Andrew lost his position as lead drummer, and before he even got warm, Ryan swaggered in, and then squeezed out Andrew with an even better performance to become the starting drummer of the music chamber band, even though Andrew was emotionally uncontrollably trying to fight for Fletcher, but to no avail.

First the alienation of the family, then the loss of the chief, the precariousness of the dream and the loneliness of the dream made Andrew feel a deep sense of crisis, he realized that he had been too carried away lately, and there was obviously slackness, but Ryan caught up and he had no capital to be proud at all.

So, Andrew and Nicole broke up. But the way of breaking up is very hurtful, because he thinks that Nicole's existence cannot make him great, so he can no longer continue to "accommodate" Nicole, cruel, cold, bloody, egoistic, arrogant, ruthless, indifferent, Andrew calmly said goodbye to Nicole in a decisive way, and can even be said to have "abandoned" Nicole.

The audience once again fell into a sense of psychological discomfort, and the burning sensation brought by the bottom line of moral conscience began to burn in the stomach, which Andrew really didn't like, but this feeling quickly turned into surprise and consternation, because Andrew was not only cruel to others, but also more vicious to himself.

In order to regain the top position, Andrew began retreat training, prepared ice cubes in advance, and then began to officially practice the double swing technique, and challenged the ultra-high difficulty of 400 strokes in the "caravan".

That kind of madness and persistence, that kind of paranoia and ruthlessness, made the audience feel numb.

And that's not all.

During the next training, Fletcher played a piece of jazz music and told a story about his disciples.

A boy who didn't even know scales, a boy who nearly couldn't get into Shelver College, but eventually Fletcher recruited him into the music chamber band, and by his junior year, the boy had become the number three musician at Lincoln Center, and a year later, he was the principal. But sadly, he passed away yesterday as a result of a car accident.

His name is Sean Casey.

In a rare sight, Fletcher divulged his vulnerability and helplessness, sitting in front of all the band members, quietly telling the story, and tears broke down in his eyes.

But there was still silence in the entire rehearsal room.

Fletcher quickly returned to his normal state and rehearsed, but apparently his mind was still a little confused, and Ryan Connelly, who is now the lead drummer, had barely played the first four beats when Fletcher stopped practicing, shaking his head repeatedly, unable to satisfy the current rhythm.

"Why don't you give Neiman a try. Fletcher said.

Andrew, who was sitting calmly next to him and holding his arms, couldn't help but raise the corners of his mouth slightly, although he calmed down immediately, he still revealed the pride and joy in his heart.

Now, the three drummers of Andrew Neiman, Ryan Connery, and Carl Turner are your life-and-death rivals, and that invisible sense of blood is spreading little by little.

Fletcher is encouraging this, the survival of the fittest, the survival of the fittest, and the primitive and cruel codes of nature are vividly displayed in the practice room of the jazz band.

"Maybe it's time for Neiman to win back the top. Fletcher said, but after only a four-beat session, Fletcher interrupted again, "No, I guess forget it." Turner!" After another four-beat pass, Fletcher kicked over his music stand in a fit of rage, "Grass/you/mom!" The whole man stood up angrily and said through gritted teeth, "Connery roll me to the drum kit!"

Fletcher lowered his voice and said word by word, "If you three can't play the rhythm today, we won't go home!" The light and simple words fully showed the fierceness and irritability, "One, two, let's go!" Before even four beats, Fletcher cut off the performance, "It looks like we're going to stay all night." Neiman!"

Another four beats, and Fletcher yelled at Andrew with angry eyes and a hideous face, "It's not my rhythm!"

Breathe deeply!

Fletcher calmed himself down with a deep breath, and he turned to look at the rest of the band.

"I'm sorry, everyone. I hate to have everyone go through this, and if you're going to get tuba or coffee or something, now is the perfect time to do it, because no one is allowed to go home until these drummers can hit their exact rhythm! I'm serious. Ten minutes, twenty minutes, an hour. ”

Then Fletcher turned to look at the three drummers, "Did you hear that?" Little by little, his eyes became fierce and cold, "You'd better hit me with the perfect four hundred hits before it's too late!

Torture!

Then came the ordeal, both for the three drummers on the big screen and for the audience outside the big screen.

Andrew no, Turner on, Turner no, Connery on, Connelly no, Andrew on.

There's an endless loop between the three drummers, and everyone is competing against themselves, against their opponents, against Fletcher, against the drum kit.

The physical torture was already manifesting itself, everyone was sweating profusely, as if they were in a sauna, the sweat completely built up the clothes, even the hair could drip water, the overdraft of physical strength made the muscles begin to stiffen, and worse, the tiger's mouth and wrists began to wear out, the dark red blood stained the drumsticks red, and the pain like embroidery needles began to slowly penetrate.

The physical torture is making the consciousness begin to blur, but compared to the mental blow, it seems that it is not so terrible, the worst thing is that the physical pain is challenging the nerves, and the mental collision is repeatedly crushing the last vestiges of reason. The torment of the double blow is tearing the three drummers apart.

Even the other musicians, who were doing nothing in the practice room, could faintly hear the scolding, and the stuffiness and tension began to creep in, making them feel like pins and needles, not to mention the three drummers who were experiencing it all in the studio.

They were bathed in Fletcher's swearing and humiliation at this time, not a simple "damn" or "hell", but a real personal attack! What race/race/discrimination/discrimination/discrimination/personality/insult/insult, what family and friends, what political correctness, completely lost the shackles of the bottom line and boundaries, and Fletcher brought mental torture that he could not bear as much as he could imagine, like the hands of a pair of giants, tearing their souls apart little by little.

The whole screening hall was in tension, the dull and hot suffocation felt through the shackles of the big screen, making every audience present feel the same way, every second of watching the movie became a torment, which really made people sit still, the urge to run away began to surge in the mind, the burning of the stomach continued to roll, and every cell of the body was screaming and screaming.

The psychological and physical discomfort is at its peak at this moment.

Then the audience looked at Andrew, who had fallen into madness, hot sweat dripping from his hair, and the devil seemed to be able to be seen in his light brown pupils, and his cheeks, which were so pale that there was no trace of blood, revealed a sense of collapse of a lost soul, as if standing on the edge of a cliff and in danger, and then the devil hidden in the depths of his eyes seemed to be able to break free at any time, tear this skin, and break through the ground.

The mixture of shock and fear is truly chilling.

"The Devil...... Devil!"

That's the only thought that is in the minds of the audience right now.

Even if Fletcher was screaming in his ear, even if Fletcher kept hitting the apparatus to disrupt the rhythm, even if Fletcher raised the snare drum and threw it away...... Andrew still didn't stop beating, and then he could see that the dark red blood was uncontrollable, flowing out of the wound of the tiger's mouth, sliding down the drumstick, and spilling on the drum surface, red and red like plum blossoms.

Finally, someone in the screening room couldn't bear it anymore and retched fiercely again, but the most terrible thing was that even the sound of retching was tightly covered in the palm of his hand, lest his slightest sound might become the object of Fletcher's anger, or the object of Andrew's inner devil.

The boundary between the unreal and the real becomes unimportant at this moment.

Eventually, Andrew won the top spot, and by this time the time had already pointed to two o'clock in the morning, and the whole competition lasted for nearly five hours, and in a trance, it was the middle of the night when the devil danced wildly.

But the band continued to practice, and by the time they left the practice room, all the band members were in a trance, especially after the three drummers were exhausted, but ...... The game will take place at 5 p.m. today, and Fletcher has repeatedly stressed that everyone must give themselves at least two hours and never be late!

But that's what Murphy's Law is, and what you fear most often becomes a reality.

Andrew was not late, despite his mental malaise, he still caught the bus in time, but the flat tire of the bus was an unexpected situation, in a panic, Andrew had to get off the bus, but stopped in an unknown place, where he could not even find a taxi on the street, he had to choose to rent a car temporarily and rush to the race site.

Despite this, Andrew was still late.

Fletcher decided to hand over the chief position to Ryan Connery, which made Andrew's emotions explode completely, and the nerve that was tense to the extreme seemed to be about to collapse at any time, even in the face of Fletcher, Andrew directly hurried foul words, stood up, and fought for his rights:

This//is my chief position!