Chapter 113: The Absolute Outlier

Beneath the blinding stage lights, Zhang Qiyang once again stepped onto the battlefield of performance!

With his chin slightly raised, his defiant and unconventional appearance set him apart from this world.

Though clad in an eye-catching vintage polka-dot suit dominated by black tones—somewhat absurd to the untrained eye—

any discerning observer could see through it.

From head to toe, inside and out, in his gaze and attitude, from his very bones to his soul, Zhang Qiyang radiated an extraordinary aura of unshakable confidence.

It was as if the entire world lay beneath his feet.

Perhaps outsiders couldn’t fathom where Zhang Qiyang’s audacious, all-conquering courage stemmed from.

To many, such arrogance seemed synonymous with foolish pride.

But Zhang Qiyang knew better: those who looked down on him were the truly foolish ones.

In the realm of the body, he could effortlessly transcend human limits;

in the realm of the mind, he could bridge dimensions to absorb the entire spiritual and cultural wealth of another world.

What separated him from a god descended to earth?

The world’s richest man? A mere trifle.

Now, in his youthful prime, setting his sights on becoming the world’s richest man was as effortless for him as it was for Wang Jianlin in another world to aim for a mere hundred million.

If he wished, he could unleash his full force to trample humanity, shaking the world and proving to all small-minded skeptics that gods truly exist.

Perhaps then only the primordial ancestor or the divine could stand on equal footing with him.

This was the foundation of his confidence and arrogance.

Of course, it might all be his own vain delusion—

A fearless recklessness he was compelled to unleash upon reclaiming his youth.

But having this power, why not overturn the world?

If he lacked the courage to upend the world, what kind of traveler through time and space would he be?

He wouldn’t even deserve to be the hero of his own story.

Those who despised him were ninety-nine percent shackled by the world’s constraints—imprisoned in thought and fate.

Eighty percent no longer young.

Seventy percent bereft of rebellious spirit.

Sixty percent once rebellious but harshly taught by the world.

Fifty percent believing themselves mature, adept at abiding by and manipulating rules—when in fact, they were the ones oppressed and toyed with by those very rules.

The youthful, unyielding souls yet unassimilated by the world should, like Zhang Qiyang, possess “alien” self-awareness and rebellious thoughts.

They dare to burn their youth without regret, to resist this world.

Most will fail, eventually assimilated into conforming adults.

But the world has never been propelled forward by conformists.

The rules they follow and boundaries they tread were never crafted by conformists themselves.

As Steve Jobs said—this world has always been driven forward by the “mad ones.”

The “mad ones” he spoke of were geniuses, revolutionaries—precisely the “alien” Zhang Qiyang was about to sing for.

Today, he sang not only to confront his detractors but to awaken those fiery beasts of rebellion still alive in the hearts of the passionate.

He was an alien.

More than that, he hoped his voice could channel immense spiritual power, inspiring more “aliens” who might shatter the old world’s rules and build a vibrant new order.

Not everyone should be bound by so-called worldly rules, shackled for a thousand years without release.

This song was for the young.

For those who still had the chance to be young.

The old world would eventually collapse.

The new world might not come swiftly.

But the gunfire had already sounded.

Each day brought them closer to light and victory.

And one thing was certain:

The new order would be forged and shaped by “aliens” like him.

Those cowed by the old world, tamed by worldly rules, afraid to embrace the new and unwilling to hear his song—close your ears.

For he would rend this world apart with a voice utterly alien.

With a cool gesture to his band,

a fierce, murderous gleam flickered in Zhang Qiyang’s eyes, like a wild beast breaking free from hell’s cage, ready to tear through the eardrums of all with his untamed energy.

The audience fell silent.

Truth be told, most there disliked Zhang Qiyang.

But facing this discordant “alien” in person, few dared openly criticize him.

Or rather, they dared not do so to his face.

For some inexplicable reason, this legendary figure exuded an uncommon aura.

Labeling him a brainless nonconformist was inaccurate.

He resembled a madman or demon beneath that guise.

An uncanny terror emanated from him.

A dangerous aura.

Just like his name—“Cannon Lord.”

One careless moment, and he could blow you to smithereens, reduce you to ash.

Confronted by this earthly demon, many audience members felt repelled yet thrilled.

Tired of the old world’s sameness, they yearned for a taste of difference.

And Cannon Lord delivered that unparalleled experience.

They might not like his voice, but the thrill and ecstasy it evoked would be unforgettable.

A rhythmically intense, single-line new metal intro began.

Like a curtain rising on war—a prelude both gentle and ruthless.

This overture made everyone realize a great battle was inevitable.

Indeed!

Before the two-bar gentle intro ended, Cannon Lord’s eyes suddenly widened, his expression exaggerated as if possessed by the god of wrath.

He lifted the microphone and unleashed his rap barrage!

“If you don’t like my song, close your ears! Next comes a massacre tearing through your eardrums! Piercing to your soul’s depths, making you worship me! Follow me! Follow me! Follow me—fight against the world!…”

“We are born rebels, alarms long sounded! The atmosphere will ignite! Listen well! I fear nothing, making all my foes taste defeat! Follow me! Follow me! Follow me, scream out loud!…”

With wild, furious emotion riding the heavy metal melody, his guttural roar resembled a beast’s howl!

Every word from Zhang Qiyang was a weighty cannonball, striking hearts and igniting sparks and fractures.

These cannonballs carried a poison that attacked poison itself, shattering the stale rules embedded deep within people’s hearts, striving to awaken the primal, reckless passion that might still dwell there.

From the first terrifying guttural roar, the fiery young audience surged with blood and spirit, as if their souls were ablaze with Cannon Lord’s music.

Those feigning indifference, asleep at the wheel, were battered by this alien rhythm, as if ancient sealed gates were being hammered by the relentless hammers of a new era, slowly cracking open.

At the climax, with a sharp crack, all resisting gates shattered!

Like countless rays of dawn flooding every heart, Cannon Lord’s wildest, most radiant voice overturned the atmosphere of today’s “I Sing” live broadcast from the very first note!