From American Internet Celebrity to God Among Men

61: Chapter 61 Front Row Audience and Undercurrents in the RehearsalAfter waking up with a start at 4:00 AM, Alex did not go back to sleep.

He sat on the edge of the bed, staring at the photo on his phone screen—a front-row perspective from the audience, shot with a telephoto lens, where he and Taylor Allison were clearly visible on stage. The timestamp showed it was taken three hours ago, at which time only staff and security should have been in the warehouse.

”Hank,” he said in a low voice into his communicator.

”I’m in the control room. I see it,” Hank’s voice came back immediately. ”I’ve already pulled the surveillance footage for all warehouse entrances and exits from 7:00 PM to 11:00 PM. If anyone had snuck in, they would have definitely left a trace.”

Alex stood up and walked to the window. Outside the farmhouse villa, it was pitch black, and the silhouette of the distant Tennessee hills looked like a sleeping giant beast in the moonlight.

”They know we’re here, they know we’re rehearsing, and they were still able to sneak into the heavily guarded warehouse to take a photo,” he analyzed. ”This isn’t just stalking; it’s a display of capability—telling me that they can get close to me at any time, even under the spotlight.”

”Guardians of Truth?” Hank asked.

”Or it could be Northrop’s own people,” Alex said. ”Howard wouldn’t rely solely on outsourced PMCs; he must have an internal tactical team. Something more professional, more covert.”

Five minutes later, Rex knocked on the door, holding a tablet. ”We found something on the surveillance. But it wasn’t a break-in—it was a disguise.”

He pulled up a clip: at 8:20 PM, a utility truck marked with ”Nashville Electric” pulled up to the warehouse’s back door. Two people wearing work uniforms and hard hats got out, showed their IDs to security, and went inside. They stayed in the power distribution room for fifteen minutes, then left.

”I checked the electric company’s shift logs, and there were no maintenance plans for that area last night.” Rex zoomed in on a screenshot of one of the people’s faces—the brim of the hat was pulled very low, but the outline of the chin and a pair of ordinary black-rimmed glasses were visible.

”They only needed fifteen minutes,” Alex said, looking at the screen. ”That’s enough time to install a hidden camera somewhere in the audience area, or just to go take a photo themselves.”

”Should we sweep the venue? We can do a full inspection before the show.”

”No,” Alex shook his head. ”Sweeping will only let them know we found it. Besides, if they could install one camera, they could install ten. What we need is... countermeasures.”

He walked to the desk, opened his computer, and began to search. The 【Information Tracing (Basic)】 ability granted by the system was extremely efficient at processing online information, and soon, he locked onto a startup in Silicon Valley—Light Point Technology.

This company specialized in ”anti-surveillance visual interference technology.” Simply put, it created light pulses at specific frequencies that rendered most civilian and some military surveillance cameras ineffective for a short period or resulted in blurred footage. The technology was still in the prototype stage, but portable devices were already available.

”Contact this company,” Alex said to Rex. ”Purchase twenty sets of their latest equipment in the name of Taylor Allison’s tour team. The reason is ’preventing concert piracy.’ I want them within three days, double the price.”

”Can this equipment interfere with their surveillance?”

”It can’t stop it completely, but it can create interference. And...” Alex paused, ”I need a reason to blanket the entire venue in this interference on the day of the show. ’Preventing piracy’ is the perfect excuse.”

Rex nodded and left to make the arrangements.

Alex looked back at the email on his phone. ”Front Row Audience”—the name carried a certain malicious playfulness. The other party was enjoying this game, enjoying the tension between the cat and the mouse.

Very well.

Then let’s escalate the game.

At 7:00 AM, Alex arrived at the warehouse to begin the second day of rehearsals.

Today’s focus was to polish the dance sequence for ”Shake It Off.” The choreographer, Mia, had already refined the moves designed last night, adding more stage blocking and interaction designs for the audience.

”For the chorus, I need you both to converge from the sides of the stage to the center, then complete that signature shoulder-shaking move back-to-back,” Mia directed from off-stage. ”Alex, your movements need more power; Taylor, be a bit lighter. Create a contrast.”

The music started, and the two began to practice.

During the first run-through, Alex’s pace was a bit too fast, putting him half a beat off from Taylor Allison’s rhythm.

”Stop!” Mia called out. ”Alex, slow down. The key to this dance step is synchronization—you need to be like mirror images of each other.”

The second time, the rhythm was right, but Alex’s angle when turning wasn’t precise enough.

The third time, it was perfect.

During a break in rehearsals, Taylor Allison handed Alex a bottle of water. ”Did you sleep well last night?”

Alex took the water, not answering directly. ”You’re in good form today.”

”I’m used to it,” Taylor Allison said, sitting on the steps beside him. ”It’s always like this before a tour—pressure, excitement, and... that feeling of being watched by countless eyes. But this time is different.”

”Because of the bomb?”

”Because someone actually wants to hurt you,” Taylor Allison said, looking at him. ”And in this game, I’ve gone from a bystander to a pawn.”

Alex was silent for a moment. ”You can back out. It’s not too late.”

”And then what? Leave you to face Northrop and the Guardians of Truth alone?” Taylor Allison shook her head. ”I’ve written so many songs about courage and persistence. If I back down at a time like this, those lyrics would just be lies.”

She stood up and brushed the dust off her pants. ”Besides, you wrote ’Shake It Off’ for me. This song is about shaking off the negative voices that try to drag you down. If I don’t put it into practice myself, what right do I have to sing it?”

Alex looked at her back and suddenly smiled.

That was Taylor Allison—once she made up her mind about something, not even ten oxen could pull her back.

The morning rehearsal continued. In addition to the dancing, they also needed to hone the coordination of the vocal parts. There was a rap section in ”Shake It Off” that alternated between male and female vocals, requiring extremely high rhythm and chemistry.

”The breathing points here need to be consistent,” the music director instructed through the headphones from the control room. ”Taylor, take a deep breath after ’haters gonna hate’; Alex, your ’shake it off’ needs to come in the moment she exhales, creating a call-and-response.”

They practiced over and over until muscle memory set in.

During the lunch break, Marcus brought new news.

”The pre-sale numbers for ’We Are Young’ are out,” he said, excitedly opening his tablet. ”Digital single pre-sales have already surpassed 150,000! Streaming pre-saves have exceeded three million! Universal has already decided to increase the marketing budget by another 500,000, focusing on dominating the radio request charts.”

Alex glanced at the data. ”Has the Billboard projection been updated?”

”It has! It’s been adjusted from the top 50 in the first week to the top 30!” Marcus couldn’t hide his excitement. ”If the live performance on the day of the show is a hit, it’s entirely possible to break into the top 20!”

”Not enough,” Alex said calmly. ”I want the top ten.”

”The top ten? That requires both weekly sales and streaming numbers to reach top-tier levels...”

”That’s why we need an explosive point,” Alex said, looking at Taylor Allison, who was checking her phone not far away. ”Move the MV shoot for ’Shake It Off’ to this week.”

”This week? But the director and venue schedules...”

”Pay more, coordinate it.” Alex’s tone was unquestionable. ”I want to release a thirty-second teaser clip of ’Shake It Off’ three days before the official performance. Use Taylor Allison’s social media and sync it with my own posts to create the ’biggest suspense before the show.’”

Marcus quickly made a note. ”And the official MV?”

”Premiere it at the live show,” Alex said. ”When Taylor Allison and I finish singing the last second of ’Shake It Off’ on stage, the lights will go down, and the big screen will start playing the full MV. Then the lights will come back up, and we’ll take our bow. I want to make that night an ’event’ that every audience member will remember.”

Marcus gasped. ”This... this requires extremely precise on-site control; any mistake in the process will turn into a disaster.”

”That’s why we need to rehearse,” Alex patted him on the shoulder. ”Go arrange it. Money is not the issue; the impact is.”

After Marcus hurried away, Alex opened the system interface.

【Current Popularity: 3,020,000 points】 (Single pre-sale + media reports + rehearsal footage leak, +170,000 points)

It broke three million. The growth rate is accelerating. If the performance is a success, the goal of one million points per day is becoming more and more realistic.

He pulled up the Extraordinary Exchange list, looking at the greyed-out options:

【Spatial Phasing (Basic)】— Move through obstacles, estimated cost: 45 million additional points.

【Elemental Affinity · Fire (Basic)】— Weak control over fire, estimated cost: 22 million additional points.

【Bio-Force Field (Basic)】— Resist light weaponry, estimated cost: 38 million additional points.

Each one required tens of millions of Fame points.

But each one represented power that completely transcended the mundane.

He closed the interface and was about to get up to continue rehearsing when his phone vibrated.

A new email, from an unknown address.

No text, only an audio attachment.

Alex put on his headphones and clicked it.

The audio was only ten seconds long.

The first five seconds were static, like equipment testing. Then, a mechanically altered voice spoke:

”Southwest corner of the stage, lift control box, a gift.”

The audio ended.

Alex immediately stood up and walked toward the southwest corner of the stage. That was the backstage area, where some lighting equipment and stage machinery control boxes were stacked.

Hank and Rex had already arrived, and the three of them checked the iron cabinet labeled ”Lift Group B Control Box.”

”Looks normal on the outside, no signs of forced entry.” Hank checked the lock.

”Open it.” Alex said.

Rex pried the lock open with a tool, and the cabinet door swung open.

Inside were neatly arranged circuit boards and control modules; everything looked normal. But Alex’s Spider-Sense sent a faint stinging sensation toward the bottom right corner of the cabinet.

He crouched down and tapped the bottom panel of the cabinet with his finger.

It sounded hollow.

”There’s a false bottom.” Hank realized immediately.

They carefully removed the bottom panel, revealing a narrow hidden space underneath.

Inside was a black plastic box, about the size of a lunchbox.

”Back up.” Rex took out a portable X-ray scanner and aimed it at the box.

The scanned image showed no explosives inside the box, only... a USB drive and a folded piece of paper.

Rex put on blast-proof gloves and carefully opened the box.

Sure enough, a plain silver USB drive and a sheet of printed paper.

The paper had only one sentence on it:

”Take a listen. You’ll like it. — Front Row Audience”

Alex picked up the USB drive and inserted it into his portable encrypted laptop.

There was only one audio file on the USB drive, named ”TRUTH_20251024.”

He clicked on it.

The audio began to play.

At first, there was electrical static, then a clear male voice rang out—without any voice modification, it was his real voice:

”...The target has been confirmed to possess a threat level exceeding expectations. The original plan to eliminate the target carries too high a risk; I suggest switching to control and utilization. Howard hopes to incorporate the target into Northrop’s Special Talent Program, provided it doesn’t attract excessive public attention...”

Alex immediately recognized the voice.

Richard Vaughn. Northrop’s ”Head of Dirty Work,” and James Howard’s right-hand man.

The recording continued:

”The Guardians of Truth’s actions were too crude, leaving behind too many traces. We need a more professional team to handle the follow-up. I have already contacted ’Greystone International’; they specialize in information manipulation and soft control. The plan is: on the day of the target’s performance, create a controllable ’technical glitch’ that causes the show to be interrupted. Then, have our people intervene as ’rescuers’ to gain the target’s trust...”

The recording was three minutes and seventeen seconds long and detailed a ”soft kidnapping” plan targeting Alex—not with guns and bombs, but with carefully designed ”accidents” and ”rescues” to make him willingly walk into Northrop’s cage.

The recording ended.

The warehouse was silent.

”Greystone International...” Hank said in a low voice, ”I’ve heard that name. On the surface, they’re a high-end crisis PR firm, but in reality, they specialize in handling ’inconvenient problems’ for the wealthy and politicians. They excel at psychological manipulation and information warfare, and they are much more dangerous than the Guardians of Truth.”

Alex turned off the audio and pulled out the USB drive.

This ”gift” from the ”Front Row Audience” was priceless.

This wasn’t just a warning; it was also... an overture? Or perhaps, a provocation?

”They are telling us Northrop’s plan.” Rex analyzed, ”But what is the goal? To let us prepare in advance? Or to make us fight Northrop even harder?”

”Both.” Alex said, ”This ’Front Row Audience’ has their own agenda. He or she is neither one of Northrop’s people nor our friend. Rather, they are a third party using this conflict to achieve their own goals.”

”Then what do we do?”

Alex put the USB drive away: ”The show goes on as planned. But we need to adjust a few details.”

He quickly laid out the plan:

First, send this recording anonymously to Agent Miller. No need to explain the source; let the FBI investigate the relationship between Northrop and Greystone International.

Second, on the day of the performance, arrange a medical and security team completely independent of Taylor Allison’s crew to be on standby at all times to prevent any ”accidental rescues.”

Third, contact Marcus and have him request two sets of backup power supplies and independent communication lines from the venue on the grounds of ”complex performance technical requirements”—ensuring any ”technical glitch” can be restored within thirty seconds.

”And the most important point.” Alex looked toward the stage, ”The performance itself must be so perfect that any ’accident’ would seem jarring and suspicious. If the stage effects are stunning enough and the audience is fully immersed, then any interruption will trigger anger and skepticism—which will instead become our amulet.”

Hank nodded: ”Understood. I will re-check all security measures, especially personnel access—it’s very likely that people from Greystone International have already infiltrated the staff or contractors.”

”Do it.”

After the two left, Alex stood on the stage alone.

He looked up at the empty auditorium, imagining the night four days from now, when it would be filled with twenty thousand people, countless phone cameras would be pointed at him, and the live broadcast signal would be transmitted globally.

That would be his biggest stage yet.

And also the biggest trap.

Northrop was setting up a cage in the shadows.

”Front Row Audience” was handing over a knife in the shadows.

And he, under the spotlight, under everyone’s gaze—

Must jump out of the cage and grip the knife.

Then, sing a song that everyone would remember.

He walked to the piano and sat down.

His fingers landed on the keys, playing an improvised melody.

Low, slow, carrying a power ready to be unleashed.

Just like the calm before a storm.

Just like the breath before pulling a trigger.

The melody echoed in the empty warehouse, crescendoing, crescendoing, and then stopping abruptly on a high note.

Alex pulled his hand back and looked at his palm.

Three days later.

Four days later.

Ten million points.

The path to the Extraordinary.

Everything would converge on that stage.

And he was ready.

The afternoon rehearsal continued. Alex didn’t tell Taylor Allison about the recording, just focused more intently on the practice.

The dance moves became more proficient, and the singing coordination more tacit. By evening, the entire fifteen-minute opening performance could be completed smoothly from beginning to end.

The director applauded from the control room: ”Perfect! If the official performance can maintain this level, it will be one of the best opening performances in recent years.”

Taylor Allison wiped her sweat and walked to Alex’s side: ”You were especially focused today.”

”Because the performance is important.” Alex handed her a bottle of water, ”For you, for me, both.”

Taylor Allison looked at him, seemingly wanting to say something, but in the end, she just nodded: ”Then let’s make that night unforgettable together.”

The rehearsal ended, and the team members left one by one. Alex stayed behind, checking every corner of the stage again.

The lift control box had been repaired, showing no signs of having been pried open.

Lighting console, normal.

Sound lines, normal.

He walked to the edge of the stage, looking down at the dark auditorium.

Was that ”Front Row Audience” in some corner right now, aiming a lens at him?

Alex raised his hand and made a finger-gun gesture toward the empty auditorium.

A cold smile curled the corner of his mouth.

Then he turned and left the stage.

The lights went out one by one.

The warehouse sank into darkness.

But on the night four days from now, this place would be as bright as day.

And the name Alex Su would, along with that light—

Be branded into this era.