CHAPTER 151: CHAPTER 148: THE FIRST BATTLE STAGE

Tian Jiaxuan: "The first performer from my team is ’Voice of Huaxia’."

Luo Junxiang and Zhang Wei discussed briefly: "Then let’s bring out our ’Alternative.’"

Yuwei never expected to be the one in the first round of battle. She thought that her dozens of stage performances would have made her immune to stage fright.

But when she stepped onto the stage, she could hear the rapid pounding of her own heart. The grand stage was a completely different world compared to the small theaters.

Especially when you’re facing such a huge audience and cameras, claiming you’re not nervous is just self-deception.

"Yezi! Yezi! Yezi!" The frenzy of roaring chants surged through the entire venue like ocean waves, some female fans even covered their faces and sobbed.

This was the enigmatic charisma of idols. Mu Yunchu noticed that the indifferent and even somewhat intimidating teenager next to her had completely sunk into an alternative emotional state.

His pale face burned with a sickly flush, his eyes brimming with fanaticism, and the glow stick in his hand waved rhythmically.

The name he was shouting was like the prayer of a devout believer.

For some reason, Mu Yunchu felt a twinge of sourness in her heart; she sensed this boy’s crazed, overwhelming love for Yuwei.

"Hello, everyone! We are the ’Voice of Huaxia’ group." Six girls said in unison, displaying their most dazzling smiles.

"I’m Yuwei from Galaxy’s ’En-Tu.’" Hearing this introduction, the fans beneath the stage couldn’t help but feel conflicted.

It was like thinking that a child in your family was a downright villain, but still relying on them to win glory for the entire household.

The others introduced themselves and shared their nicknames one after another.

In the control room, Yang Xiaoyue visibly relaxed upon seeing everyone successfully deliver their prewritten lines.

She had been deeply anxious about the possibility of a disastrous performance right at the start since many first-time performers freeze on stage, unable to speak, or even break down crying.

Choosing Yuwei for the first team was partially due to her high popularity and partially due to trust in her stage experience.

The lighting suddenly dimmed, and the stage was bathed in an eerie, oppressive crimson hue, resembling a desolate battlefield after a bloody skirmish.

The outfits of the performers took on an edge under this lighting, radiating a sense of sharp, commanding presence.

The audience instantly focused all their attention on the stage.

Watching a stage performance live is an experience full of impact—vastly different from watching through a screen.

Performances on-screen are edited down, where lights, special effects, and staging can sometimes steal the scene.

Many production companies even leverage these tools to mask deficiencies in the performer’s skills, like autotuning voices.

But on the live stage, the performers themselves are undisputedly the center of attention.

Every movement, every facial expression of theirs gets magnified in the eyes of the audience. If you perform well, you shine brilliantly and command the spotlight.

If you falter, there’s no hiding it. Back in the day, poor performances drew boos and even projectiles from the crowd.

That’s why the live stage is the ultimate test of a performer’s actual skill.

As the music played, the girls spread out cleanly and swiftly across the stage, their expressions shifting instantly to vigilance as if facing down an adversary. Their hands moved rhythmically, evoking the poised opening moves of Tai Chi.

The cameraman zoomed in on Yuwei in the center position for a close-up.

Clad in a long Han-style robe, her makeup was elaborate, her dark ink-like hair cascading over her shoulders, with neat bangs and strands falling to cover her ears.

The hairstylist had meticulously crafted this look, accentuating her stunning, striking features. Under lighting brighter than the rest, she appeared both glamorous and fierce.

In that moment, everyone’s gaze in the room instinctively gravitated toward her.

Yuwei was breathtakingly radiant, so beautiful and vibrant that even Li Ke couldn’t help but feel his heart race wildly.

The girl had a beauty distinct from the charming simplicity of a village flower—one was a vivid, saturated rose, the other a pure, uncontaminated lily.

Just when everyone thought Yuwei was about to start singing, she shifted her steps suddenly, gliding into the formation like a falling leaf. Wei Xin stepped forward and sang the first verse.

That woke the crowd from their earlier awe-struck stupor.

Li Ke, though unfamiliar with musical theory, could still tell that her singing was slightly strained.

Xiao Du found himself dissatisfied—how was someone of Wei Xin’s level able to become the team’s lead vocalist? It must have been the group leader’s concession that led to this.

At this moment, the entire team felt a sense of tightness in their hearts. Despite several rehearsals, Wei Xin had always performed adequately; why now was she faltering? Wang Na even saw the flicker of unease in Wei Xin’s eyes.

The girls waiting in the wings cheered on the team, but everyone could see that their opening was a misstep.

Wei Xin herself felt deeply discouraged. Having little stage experience to begin with, she buckled under the immense pressure, her singing becoming erratic.

She tried desperately to regain her pitch but couldn’t get it right. That section of her performance, only seven seconds long, ended with her walking into position bearing deep-seated frustration.

When she faced Yuwei two-by-two, she received encouraging, affirming glances, which inexplicably eased her nerves and settled her heart.

This is precisely the role of a team leader: at critical moments, they stabilize their teammates so the performance can proceed, preventing earlier mistakes from spilling into the next segment.

Luckily, the rigorous practice sessions beforehand had paid off.

To perfect the overall choreography, Yuwei had been relentlessly demanding of the team, requiring them to dissect every move and even measure angles with rulers for precise spatial alignment.

Through countless repetitions—exhausting to the point of breaking their spirits—their choreography and positioning became second nature, reacting on muscle memory to the rhythm without conscious thought.

That was why Wei Xin did not miss a step despite a blank mind.

No success comes out of nowhere. What appears to be effortlessly joyful and lively singing and dancing onstage is actually built upon a foundation of countless drops of sweat and even tears.

Yuwei then began the second verse, a pure rap segment reworked by Hu Binbin.

Her voice was crisp, her rhythm precise, every word she uttered landing clearly on the ears of the audience. This reassured the entire team.

Even Yang Xiaoyue let out a long sigh of relief. Yuwei truly had nerves of steel!

She noticed how the girl controlled her expressions flawlessly, interacting simultaneously with the cameras and the live audience—a clear testament to her wealth of stage experience.

Xiao Du was now overwhelmed with excitement. His idol was utterly exceptional, elevating the stage with her unique charisma and igniting the emotions of everyone in the room almost instantaneously.

Yuwei’s piercing eyes gleamed with an electrifying allure, her slender figure moving to the bassline’s beat—fluid yet firm, embodying the fusion of strength and grace in a dance inspired by Huaxia’s ancient martial arts.

Suddenly, the drumbeat surged, the bass faded away, and Yuwei melded back into the group.

Wang Na and Ni Chunshu darted forward like shadow-like assassins, delivering a standing-stance rap performance.

Ni Chunshu had a gritty, textured voice, having dabbled in rock music in the past.

Wang Na, who hadn’t trained in vocal techniques, was instantly overshadowed, her voice sounding thin and weightless.

The instrumental arrangement of the song intensified, with Yuwei and Simona moving forward together as the team began their unified dance.

This was the only group choreography in the performance, lasting merely three seconds—but don’t underestimate its brevity.

Group dances are incredibly challenging. Facing the audience without seeing your teammates requires total cohesion; apart from diligent practice, there’s no shortcut.

It’s not just about synchronized movements, but also about maintaining uniform strength, speed, and amplitude, presenting the illusion of a single entity despite differing heights, physiques, and appearances.

Dance-savvy audience members were visibly impressed by Yuwei’s team’s exceptional display, rewarding them with thunderous applause.

In that instant, the performers on stage transcended individuality, forming a flawless, indispensable whole, perfectly balanced without a single weak link.