{Chapter: 314 Can't keep up!}
Lin Yuan continued to play.
Zzzzzzz—!
As the piece reached its terrifying climax, the already jagged and grating sound of the violin intensified. It grew shriller, sharper—like blades scraping against glass, echoing through the auditorium with a force that gnawed at the nerves.
It was as if each note clawed directly into the audience's soul.
On stage, Xie Shixuan—Lin Yuan's accompanist—was on the verge of collapse.
Her fingers, delicate and skilled as they were, began to tremble under the pressure. Her joints ached, her shoulders tensed, and her breathing became irregular. She was no longer just playing music; she was surviving it.
Lin Yuan's power on the violin was overwhelming, and it infected her entire being.
His momentum was terrifying. His tempo continued to rise—feral, uncontrolled, like a storm consuming the sky. Each stroke of his bow sent her further into emotional turmoil, and she could feel her carefully maintained composure slipping.
Her fingers missed notes. Her timing faltered. She could no longer keep pace.
Though she had been trained in piano for years, and was no stranger to pressure or talent, Lin Yuan's performance surpassed everything she had ever experienced. Her piano notes began to lag—first by a sliver, then by nearly an entire beat.
He was no longer playing with her.
He was leading, and she was merely clinging on, desperately trying not to fall behind.
Worse still, the musical score Lin Yuan had provided her was itself cruel and unrelenting. The arrangement was darker, harsher than the original—filled with eerie modulations and deliberate dissonance. It was a test of both skill and spirit.
Even so, she continued to play. For the sake of the audience, for the sake of the performance, she forced her trembling hands to follow through. But she knew—if it had been just her, she would have stopped already.
She would've broken down from the pressure.
Lin Yuan's violin was like a storm of shadows; her piano was the soft light of dawn trying to hold it back.
Realizing this, she shifted her playing style.
She softened the notes, slowed her tempo, and played gently—almost like a lullaby woven between nightmare screams. Her melody no longer tried to match Lin Yuan's; instead, it danced around his performance like a comforting spirit.
And that contrast… saved the crowd.
The audience—dozens, perhaps hundreds—were on the brink.
Some were shaking, their bodies trembling involuntarily. Pupils dilated. Hands gripping tightly into fists. There were those whose faces were streaked with tears they didn't even know had fallen. Some clutched their chests, overwhelmed by emotion.
The sheer emotional pressure Lin Yuan unleashed was suffocating.
If not for Xie Shixuan's soft piano—a gentle anchor amidst chaos—many in the crowd might have collapsed.
Good music stirs emotions. Great music moves hearts. But what Lin Yuan was doing… it tore open souls.
Most musical performances uplift people. Even sad songs often carry a sweetness—a touch of nostalgia or gentle sorrow.
But this?
This was not that.
This was The Devil's Trill—a piece born from torment, temptation, and shadow. Under Lin Yuan's hands, it became a mirror that exposed the darkness in every listener's heart. A whisper from the abyss, dragging hidden fears, regrets, and suppressed emotions into the light.
It didn't heal—it judged.
It was art in its rawest form. It forced people to confront themselves.
And Lin Yuan played it perfectly.
When his bow finally stopped—hanging in the air like the reaper's scythe after a final cut—there was utter silence.
No one moved. No one clapped.
They were still trapped in that hellish dreamscape, gasping for air, like drowning men breaking through the surface of a deep sea.
Eventually, breath returned.
But expressions did not soften. Even as they regained their senses, many looked toward Lin Yuan with awe… and fear.
He was beautiful—elegant, composed, dressed like a prince—but in those last few moments, he had seemed something else entirely.
Something… inhuman.
Gui Qingtong stared at him, stunned and speechless.
She already liked Lin Yuan. She admired his piano, his voice, his presence. She had always thought of him as gentle and refined. But this side… this terrifying mastery of the violin, this unchained power…
She never knew he could play the violin at all, let alone like this.
And though it shook her, she didn't feel afraid. Instead, her curiosity grew. Her admiration deepened.
She wanted to know more. She wanted to be closer to him than ever before.
Gui Qingtong silently resolved: she would beg him to teach her. She wanted to learn everything she could from Lin Yuan—even if it meant walking through hell.
Xie Shiyin, usually composed and cool-headed, was just as stunned.
She knew Gui Qingtong. They were friends. She had met Lin Yuan before—but only briefly. Now, watching him under the stage lights, she could hardly believe her eyes.
Gui Qingtong's father? He played the violin like that?
She had studied string instruments for most of her life. The cello was her passion, the violin her cherished side study. She had tried "The Devil's Trill" before—and failed. Even seasoned professionals rarely attempted the full piece.
But Lin Yuan didn't just play it—he conquered it.
He dominated it.
And it dominated everyone else in return.
As her thoughts swirled, her gaze fell upon Xie Shixuan.
Xie Shixuan stood beside the piano bench, chest rising and falling as she struggled to catch her breath.
Her body trembled. Her legs were weak. She looked at Lin Yuan as if still in a trance—her cheeks flushed, her eyes wide.
The performance had drained her.
Yet she smiled faintly, lips parted in disbelief.
Lin Yuan's power hadn't just shaken her physically—it had touched something deep inside her soul. Being overwhelmed had not humiliated her—it had changed her.
She felt honored, somehow.
Even though her piano had been overtaken, even though she had fallen behind, she had shared the stage with him.
And that… that was more than enough.
Lin Yuan's violin skills were no longer just exceptional.
They were unforgettable.
They were legendary.
After the intense ensemble, Xie Shixuan sat motionless at the piano for a moment, her fingers trembling as she caught her breath. A faint smile crossed her lips as she quietly muttered to herself, "I think… I've improved."
She wasn't wrong.
Something about playing alongside Lin Yuan—being swept into his turbulent tempo, carried by the raw emotion of the piece—had pushed her beyond her own limits. It was as if his music had forcibly pulled her into another realm, one where she had no choice but to grow, adapt, and evolve. Even if just a little, her piano skills had been refined by the storm he summoned with his violin.
Then, the crowd finally stirred.
A murmur rippled through the audience, quickly growing into a chorus of awe, confusion, and admiration.
"That was incredible… that violin performance… absolutely stunning!"
"I play the violin too, but what I just witnessed was on another level entirely. It's not even in the same universe as what I can do!"
"Who is that man? He's got the looks, the aura of wealth, and now this talent? But… he's someone else's dad?! That's just unfair!"
"What kind of tune was that though? It was terrifying!"
"Yeah! The way it slithered into my mind, it felt like it was exposing my soul! I've never heard anything so haunting… so beautiful and horrible at the same time."
The audience was left shaken, many still wiping tears from their eyes or trying to steady their breath. Lin Yuan's performance wasn't just music—it had been an experience. A confrontation with something dark and unknowable. The kind of performance that leaves a permanent mark.
With so many overwhelmed, the crowd instinctively turned toward the most respected individuals in the room—the instructors and professors from the Jiangbei Conservatory of Music. As professional musicians and mentors, surely they would be able to shed light on what they had just witnessed.
Vice Principal He Tao stood up slowly, as if still recovering himself. His aged eyes sparkled with a rare fire as he addressed the hall.
"That piece," he began solemnly, his voice steady but filled with reverence, "is known as 'The Devil's Trill.'"
There was a visible reaction from the crowd—many had never heard of it before, and those who had still looked shaken.
"It is a classical violin piece," He Tao continued, "one of the most infamous ever written. While not commonly played due to its unique and terrifying style, it is undoubtedly a masterwork in the classical world. Its composer, Giuseppe Tartini, lived in the 18th century."
A hush fell over the room as He Tao leaned slightly forward, his voice dropping into a more mysterious tone.
"Legend has it that Tartini dreamed of gaining unparalleled violin mastery. In that dream, he encountered the Devil himself—and struck a deal. In exchange for his soul, the Devil played him a piece of music unlike anything he had ever heard. A piece that clawed into his heart and filled him with awe and dread."
He paused for effect.
"When Tartini awoke, he rushed to transcribe what he remembered of the music. That composition became known as The Devil's Trill Sonata. However, even Tartini admitted that what he wrote down was but a shadow of what he had heard in the dream. He said—and I quote—that he would give up all his compositions just to hear that infernal sonata one more time, played to perfection."
A gasp swept through the audience. The legend had always sounded like an eerie tale meant to entertain. But after hearing Lin Yuan's performance, it didn't feel so far-fetched anymore.