65 Adapt to Change

"Ha ha ha ha......"

Laughter echoed in the air.

"...However, he had to relinquish the throne due to his obsession with cleanliness, nearly meeting his end in a gas station restroom. Let's salute his sacrifice, Cliff Barron!"

In a split second, Ronan transitioned from poking fun at Cliff's height to witnessing the audience at the front of the stage erupt into laughter, their infectious mirth spreading like wildfire.

Ronan couldn't resist the urge to turn and see what had transpired behind him. He caught a glimpse of Ollie's legs soaring gracefully over the drum kit before vanishing. Unable to hold back, Ronan too burst into laughter.

"Hahaha."

Although Ronan had pulled the microphone away, his hearty laughter still resonated through the mic, leaving the audience with no doubt that Ronan, along with Maxim, found the situation hysterical.

Meanwhile, Cliff, standing next to them, wore a somber expression, unsure whether to continue playing his guitar or not.

But this momentary pause was short-lived.

Ronan stepped forward, microphone in hand, managing to control his laughter. He asked, "Oli, are you alright?"

Despite knowing it was inappropriate to laugh, he couldn't suppress the smiles at the corners of his mouth and in his eyes.

He watched Ollie lying on the ground, clutching his stomach and laughing uproariously at the sky.

Ollie's laughter was even more exaggerated than Ronan and Maxim's.

It reverberated like thunder, as if the earth itself was quaking in response. He waved at Ronan, assuring him that he was unharmed.

After confirming Ollie's well-being, Ronan turned to Maxim, who had already detoured to help Ollie. Then he looked at Cliff, offering a comforting gaze. He said, "Hold on, let's switch things up a bit and welcome the drumming king ahead of schedule!"

In the wake of the stage mishap, Cliff had already missed his moment to shine, but Ronan remained composed, seamlessly steering the conversation.

"The prince from the elven kingdom of Middle-earth, a natural-born comedian, always manages to win the crowd with his clumsy and straightforward body language. His knack for interruptions is unparalleled! Let's welcome him with thunderous applause, Ollie Love!"

Hahaha.

Hahaha.

Laughter filled the room once more.

Ronan cleverly weaved the unexpected stage mishaps into his introduction, especially the word "interruption" that diffused the tension between Ollie and Cliff.

It was both witty and humorous, leaving even Cliff unable to resist a chuckle. Watching the tall and sturdy Ollie struggle to get up, his awkward and genuine movements resembling a bear raiding a beehive, was enough to make everyone smile.

Ollie didn't mind being the subject of Ronan's jests. He waved his right hand to acknowledge the audience's applause.

This gesture prompted the entire front-row audience to cheer and shout, creating an electric atmosphere.

With that, Ollie set aside his playful grin and focused on showcasing his drumming skills.

The thunderous beats poured forth like a tempest, the resounding soundwaves washing over the audience's eardrums, rekindling the excitement from moments ago and taking it to even greater heights.

"Now, let's redirect our attention to the Guitar King, and never underestimate the resilience of this gentleman, who survived a highway gas station restroom ordeal on our journey from Los Angeles to New Orleans. He holds the key to our survival."

The playful banter continued, with Ronan effortlessly bringing the spotlight back to Cliff. "Let's applaud this warrior, Cliff Barron!"

Ollie and Maxim laughed heartily, their perspective as onlookers turning Ronan's jokes into pure entertainment. They momentarily forgot they had been part of the hilarity just moments ago.

Both of them looked at Cliff, laughter still dancing in their eyes.

You could feel the passionate emotions emanating from Cliff's guitar as he played. Each note sliced through the air like a razor-sharp blade.

However, Ronan's smile remained unwavering. After Cliff's performance, he returned to the center of the stage, basking in the spotlight.

Even after a high-energy performance, Ronan's breathing remained steady as he energetically introduced the band members.

The thirty-minute set felt like a warm-up, a prelude. Then, his smile gradually faded, and all the radiance concentrated in his eyes, exuding an unwavering confidence.

"At last!"

"I, Ronan Cooper, welcome you all to our kingdom. Even if it's only for thirty minutes, let's join hands and await the dawn to shatter the chains of the night. Let's embrace the darkest hour, for the golden sun surges at the edge of darkness, awaiting the arrival of warriors!"

Boom, boom, boom!

The powerful words reverberated, reaching a climax in the Old Blacksmith Bar. Ronan's brief but potent introduction ignited the crowd's enthusiasm.

They no longer felt the fatigue and chill of dawn; instead, the heat of the party blazed on.

The audience raised their arms and shouted, regardless of whether they understood what was happening. Their blurry eyes and flushed cheeks mirrored one another.

Though they had expended their physical strength and energy, the exhilaration of igniting the flame of life elevated this carnival to new heights, bordering on a transcendent experience.

Words could not do justice to the moment.

"Now, let's dive into the final revelry! Let our blood boil, our energy surge, and as we stand on the ruins of a world's demise, let us sing loudly!"

Duncan found himself momentarily stunned, taking a moment to catch up. The thirty-minute performance was drawing to a close, and he had only just returned to the festivities.

The Kings' performance had come to an end. The profound sense of longing and regret surged within him.

Yet, Ronan, standing on the stage, remained composed. He lowered his head, allowing the cacophony to slowly subside.

The cheers and shouts, a chaotic blend of screams, exultations, protests, laughter, mockery, and cheers, filled the air. But none of these noises had the power to disrupt Ronan.

He stood there in silence, his eyelids slightly lowered. The world seemed to hush around him. The audience exchanged glances, only able to hear a faint buzzing sound resonating in their eardrums.

It was as if that buzzing was the sound of darkness surging, the sound of sunshine blooming.