When the fourth song ended, the stage lights suddenly went dark. The massive platform turned into a pitch-black warehouse where you couldn't even see your hand in front of your face. The audience screamed again, the atmosphere rising to a fever pitch. At that point, whatever happened on stage, the crowd would explode anyway.
The intro began with a messy mix of sounds. It felt like being in the middle of New York traffic, or maybe on the streets of Dearborn, Detroit, near a factory with machines roaring in the distance. Barnes caught the hint right away. The song's prelude was made of "industrial noise" samples. Interesting.
Backstage, Chu Zhi had changed into a new outfit. White shirt, black suit, and a trilby hat. The perfectly tailored pants showed off the gleam of crystal-white socks above his ankles. It was a flawless recreation of Michael Jackson's iconic look, except for one thing—the left arm.
MJ's stage outfits almost always had a band around the left arm, worn to remember all the children suffering across the world. Chu Zhi's version didn't. Instead, he had red tasseled shoulder pads on both sides.
Three spotlights snapped on one after another, casting bright circles that connected into a glowing path across the dark stage. The industrial noise sped up, blending into the rhythm of synthesized brass and pounding drums.
Chu Zhi stepped into the light right on beat. With both the Wine Immortal and Madman God traits active, he delivered a stunning performance of locking dance moves.
His neck swayed, his feet advanced with rhythmic precision, his fingers moved in sync with his arms. Every motion, big or small, fit perfectly with the rhythm, like a living metronome.
The million-strong Madman God effect really let him control every muscle in his body.
🎵 "The moment she walked in, I could tell right away, this girl was different." 🎵
🎵 "Her stride, her hair, her face, her graceful lines—every move she made carried a kind of power." 🎵
🎵 "I could feel her presence. Everyone turned to look. Desire filled the air." 🎵
He sang in a low murmur, like he was whispering to himself. But with his dance, that quiet voice turned magnetic. Straightening his bow tie, stepping forward, flicking his jacket, snapping his fingers with the rhythm—each ordinary move came together to form a powerful, hypnotic charm.
Especially the moment his hand brushed his hip—the crowd erupted. If not for the earlier soul song cooling things down, people might've already fainted in waves.
🎵 "This girl's so dangerous, I can't let my guard down. She's got me under her spell, but there's danger hiding beneath." 🎵
🎵 "I know it all too well, but I still crossed the line." 🎵
🎵 "She said, 'Come with me,' I said, 'I've got no time…'" 🎵
There were no backup dancers, just lighting and sound effects filling the space. He stomped his foot, and a flashing red light came alive on the left side of the stage. He tilted his head right, and yellow lights followed his gaze.
Red and yellow lights crisscrossed, hitting the dancer in the middle, creating the illusion of a broken traffic signal in a busy city. Chu Zhi hit the beat perfectly, rising on his toes, hips rolling in time.
If anyone else did that move, it'd look like a greasy sex gimmick. But if it was MJ, it wasn't about lust—it was instinctive, natural rhythm. According to Michael himself, the motion wasn't even choreographed, it just came naturally with the music.
The Emperor Beast's version didn't have the same raw power as the original, but his looks more than made up for it.
"Oh, oh, oh!" Santo pointed wildly at the stage, then at himself, too stunned to even speak.
Maria Hanzawa, sitting beside him, jumped in shock. For a second, she thought he'd choked on fruit again.
"Sir, are you alright?" she asked, handing him a cup of warm water.
Santo's eyes gleamed. "Who choreographed this? It's dripping with masculine energy! I'm telling you, Chu Zhi's number one in the world! Anyone disagree?"
Coming from Santo, that meant something. He wasn't just a rich playboy, but a star himself. He'd seen everything—and still, he was floored. So you could imagine how insane it was for the average fan.
"I'm gonna faint! Oh my God, I can't—"
"Stay strong! You'll get trampled if you pass out now!"
"Chu Zhi!!! Chu Zhi!!! Ahhh!!!"
Most of the crowd couldn't even form words anymore. They screamed incoherently, all reason swallowed by heat and hysteria.
Seeing the chaos, the Emperor Beast toned down the seductive moves just a bit.
🎵 "This girl's so dangerous, she took my money and wasted my time." 🎵
🎵 "You can call me baby, but you'll never be any good for me." 🎵
🎵 "Dangerous!" 🎵
The lyrics of Dangerous weren't complicated. Forget the hidden metaphors—on the surface, it was just a story about a sexy woman who'll rob you blind and waste your life.
But from the looks of it, that dangerous seductress was the man dancing on stage.
As the chorus hit, MJ's iconic moves appeared in this parallel world for the first time. The dance that shook Earth decades ago now reborn before a million people.
Chu Zhi stepped forward—but it looked like an invisible force pushed him back.
🎵 "All I can do is pray, 'cause I know how greed blinds the soul." 🎵
🎵 "There's a fire hidden deep inside me, but you're not my lover, not even my friend." 🎵
🎵 "I can't sleep tonight, I'm all alone, trapped in my thoughts, drifting into the dark—you've broken me." 🎵
Then came the moonwalk.
Chu Zhi slid across the stage like electricity itself. His shoulders and arms rippled with fluid waves. Thanks to his earlier concert training, his breathing stayed steady even as he sang and danced at once.
A million spectators stared in stunned silence. What was that?
They'd never seen anything like it.
Backstage, Akenda Bell blinked. "Side-slide and back-slide?"
Rena, who had formal ballet training, nodded after a moment. "Yes, but he added a still-point glide in between. The movement's smooth, like hair coated in silk. When he slid back, it felt like gravity stopped working. It's not just a moonwalk—it's a moonwalk plus."
Akenda's face went pale with disbelief and frustration. If Chu Zhi's earlier soul piece, What's Going On, could at least be used for PR alongside his own We Are in Africa, this was a total knockout.
He cursed under his breath. "Fuck, are you kidding me? Who uses both jokers in one hand?! What am I supposed to do with pairs of twos, threes, and fours?!"
He could feel the shockwave all the way from half a venue away. If he had this kind of performance, he'd have saved it for the Grammys, not wasted it on a festival.
Nobody had ever seen Chu Zhi dance before. Not once. And now he'd not only danced, he'd invented a new style right on the spot.
"Sliding steps were always just transitions in modern dance," Santo said, hitting the nail on the head. "He turned an appetizer into a main course. And that moonwalk variation—brilliant. Perfectly my taste!"
Of course he'd notice. The man was nicknamed Booty Santo for his hips alone. Years of Latin and tango training spoke through his words.
And the brilliance didn't fade—it exploded again.
🎵 "Then it happened—she touched me." 🎵
🎵 "That stranger's lips, sweet as honey." 🎵
🎵 "Her words were smoother than her kiss, but her heart, sharp as a blade." 🎵
The choreography looked deceptively simple, but in truth it fused locking, popping, tap, modern, and jazz into one seamless flow.
Between the chorus and the bridge, the lights went out again. The sound of breathing echoed in the dark—the seductive kind, straight from the lyrics.
A million people held their breath. Everyone liked to think they were decent, but even decent people can't resist temptation like that. The crowd boiled with restlessness.
When the tension peaked, a single spotlight snapped on. Chu Zhi's shadow appeared on the ground, tipping his hat and lowering his head.
The beat kicked in again, and the silhouette turned real.
The moonwalk returned.
Click. Click. The reporters went wild, cameras flashing nonstop.
That move—
No doubt about it.
Absolute kill!