I have only a few words for "The Scroll of Mountains and Rivers."

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[Isn't this episode's theme rap? Look at how fashionable the other contestants are dressed. What are those two up to?]
[Are they about to perform some shamanic ritual or something, haha.]
[The production team finally did something right—today is group performances, much shorter, finally we won't have to stay up late.]
[Awesome! Ji Fanxing can get eliminated earlier.]

Sitting in the chief selector’s seat, Song Qing was distracted today; she couldn’t help but steal glances at Ji Fanxing, resenting how she could sit so calmly in her high position, imagining the moment she would fall from grace amidst the scorn of the masses.

It wasn’t until Song Qing’s group took the stage that her attention returned.

[Wait, hasn't this group already performed this song earlier?]
[Did they even bother picking a song, or are they intentionally choosing the same one as Ji Fanxing? But it sounds awful!]
[I don't think Ji Fanxing has anything to do with it. Maybe Song Qing just likes to repeat herself.]

Due to deep internal conflicts, the group’s performance lacked all coordination, and the awkward duplication of song choice left both Song Qing and her teammates with low scores, almost at the bottom.

“This is the song you went to such lengths to choose?”
As they left the stage, her teammate mocked Song Qing mercilessly.

Some new viewers, drawn in by trending topics, thought that this was the average standard of “King of All Singers.”

[I don’t get it. If this is the level of the show, do they really need to lip-sync to win?]
[Ji Fanxing must have some serious backing. I bet she’s already been decided as the winner.]
[Entertainment here is rotten to the core. Just let it all burn.]

Amid the barrage of ridicule, Ji Shengxue and Hailan’s group took the stage. Their outfits contrasted sharply in black and white—simple, sharp, with a hint of futurism. The moment the music began, the stage seemed to come alive.

Ji Shengxue, so typically gentle, now wore a camisole and black shorts, each dance movement powerful and full of tension, while Hailan moved like a white spirit swimming through the deep sea.

The stage was so striking that the live comments finally took on a positive tone.

[A Xue is going all out! So cool!!!]
[What a perfect match—A Xue is the CP Queen; she looks good with anyone!]
[No matter where she is, A Xue is always the brightest!]
[I feel like Hailan's performance was just average this round; maybe she's only suited for rock. Her strengths are so unbalanced.]

Ji Fanxing’s gaze grew thoughtful—she noticed that the key chosen for Hailan’s solo was too low, not suited to her at all. Her voice seemed sealed by an invisible knot, muffled, unable to display her full talent.

This wasn’t real teamwork; it was more like Ji Shengxue dominating alone.

Ji Fanxing looked away from the stage, haunted by memories from her previous life.

Last time, on the eve of the finals, a video of Hailan changing clothes in the dressing room was leaked online and quickly spread alongside the “King of All Singers” finale’s popularity. In Longguo, where social mores for women are largely conservative, Hailan was devastated, losing the courage to take the stage again.

An investigation revealed the camera had been installed in the dressing room assigned to Ji Shengxue. Given the severity of the incident, everyone who had entered the room was listed as a suspect—including Ji Fanxing herself, who, after finally recovering from her initial stage incident, had been dragged onto the show by her mother to support her elder sister.

It should have been a routine investigation, but somehow, the details were leaked.

“Suspect Ji Fanxing” became a national scandal once more.

...

Her thoughts returned to the present as Ji Fanxing looked deeply at Hailan, sweating under the lights and still at a disadvantage.

“Who really did it?” In her previous life, she died without learning the truth. Propping her head with one hand, Ji Fanxing closed her eyes in contemplation.

She had a feeling that the real culprit was close by. This time, she would stop it from happening and see justice done.

The performance ended, and this stunning display earned Ji Shengxue a high score of 90, the highest of the night.

Hailan, however, scored only 85 for her weaker showing—a new personal low.

After all 43 groups had performed, Ji Fanxing still hadn’t appeared on stage, but the host, Brother Du, opened the random draw box with a grim face—only to reveal it was empty.

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The sudden move shocked the audience.

[So there was never a card for Ji Fanxing in the box?]
[You’re not even pretending anymore, huh? Next, they’ll just announce Ji Fanxing as this episode’s winner, right?]

Every camera zoomed in on Ji Fanxing, capturing her every expression.

Surrounded with no escape, Ji Fanxing remained unmoved, watching the show’s antics with cool indifference.

“Dear viewers, in light of recent controversy, and to prove the absolute fairness of our contestants’ performances,” the host announced, “before Ji Fanxing’s performance, we have specially invited independent auditors to verify her audio sources.”

He added, apologetic, “Sorry, Fanxing, we didn’t inform you in advance…”

Ji Fanxing merely smiled faintly and waved it off.

Under everyone’s scrutiny, the auditors meticulously checked every aspect of her audio setup, recording each step in detail. The atmosphere was tense—everyone watched the solemn process, except for Ji Fanxing, who seemed completely unconcerned, almost wanting to applaud whoever came up with this PR move.

In the midst of online attacks, making her a scapegoat was the cheapest way for the show to profit.

If her backing track was found faulty, the show could claim to take the matter seriously, clear its own name, and distance itself from the lip-syncing scandal. But if she was proven innocent, “King of All Singers” would not only restore public trust but also generate positive buzz and boost its own stature.

Originally, Ji Fanxing could have ignored the lip-sync rumors online. But with this, the program had thrust her into the eye of the storm.

In this cutthroat entertainment world, getting caught up in a scandal was usually a death sentence—no one helps you, they only push you further down.

The livestream split the screen: one side showed the audit, the other Ji Fanxing’s reaction. If she showed even a hint of nervousness, it would be seized upon as further proof of guilt.

[Looks like the show really is innocent, otherwise they wouldn’t do this.]
[Are we sure she didn’t rehearse this? Why is she so calm?]
[You’re underestimating the authority of the auditors; the show wouldn’t dare play tricks.]

After a moment both short and endless, the auditors announced everything was fine.

Now, as long as Ji Fanxing sang a song as difficult as her debut stage, she could fully clear her name.

But how could she possibly turn things around in this round, so unprepared and caught off guard?

This episode’s theme was the less popular genre of rap.

What could she possibly do with rap?

Her only chance to recover would be in the next round—but at this rate, the odds were she’d be disqualified by public opinion before then...

Thinking of this, Song Qing nearly burst out laughing behind her hand. Her online smear campaign hadn’t been in vain; now, Ji Fanxing, get off the stage! You don’t deserve to be here!

“And now—King Ji Fanxing! And Chu Hao~~!”

The show quickly resumed recording as normal, with the auditors still sitting near the sound booth.

Ji Fanxing and Chu Hao descended from the King’s seat and walked toward the main stage, earning glances both sympathetic and gloating along the way.

“Why are you always being targeted?” Chu Hao, walking beside her, asked quietly.

After spending time together, Chu Hao wasn’t worried about her abilities—he just wondered why someone so strong was so maligned.

Ji Fanxing glanced at him. She’d already seen through the cool façade of this “bad boy.”

“You don’t understand. To wear the crown is to bear its weight—being King, this is nothing.”

“…”

Expressionless, Chu Hao put away his passing sympathy and strode onto the stage.

[Are they still not getting along, even as they go up?]
[Ji Fanxing’s about to be finished, why bother being nice to her?]

The stage lights danced across Ji Fanxing and Chu Hao—they stood firm and imposing as mountains.

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The first note of “Portrait of Rivers and Mountains” rang out as Ji Fanxing took a deep breath.

“O ha ei yi ye~——”

The sudden drawn-out note silenced the room.

The long tune, one of the most iconic forms of traditional Mongolian Chinese music, soared with a unique desolation, its rhythm free and unhurried.

Through Ji Fanxing’s lingering chant, the audience saw a vast, majestic panorama unfold—a world broad and magnificent.

A surge of pride welled up in every heart.

Xie Huai leapt to his feet, losing all pretense of composure as a seasoned musician, staring in astonishment at the performer on stage.

“What is...?!”

Before Ji Fanxing’s long note ended, Chu Hao’s low, husky rap began, powerful and resonant, painting a grand landscape.

“See these mountains—ravines and ridges, one after another—”
“See these rivers—stars racing, birds gathering, bend after bend—”
...

The lyrics had been subtly altered to fit this world. Each word became a bold stroke painting mountain ranges, rolling rivers, towering waves...

“Ha ei~ ha ha ei~——”

Another long note nearly split the skulls of the live audience; Ji Fanxing seemed effortless, even moving around the stage to interact with Chu Hao.

“I want to return to the grasslands, playing the zither beneath the moonlight—”
...

The zither’s notes rang out, stirring and distant, as Ji Fanxing’s throat singing vibrated to the core.

“Portrait of Rivers and Mountains” unfolded grandly again and again in everyone’s ears.

“These mountains—these rivers—this portrait——!”

The word “portrait” soared so high it brought chills to the audience.

“Splash the ink~”

The two worked in perfect harmony, painting a magnificent landscape with their music.

The audience was left utterly stunned by this unprecedented performance.

Ji Fanxing’s lyrics were few, but the difficulty was absurdly high.

Chu Hao’s strength shone through, delivering long verses with each word clear and forceful.

The two of them were stage bandits, blowing everyone’s minds.

When the song ended, the audience was left blank, still reeling.

...

[Mother... I just heard the voice of heaven...]
[My god! What kind of divine singing is this?]
[That knot in my chest is finally gone! Sister Ji, you’re awesome! Let’s see who dares accuse you of lip-syncing now!]
[Across all directions, through all ages, we have a new King: Ji Fanxing!!]
[What’s with these two—weren’t they supposed to not get along?! This stage! This chemistry! Please, chain them to the spot and make them perform a hundred times!!!]
[Why are you so cruel above! If you weld my Hao-ge in place, how will he dance? Better just lock him up to perform.]

Compared to the live broadcast, the impact in the venue was even more overwhelming.