"Clap clap clap—" Thunderous applause erupted from the 88 audience members, their hands striking with such force it sounded like a crowd of 800.
The 11 celebrity judges joined in, clapping just as fervently. To say their souls had been cleansed wouldn't be an exaggeration.
"Don't stop the applause! Others only care if your hands hurt—I'm the only one who cares if you're clapping loud enough!" Host Kim Seong-joo stepped back onstage, but the clapping still hadn't died down. He defused the awkwardness with a joke before continuing, "That voice didn't just cleanse my soul—it scrubbed my body cleaner than a public bathhouse masseur."
For effect, he wriggled like a worm mid-sentence.
The only people not completely moved were those not in the studio—specifically, the three masked contestants waiting backstage. If their faces weren't covered, their stunned expressions would've been obvious.
Among them, the lone female contestant, Spinning Lady, was on the verge of a breakdown. A bel canto singer? What kind of drunk lunatics are running this show? Why the hell would they invite a countertenor?!
In Korea, calling someone a "drunk lunatic" between spouses means alcoholic—but between strangers, it implies out of their damn mind. Spinning Lady was convinced the producers had lost theirs. How is a pop singer supposed to compete against a countertenor live?
Meanwhile, Prince of Gangnam, Shin Young-oh, was internally laughing like a madman—heh heh heh, hahaha, hohoho—having already accepted defeat. He knew his limits.
"Azaleas" was a melody engraved into Korean DNA, but what the hell was that high note at the end? Shin refused to believe his opponent, the Great Demon King, was even human.
As for Little Lantern, the other challenger, he found the Chinese singer deeply unsettling. Downed half a bottle of baijiu before performing, yet still sang flawlessly. His voice sounds young, but he pulls off bel canto like that? Even as someone familiar with China, he was completely baffled.
"What if… the Great Demon King is China's secret weapon? A bel canto prodigy groomed to conquer the West?" Little Lantern thought, his mind spinning with conspiracy.
Back in the control room, PD Myung Nam-jik was furious. "Goddamn unlucky bastard! Idiotic trash! Why wasn't there a single mention of this Chinese star being a countertenor in his profile?!"
His glare at Chu Zhi now carried a single message: [This kid is terrifying. He must be eliminated early.]
Eventually, the audience's hands grew sore, and the studio quieted.
"If there were a 'beauty stamp,' I'd cover his entire body with it!"
"The Great Demon King is an artist—a high-note artist. World-class. I listen to opera often, and even dramatic tenors and heroic tenors can't compare."
"With a talent like that, what else could he be but a singer?"
"An angel kissed those vocal cords. If I had that voice, I'd eat barbecue at least twice a day."
The 11 celebrity judges began their spontaneous reviews. Several were idol group members—none had expected this when the performance started. It was like getting "a cold, elegant blade shoved up their asses"—a brutal awakening.
"No matter how eagerly you review him, our show won't pay you extra," Kim Seong-joo joked, quieting the panel before calling on the expert: "Senior Sung-yoon, as a first-time performer, what do you think of the Great Demon King?"
"A voice that moves the soul. I live next to a Catholic church, so I often hear hymns. They're beautiful… but the Great Demon King's voice is even more so."
(Korea's bel canto strength isn't just due to Western influence—it's also because cults and churches are everywhere, creating a ripe environment for choirs.)
Sung-yoon continued, "That vocal talent is unreal. For a moment, I thought I was hearing the siren's song luring sailors to their doom."
"That final note shattered the illusion—what pitch was that?" He hesitated, almost afraid to ask.
"E7." Chu Zhi had come here to shock the world—he wasn't hiding anything.
"Aish—" Sung-yoon sucked in a sharp breath. The judges and host all had basic music knowledge. They knew what E7 meant—the sheer impossibility of hitting it.
Kim Seong-joo took the chance to explain for the laymen: "The standard countertenor range is C3 to C5. E7 is seventeen steps higher. The human whistle register's known limits are E6 to G6—anything beyond G6 is considered inhuman. In Korea, only Sun Jin has hit G6, and she's a monster."
Sun Jin, Korea's "national treasure" vocalist, is famed for her powerhouse high notes. Though, Koreans love slapping "national" and "treasure" on everything—a habit China's marketing has annoyingly adopted lately with "national little brothers/sisters."
In short, using Sun Jin—a household name—as a benchmark made the audience gasp. Before the explanation, they thought "Wow, amazing!" After? "HOLY SHIT, THAT'S INSANE!" Cheers erupted again.
"My confidence comes from skill." Chu Zhi locked eyes with Jin Yong, his tone sharp. Petty? Maybe. But he hadn't forgotten the earlier disrespect.
Jin Yong's face twitched with rage. In Korea, seniors could berate—even hit—juniors without consequence. That was just how things worked.
"Just because it's always been that way, does that make it right?"
To Korean entertainment? Yes. Sung-yoon and Kim Seong-joo both felt Chu Zhi's retort was "too aggressive." But the audience? They loved it. "The Great Demon King fights fire with fire—now THAT'S charisma!"
"Voting hasn't even started. Maybe this Chinese singer doesn't know our rules—declaring victory before the results?" Jin Yong shot back weakly. The song's echoes still haunted him, sapping his usual venom.
"You're already down 11 votes. Let's see you win now!" he thought. Out of 99 votes, Prince of Gangnam had an 11-vote lead. Surely he'd win… right?
To move things along, Kim Seong-joo called both contestants onstage. The show skipped the usual "guess the singer" and "show off your skills" segments—partly because foreign singers were harder to identify, but mostly because publicly humiliating a senior was bad TV.
(If this were a standard Masked Singer face-off, each contestant would perform solo before a duet. But since Chu Zhi didn't know Korean songs, he could only enter as a challenger.)
Prince of Gangnam, Shin Young-oh, stood nearly as tall as Chu Zhi—both over 180 cm—and was even more muscular from regular workouts. Yet side by side, Shin somehow seemed shorter, dwarfed by Chu Zhi's presence.
"Both singers gave us incredible performances. The Great Demon King vs. Prince of Gangnam—who won this battle of the challengers?"
Kim Seong-joo dragged out the suspense: "The winner is…"
Lights flashed chaotically as an alarm-like sound blared. Only now did the 88 audience members and 11 judges begin voting—no abstaining. The show's theory? "Pressure forces honesty."
"Did the Great Demon King win? Or Prince of Gangnam? Who did you choose? Confirm your votes!"
Once voting closed, Kim Seong-joo announced: "The winner is… the Great Demon King! The challenger triumphs with 78 votes to 21!"