi closer. “Ling Yi dyed his hair a grayish blue this time. I think it suits him perfectly because he has such fair skin. Teacher Yuan has a pencil-gray hair color—it looks incredibly cool.”

Ling Yi nodded. “I really love our military outfits this time—we have several sets. Do I look cool?” He spun around. “This uniform is all black with chain-style medal epaulettes, kind of European-inspired. The design also incorporates a touch of Chinese style. We’ll wear them for our upcoming music show performances too.”

The cameraman specifically pointed out, “Why do the six of you have different lengths for your military uniforms?”

Ling Yi looked down and confirmed, “Yeah, Miao Miao and Teacher Yuan have the short versions. Brother Huo, Xiao Pei, and Juexia are taller, so they got the overcoats.”

The camera shifted to Fang Juexia. “Juexia’s overcoat is actually the longest.”

Fang Juexia smiled. “Because there are some little surprises.”

“Juexia even got hair extensions!” Ling Yi walked over to him, pointing at the hair behind his head. “Look, he dyed it black specifically to attach these long black extensions, tied up in a high ponytail. It looks just like those ancient knight-errant nobles, right?”

Pei Tingsong looked at him. Just as he’d imagined, the contrast between the dark hair and his cool, pale complexion was striking, accentuating Fang Juexia’s icy aura. Combined with the “wounds” on his neck and cheeks and the red totem markings on his birthmark, his entire demeanor radiated a chilling elegance.

“Do you attach the long hair and then remove it every time?”

Fang Juexia shook his head. “No, I’ll keep it long during the promotional period.”

“How does it feel?”

“Well…” Fang Juexia smiled faintly. “I’ve never grown my hair this long before. When I tie it up, it feels heavy. It made me realize how amazing girls are—styling their hair every day must be quite a chore. Suddenly, I empathized with them.”

Ling Yi looked surprised. “That’s an unusual perspective.”

Fang Juexia insisted, “It’s genuinely tough. I once wore high heels as punishment and realized how hard girls have it. Our society places excessive focus on women’s appearances—it creates invisible pressure. I hope everyone can live more freely and comfortably.”

Just then, a staff member holding a sign waved them over from the other end of the hallway. “Two more—Kaleido, come in.”

Following instructions, they entered the stage holding area through a passageway. The lighting was dim, yet crowded. As soon as Fang Juexia stepped inside, he felt someone grasp his arm, pulling him two steps to the right and pressing him against another person’s shoulder.

“I’m about to start work,” Pei Tingsong’s voice carried a hint of amusement.

Guide dog duty? Fang Juexia lowered his eyes, a faint smile touching his lips.

Coincidentally, Seven Stars was performing on stage. Though he couldn’t see the stage, Fang Juexia had heard their comeback song and recognized Liang Ruo’s voice. They were singing semi-live, the backing track clearly audible. Two years into their career, Seven Stars’ live performances remained a point of criticism online. On average, they were mediocre at best, and during off days, their performances could border on disastrous. But in most people’s minds, idols were inherently inferior to singers. Aside from Star Map, few agencies prioritized vocal skills, focusing instead on stage presence.

Kaleido stands as an exception. Beyond their exceptionally talented dual lead vocalists, the rest of the members also possess solid singing skills. Even Lu Yuan, who initially joined the company as a dance champion, has developed commendable vocal abilities under Chen Zhengyun’s training.

Yet talent alone is no guarantee. Without capital to pave the way, those who carve a path to stardom through sheer ability alone are as rare as hen’s teeth.

“Anyone need to use the restroom?” Ling Yi suddenly felt the urge, but no one else seemed inclined. He grabbed Fang Juexia’s arm. “Juexia, come with me?”

“Huh?” Before he could refuse, Ling Yi yanked him along. The restroom wasn’t far from the backstage area, but it required passing through a rather dark passageway. Dragged to the restroom door by Ling Yi, Fang Juexia felt both amused and exasperated. He could only call into the restroom, “I’ll wait for you outside.”

Standing at the edge of the dark passageway, he lowered his head to recall the lyrics. The shadows within the corridor enveloped him, making him look inconspicuous. Two stagehands carrying props for the set moved them backstage and leaned against the wall to rest, unaware of Fang Juexia’s presence.

They also failed to notice they’d dropped a foam letter sign—about the size of a book—right at Fang Juexia’s feet. Chatting while listening to Seven Stars’ song, they remarked:

“Seven Stars’ live performance just doesn’t cut it if you only listen. You really need to see them in person.”

“But they’ve got massive fanbases. Hey, do you think Kaleido’s comeback flopped? I just glanced—their new song dropped at midnight, but views are nowhere near Seven Stars’. It’s been nearly six hours, and they’ve only got 20k saves on music platforms.”

“Twenty thousand is actually pretty good. That number probably came after they tortured their fans. They never had any die-hard fans before.”

“But Seven Stars’ main track already has 120,000 saves! And it’s still climbing. Kaleido’s barely scraping by with a fraction of that. Besides, with idol main tracks like this, casual listeners usually don’t save them afterward anyway.”

How can they compare to the Seven Stars? Look at their fan bases—are they even in the same league? Sure, Fang Juexia and Pei Tingsong have been pretty popular lately, but how many of those fans are just freeloaders? Do you really think they’d buy your albums just because they like your CP? Music platforms rely on casual listeners—whose songs go viral, whose albums sell more. Kaleido’s demos leaked already—what the hell are they selling now? It’s beyond salvaging.”

“True. You know, Fang Juexia—he’s got this killer looks and undeniable talent. Why does he have to be so unlucky?”

“Who the hell knows…”

The speaker froze. Because the Fang Juexia they were talking about had just appeared before them, handing back the letter A they’d dropped.

“Your prop.”

Fang Juexia was tall, with a naturally distant, cold expression and an equally icy voice, always giving off an unapproachable vibe. These two had just been gossiping behind his back and now felt guilty.

But Fang Juexia hadn’t actually taken it to heart. He just wanted to return the item to them, so he’d deliberately slowed his pace and followed their voices to find them.

One of them wore a look of utter surprise, tugging at his colleague’s sleeve and whispering, “Pei… Pei Tingsong.”

Pei Tingsong? Just as Fang Juexia turned to face them, an arm swept around his shoulder.

“Been looking all over for you. Turns out you’re here helping others find their lost items.”

Just as Fang Juexia was about to speak, another voice cut in—a woman with a commanding presence who addressed both men directly, “Is work time meant for you to rest and gossip?”

“Director…”

Fang Juexia turned to see a stage spotlight sweep across the room, landing squarely on a woman in a sharp blue suit.

It was MLH’s Program Director.

“If the props team all had your work ethic, I wouldn’t need to do anything myself.” After a brief scolding, she dismissed them. Ling Yi emerged from the restroom, spotted them after a quick look around, and hurried over.

Unexpectedly, the female director actually apologized to them.

“This industry is what it is. But I’m impressed by your stage presence. I was in the control room during the last gala, and your quick thinking to save the show really stuck with me.“ She looked at Fang Juexia. ”Especially you—you truly are the heart of the team.”

Fang Juexia lowered his eyes and murmured a thank you. A call from staff came through his in-ear monitor, so they hurriedly bid farewell to the director and joined the others.

Had it not been for the staff’s casual conversation, Fang Juexia wouldn’t have known about their music chart rankings. The company deliberately kept it from them, likely fearing it might affect their first live performance.

But for Fang Juexia, it was the opposite. Hearing these somewhat jarring words seemed to help him immerse himself more deeply into the song and the stage itself.

Because Kaleido’s current predicament resonated profoundly with the lyrics of this very song.

“Lights in position!”

“Camera One in position!”

“Camera Two in position!”

The crew’s commands echoed in succession.

Kaleido’s stage set was distinctive: a backdrop featuring cursive military pledges and various weapons, with a red frame taiko drum centered, its skin facing forward. Half a meter in front of the drum sat a black ebony zither with private strings—Jiang Miao’s own instrument. Three battle flags stood on either side, each bearing the names of the six members in brushstrokes.

The entire group lined up on stage, with Ling Yi at the front. Jiang Miao gestured toward the control room. “Kaleido is ready.”

“OK.” The stage lights dimmed completely. The final command came from the control room: “Kaleido recording of ‘Breaking the Formation’ begins!”

Music swelled as the accompaniment opened with sampled traditional opera rhythms. The Jinghu violin drew out the first melody. A spotlight focused on the center stage. The camera descended, locking onto faces just as Ling Yi flicked open a folding fan—the Peking Opera aria commenced.

“Suddenly, the clang of golden drums and the shrill blast of horns awaken my resolve to shatter the heavens, my ambition soaring like a cloud.” He fanned himself twice with the crimson folding fan. “What of that foreign king, that mere clown? My single sword can withstand a million soldiers!”

The final words soared high and melodious, the drawn-out notes rich with resonance. This opening stunned the hundreds of audience members below the stage. They exchanged stunned glances, never expecting to hear such an opening on an idol stage.

“Holy crap, that’s Peking Opera!? So freaking awesome!”

“I’ve got goosebumps all over!”

“Is this Mu Guiying taking command? How can the lead singer of K-Tuan be this strong?”

“This must be that song from Xie Qu.”

K-Tuan’s fans launched into frenzied cheering mode, shouting out each member’s name during the instrumental breaks.

The Peking Opera rhythm persisted in the backing track, interrupted only by a crisp flute note—like some signal. Ling Yi folded his fan and tossed it into the air.

Directions came from the control room.

[Camera 1 follow the fan, Camera 2 ready—]

When the camera cut back, the six members had already split into formation. Jiang Miao stepped forward, her voice resonant: “Blood mist rises over the yellow sands, we break the formation to chase the stag.”

Next, Fang Juexia arrived at the center of the formation. His long hair, tied high, fluttered with his movements, radiating a cool, carefree elegance. His ethereal voice perfectly set the opening atmosphere: “My path is where no path exists, let your ambushes lie.”

Military drum beats emerged in the accompaniment, building to a majestic crescendo. The entire group danced in perfect unison to the intensifying rhythm. At the climax, a guzheng variation struck—three swift strums evoking an army’s advance.

Ling Yi stepped forward: “One stone stirs a thousand waves; two fingers pluck ten thousand notes. Night shadows flee the moon’s light,

Full bow glides through snowy fields.”

[Camera 3!]

Lu Yuan executed a front flip mid-air, landing at the stage’s center. The crowd erupted in cheers. Most astonishingly, his voice remained perfectly steady throughout the mid-air maneuver. “With my back to the river, life and death are mine to bear,

Shattering cauldrons to slay the qilin. Single-horse slayer of Yama, blood-soaked banner-bearer.”

The intricate drumbeat pushed the atmosphere to its peak, the visual impact of the six-man sword dance overwhelming. Each strum of the ancient zither in the accompaniment seemed to carry a murderous intent.

To the sound of a flute, He Ziyan stepped forward. His choreographed hand movements incorporated sword-flower techniques. As he withdrew his hands, he adjusted his earpiece and began his rap verse: “Biding my time, I’ve long awaited this moment. In this battle, your unearned virtue will see you lose your composure and sink into the mire.”

The choreography for the rap section was relatively free-form. He Ziyan flung his open military coat backward, crouched down, and faced his camera with a mocking expression. “Play the speechless ornament, but don’t interfere with the real voice. I accept my fate of being surrounded by enemies. Just watch your karma come back to bite you!”

Rising to his feet, He Ziyan swayed his head to the accelerating beat, retreating step by step from the stage edge. “A thousand armies drive us six to the brink today. Believe it or not, I’ll carve a bloody path through them regardless. Heroes care not for victory or defeat—success or failure rests on this single moment.” He concluded with a gentlemanly bow, ending his part. “Thank you for revealing the heavens’ secrets. Henceforth, I shall strike fear into a thousand miles.” ”

He Ziyan’s melodic rap layered behind him: “Whoever surrenders admits defeat, hiding their blade and identity.”

The next section featured Fang Juexia’s transitional vocals. He crossed four members from the stage edge to reach center stage, literally flying through his choreography.

[Camera 1, zoom in! Cut to Camera 4 for a close-up!]

Fang Juexia’s military overcoat was the only one buttoned tightly, radiating an air of restraint. He tilted his head to deliver a piercing high note: “Hurry up and line up to become my fallen souls.”

As the final note faded, Pei Tingsong abruptly appeared in the frame, grabbing Fang Juexia by the collar. Their profiles pressed dangerously close. “Don’t blink. Don’t lose focus. The sword’s cold light strikes down one every ten steps.”

Fang Juexia shoved him away, raising his left eyebrow in disdain.

This choreographed interaction instantly ignited deafening screams from the audience. Dozens of fans screamed with the intensity of hundreds, nearly drowning out the backing track.

The five formed a circle. Lu Yuan, positioned at the center, raised his wrist, the white bandage wrapped around it flicking out. “Behold me—”

Every movement of the others was controlled by him, as if held by reins. All six sang the chorus in unison.

[Let the filthy rules interrogate us—no bloodshed needed.

Night’s flight defies the false world—who dares create gods?

Heroes care not for origin—neither hear nor fight.]

The accompaniment’s rhythm quickens, faster and faster. All kneel, leaving only Jiang Miao standing. “Ask not of this journey’s end.”

Everyone rises. As the rhythm intensifies to its peak, a sudden beat drops.

Fang Juexia, positioned at center stage, raises his arm in a gun gesture. In a close-up, he presses it to his temple.

“Hear my song to break the formation.”

The most electrifying drop of the entire performance erupted, its powerful rhythm sending the crowd into a frenzy. Authentic sword-clashing samples interwove with razor-sharp electronic tones, creating a spatial illusion of flashing blades alongside the choreography.

The choreography was bold and sweeping, yet every movement was precisely timed to the electronic beats, delivering immense visual impact. The studio atmosphere surged, momentarily resembling a music festival. As the drop section neared its end, the entire group sang in unison once more: “Listen to my song that breaks the formation.”

The formation reshaped into a serpentine line. As the guzheng plucked its notes, the dancers swayed left and right, parting to reveal Pei Tingsong at the rear. He had silently positioned himself before the red frame taiko drum, now striking it fiercely in sync with the accompaniment, reopening the battlefield’s curtain.

Spinning his drumsticks, Pei Tingsong flipped over the zither and stepped forward. Shaking out his military jacket, he launched into a rap: “In this world, open rivalries and hidden schemes abound, smiles concealing daggers. I awaited guidance, yet what came was nothing but vicious, underhanded tricks.”

Fang Juexia thought to himself, surely Pei Tingsong wouldn’t improvise lyrics on the spot this time. But he was too naive. That thought flickered for less than a second before he heard Pei Tingsong’s second round of improvisation.

“The raw jade spills its essence, the melody falls out of tune. How do you find these lyrics? Were it not for the hall’s mocking laughter, how would I know my crane cries from the marsh?” Pei Tingsong’s stride carried a rogue’s swagger as he picked up a folding fan from the ground, snapped it open, and gave a sharp flick.

“A heart rotten with jealousy’s fire, this malignant disease craves a potent cure. The original work, a lone soldier, cuts open the chest with a blade; drink the blood while it’s hot for eternal youth.”

This revised verse cut so sharply it seemed poised to pierce Astar’s windpipe. Without uttering a single vulgar word, Pei Tingsong lambasted them mercilessly—a display that truly impressed Fang Jixia.

He drew the folded fan like a blade across his own chest, a sickly smile spreading across his face as he wiped the corners of his mouth. “But I was born hot-tempered. Bite me once, and I’ll bite back.” Turning his back, he tossed the folding fan aside as he rapped, “The harp’s edge draws a blade from its sheath / To sever your head and shatter the heavens.”

The rap’s murderous intent nearly froze the entire venue.

“Damn, Pei Tingsong is too real!”

“He almost named names…”

The arrangement shifted again, horse whinnies erupted, and the lead singers repositioned forward. Their verses flowed in perfect harmony, their presence even more commanding than the first chorus. The fans’ cheers below grew louder, blending into the war-themed arrangement with the exhilarating flair of breaking through enemy lines.

[Let the filthy rules question themselves, no bloodshed needed

Night’s flight, defying false worlds—who dares create gods?

Unheard, uncontested—only heroes know no birthright

This journey asks no questions of fate

Hear my song shatter the ranks]

Expecting another electronic drop, the background suddenly fell silent, leaving only the grim military drum—one beat, then another. The stage plunged into darkness, lights extinguished, only the military drums persisting.

When the lights returned, the zither resonated—not a sampled accompaniment, but a live performance. Only two spotlights remained on stage, illuminating just two figures. One beam fell upon Jiang Miao seated before the zither. The other revealed Fang Juexia, standing alone with his back to the stage.

His military overcoat had long been shed, revealing only a moon-white, wide-sleeved, fitted-waist robe worn close to the skin. Every audience member below the stage was astonished by this unexpected choreography.

“Oh my god!!!”

“Ah, this look!! Absolutely stunning!”

“Is that Fang Juexia?”

As Jiang Miao’s zither melody unfolded, Fang Juexia began his solo dance. Each arm lift and leg sweep moved with the lightness of drifting clouds. The strings quickened, culminating in two consecutive somersaults—the astonishing difficulty of the swallow-style purple-gold crown leap drew gasps from the audience.

After several consecutive cloud bridge rolls, Fang Juexia approached the guzheng. He placed his hands on his waist, drew a long sword from the stand, and began dancing with it, his movements as ethereal as a celestial being.

Oh no.

Fang Juexia felt a sudden, violent tug at his waist. Glancing down, he saw the microphone box strapped to his lower back had fallen, a cable dangling in midair. Unfazed, he improvised a new choreography. With a swift leg sweep and turn, he grabbed the black cord. Wrist-flicking it, he flung the microphone through the air. It looped once before landing securely in his grasp.

To him, the sequence felt interminably long, yet to the audience below, it was but a fleeting moment. Hardly anyone noticed the astonishing recovery performed by the solo dancer, Fang Juexia.

He concealed the microphone in his left hand behind his back, wielding the sword solely with his right. His waist moved with the fluidity of the flexible blade in his grasp. As the zither’s melody faded, he thrust the sword forward, balancing on one leg with his left leg raised high, standing like a crane at the center of the stage.

A few strums later, the zither shifted into a variation. Everyone returned to the stage. Jiang Miao positioned herself behind the chair she had just occupied, shielding Fang Juexia from view. Lu Yuan began the transitional bridge: “Close your eyes and listen to the clamor of this battlefield. I am certain this time I shall not be confined by adversity.”

Ling Yi took over, her high notes piercing with intensity: “This path holds no shortcuts. I trust only myself, never fate.”

The chorus returns. Lead dancer Lu Yuan stands at center stage in an arrow formation, with Fang Juexia directly behind him.

[Let the filthy rules question us, no bloodshed needed

Night rushes on, defying this false world—who dares create gods?

No questions asked, no struggles fought—only heroes, regardless of origin

This journey asks no questions of the future

Hear my song that breaks the formation]

A final intense electronic drop propels the crowd’s energy to its peak.

Heroes are born, not made—no birthright matters

This journey asks no questions of fate

Hear my song shatter the formation]

The final, intense electronic drop propels the atmosphere to its peak. It feels less like a music show recording and more like a live performance at a concert hall. Every sense is fully engaged, moving in rhythm with the music until the climax concludes.

As the tempo slowed, the six members turned their backs to the stage and walked backward. The accompaniment returned to the opening zither plucking and rhythmic beats, now layered with faint whispers of wind and snow.

The flute’s melody wafted through the air. Pei Tingsong, holding a black military-style overcoat, shivered slightly amidst the crisp, cold strings before draping it over Fang Juexia’s shoulders. Fang Juexia moved with deliberate slowness, pacing to the armchair before the zither and picking up the long sword temporarily placed upon it. The others gathered around the chair, assuming their final poses.

Jiang Miao’s voice was warm and mellow: “Yellow sands sweep across the wilderness, stirring a crimson mist. Break the formation to chase the stag.”

Pei Tingsong stood directly behind the chair, his gaze shedding its ferocity. Fang Juexia turned and sat down on the armchair, leaning back lazily. His fingers traced the sword’s edge as he nonchalantly tossed the blade onto the ground before him, singing the final line of the entire song.

“My path is where no path exists, let your ambushes lie.”

Author’s Note: Our card is about to break out again thanks to the live performance.

Extremely long author’s note warning ahead—it’s the full lyrics. Terrible lyrics, you know. You can still close this now~

————————

《Breaking the Formation》

Composer: xxx/Fang Juexia/xxx

Lyricist: Pei Tingsong/Fang Juexia

Arrangement: He Ziyan/xxx/xxx/Fang Juexia

Gu Zheng Performance: Jiang Miao

Final Interpretation Rights: Zhi Chu

(Opening excerpt adapted from Peking Opera “Mu Guiying Takes Command”)

(Peking Opera opening)

Ling Yi: The clang of golden drums and the shrieking of trumpets awaken my resolve to shatter the heavens! What of that barbarian king—a mere clown? My sword alone can hold back a million foes!

(Zither variation)

Jiang Miao: Yellow sands churn blood mist across the wilderness

Jiang Miao: Shatter the formation to seize the throne

Jue Xia: My path lies where none exists

Jue Xia: Let your ambushes lie in wait

(Zither strumming, military drum tones)

Ling Yi: One stone stirs a thousand waves / Two fingers pluck ten thousand notes

Ling Yi: Night shadows flee the moon’s embrace/Full bow strides through snowy fields

Lu Yuan: With back to the river, bearing life and death/Shattering cauldrons, slaughtering the qilin

Lu Yuan: Single-horse charge slays the Lord of Hell/Blood-soaked body draped in banners

(Rap, Ling Yi harmony)

He Ziyan:

Biding my time in obscurity / I’ve long awaited this battle with bated breath

Your virtue doesn’t match your position / Beware your mind’s chaos / Sinking into quicksand

Play the mute ornament if you must / But stop interfering with the true voice

I accept my fate, besieged on all sides / Watch your karma unfold

Today, a thousand armies drive us six to the edge

Believe it or not/I’ll fight my way through bloodshed come what may

Heroes care not for victory or defeat/Success or failure hinges on this moment

Thanks for revealing heaven’s secrets/I’ll now strike fear across a thousand miles

Ling Yi: A new era has long arrived/You dare not admit it

He Ziyan: (Don’t blink/Don’t falter/A sword’s cold gleam slays one ten paces away)

Jue Xia: Hurry up and line up/Become the souls beneath my blade

Pei Tingsong: (Who surrenders/Who yields/The flying blade conceals both name and form)

Lu Yuan: Leave it to me

Qi: Let go / Interrogate / Dirty rules, no bloodshed needed

Qi: Night escape / Defiance / In this false world, who dares create gods?

Qi: Hear not / Strive not / Only know heroes care not for birth

Jiang Miao: On this journey, ask not of the future

Jue Xia: Hear me break the formation with a song

[drop]

All: Hear me break the formation with a song

[drop]

(rap, Jue Xia backing vocals)

Pei Tingsong:

In this world/Open strife and hidden schemes abound, smiles hide daggers

I await guidance/Yet receive only vicious, poisonous tricks

Original: A lone soldier cuts open the belly/Drinks the warm blood for eternal life.

Alas, I was born hot-tempered/Bitten once, I’ll bite back.

The zither’s sound is cast aside/The sharp sword leaves its scabbard/I’ll take your head and trample the heavens.

Jiang Miao: One stone stirs a thousand waves/Two fingers pluck ten thousand notes.

Jiang Miao: Night shadows flee the moonlight/Full bow strides through snowy fields

Jue Xia: With my back to the water, bearing life and death/Shattering cauldrons, slaughtering the qilin

Jue Xia: Single-horse charge to slay the Lord of Hell/Blood-soaked body draped in banners

Jue Xia: The new era has long arrived/It’s just you who dare not admit it

Pei Tingsong: (Don’t blink/Don’t lose focus/Sword’s cold light slays one every ten steps)

Ling Yi: Trouble, hurry up and line up/Become the souls beneath my blade

He Ziyan: (Who surrenders/Who yields/Flying blades hide both name and form)

Jiang Miao: Leave it to me

Qi: Let loose/Interrogate/Dirty rules, no bloodshed needed

Qi: Night escape/Resistance/In this false world, who dares create gods?

Qi: Hear not/Strive not/Only know heroes care not for birth

Lu Yuan: On this journey, ask not of the future

Ling Yi: Hear my song that shatters the formation

[drop]

Qi: Hear my song that shatters the formation

[drop]

dance break (Jue Xia solo dance, Jiang Miao guzheng accompaniment)

bridge:

Lu Yuan: Close your eyes to the clamor of this battlefield

Lu Yuan: This time, I vow not to be confined by adversity

Ling Yi: This path holds no shortcuts through Mount Zhongnan

Ling Yi: I trust only myself / Never fate (high note)

Ling Yi: A new era has long arrived / You just refuse to acknowledge it

He Ziyan: (Don’t blink/Don’t lose focus/A sword’s cold gleam slays one ten paces away)

Jue Xia: Hurry up and line up/Become the souls beneath my blade

Pei Tingsong: (Who surrenders/Who yields/The flying blade conceals both name and form)

Lu Yuan: Leave it to me

Qi: Let loose/Interrogate/Dirty rules—no bloodshed needed

Qi: Night escape/Resistance/Who dares create gods in this false world?

Qi: Hear not/Strive not/Only know heroes transcend birth

Jiang Miao: This journey—ask not of fate

Jue Xia: Hear my song that shatters the formation

［drop］

Qi: Hear my song that shatters the formation

［drop］

Ling Yi & Jue Xia: Hear me/Hear me/A song that shatters the formation (high notes)

Jiang Miao: Yellow sands sweep across the wilderness, stirring blood mist

Jiang Miao: Shatter the formation to chase the stag

Jue Xia: The path I walk is pathless

Jue Xia: Let your ambushes lie where they may

(The opening and closing verses were written and composed by Jue Xia, hence his credit for lyrics, music, and arrangement)

(Regarding the Mu Guiying takes command segment, I omitted two lines midway for pacing and lyrical coherence. The full passage is truly magnificent—feel free to search for it, but please refrain from posting spoilers on video platforms!)