“Yo~ yo~ I’m from the streets, got nothin’ in my pockets~ I’m hungry and poor, livin’ like a stray dog~

But even when lost, I ain't afraid of hardships~ When the belief is reached, the road ahead ain't gonna be blurred~

No matter where I am, I will be your compass~ Hip-hop is the church, and I~ am your god.

Yo~ yo~ Please keep fighting, I will help you through this tough life with rap~”

The above is a video the production team just received…

This video clip was also shot by Feng Bujue using the disassembled camera (as long as he turns it back on, the cruise ship can receive the signal from the device).

In the video, O’Bama, tied to a tree by vines, is looking at the camera with a terrified expression, doing an impromptu rap…

After the rap, the screen goes black again.

Inside the monitoring cabin, there is silence once more.

But seconds later, a flurry of discussion erupts…

“What is this about? Is O’Bama being coerced? Why… are they forcing him to rap…”

“Look! The big tree behind him is the same tree from Esther G’s video! He’s still there!”

“No wonder we couldn’t find him anywhere… so he’s been hiding near that area all along…”

“Wait… weren’t O’Bama and Stephen Carbon working together? How did he get tied up? Where’s Carbon?”

“Could there be someone else there?”

“Impossible, everyone else on the island is under surveillance.”

“Then… this video must have been taken by Stephen Carbon… did he actually attack his own partner…”

“God! This guy’s gone mad, did you see the injury on O’Bama’s forehead?”

“We have to stop him before he does something even worse…”

“Alright! Everyone quiet down!” As the crowd descends into chaos, a strong, resonant voice rings out, immediately taking control of the scene.

Dozens of people in the cabin turn their heads in unison, looking toward a man sitting in the corner…

He is a rather elderly man, with neat, short white hair and a salt-and-pepper beard, wearing a black casual shirt.

Although over sixty, he is still energetic and in good health, with an extraordinary demeanor. His eyes are deep and bright, and his distinct facial features (large forehead) make him unforgettable at first glance.

He is the general director of *Wilderness Poisoning*, and one of the greatest directors in this universe—James Francis Nasenloug.

“Let me sort out my thoughts…” After stabilizing the situation, Nasenloug immediately nodded and pondered, “This contestant, Mr. Stephen Carbon… first formed an alliance with O’Bama, agreeing to attack the other contestants together; then, they killed Esther G together, took our camera, and shot something like a threatening video… then, Stephen Carbon attacked O’Bama and reopened the camera, forcing the latter to do a rap in front of the camera…”

“Hmm…” Thinking of this, Nasenloug frowned and continued, “Mr. Carbon’s behavior is indeed a bit nonsensical. But objectively speaking, he is still in the competition, isn’t he?” He looked up, his gaze sweeping across everyone’s faces, “He neither violated the rules nor went against his own goals. Apart from those strange, crazy performances, what Stephen Carbon has done… is nothing more than eliminating two competitors in a way permitted by the rules.”

What he said made so much sense that everyone else in the ship was speechless.

After a long while, someone finally spoke, “So… you mean… we shouldn’t bother with him?”

Nasenloug did not answer his question, but instead placed his hand next to his right chin, supporting his cheek with two fingers, looking deep in thought.

Another silence descended, as everyone waited for the person in charge to give further instructions.

After a moment, Nasenloug finally spoke, “Get me Bell.”

The big boss is the big boss, even though the walkie-talkie is right on the table in front of him, he still needs someone to bring it to him…

However, no one objected to this… in less than a second, someone stepped forward and handed him the walkie-talkie.

Nasenloug reached out, took the walkie-talkie, and held it to his mouth, “Bell, this is James, respond if you hear me.”

As the general director, he has many privileges, one of which is… when communicating with the staff on the island, he doesn’t need to say code names like “Dolphin” or “Kangaroo X,” he can just say his name directly. Of course… in most cases, he will only communicate with Bell.

“Huff… This is Bell.” After about seven seconds, Hamlisch’s voice came from the walkie-talkie, “Sorry, it wasn’t convenient just now.”

“Ah, I see it.” Nasenloug had already moved his gaze to the surveillance screen where Hamlisch was, “A coyote attacked you.”

“Uh… actually, it’s a Florida Black Wolf (originally a mystical symbol worshiped by Native Americans, affected by white colonial invasions and religious persecution after the 19th century. In 1910, the wolf pack was at the end of its rope after repeated hunts; due to hunger, they began to attack livestock. In 1917, the last Florida Black Wolf died at the hands of humans. It is said to have been a cub, and no one has seen a Florida Black Wolf since).” Hamlisch replied, “There are no coyotes on this island, James, all the animals are…”

“Alright, alright… I know.” Nasenloug interrupted, “We chose the competition venue together, remember? I’ve seen the animal list there… and, to be honest, I don’t really care… what coyote, black wolf… it doesn’t make much of a difference to me.” He sighed, “Okay, let’s get down to business, I need you to find someone.”

“Now?” Hamlisch asked.

“Yes, the sooner the better.” Nasenloug said, “After you see him, in addition to letting him choose an ‘item’ to take away, give him one more thing…” When he said this, his eyes changed slightly, “Give him ‘that knife’ of yours.”

“What? My knife?” Hamlisch was clearly stunned when he heard this.

Nasenloug replied in a firm tone, “Yes, the one with the GPS tracking device in the handle…”

…………

At the same time, on Feng Bujue's side…

“Okay, done.” After finishing the “rap performance,” Jue-ge followed his usual practice (this “practice” was only invented by him thirty minutes ago) and shattered O’Bama’s kneecap, “Don’t worry, Brother Bama, someone will come to save you soon.”

At the moment the bone broke, O’Bama, who was tied to the tree, groaned in pain, his body contorting from the agony… After more than ten seconds, perhaps the effects of endorphins began to appear, O’Bama, in a mixture of pain and anger, regained his ability to speak and immediately burst into a torrent of abuse, “Oh! You despicable bastard! Stephen! You’ll get what’s coming to you!”

“I advise you not to shout, Brother Bama.” Feng Bujue replied calmly, “Although the rescue will be here soon, you still have to stay here alone for ten to twenty minutes before they arrive,” he said as he stood up, “During this time, the wisest choice is to sit still and not make a sound. Because moving around may worsen the injury, and yelling… might attract wild animals.” He shrugged and tilted his head, “Considering this factor, I advise you to keep that knife well, just in case.”

As soon as these words came out, O’Bama’s eyes changed instantly.

These subtle changes in expression naturally fell into Jue-ge's eyes, he smiled slightly, and continued, “That’s right, five seconds ago I noticed you were quietly reaching your right hand towards the back of your waist, so I stood up and kept a certain distance from you.” He shook his head, “You tried to distract me by shouting, and then take the opportunity to stab me, going for broke… Heh… too naive.”

While speaking, Jue-ge took two steps back, “Less than five minutes after allying with you, I discovered that you were secretly hiding a weapon… I just didn’t expose it.” He licked his lips, “Do you know the ‘leave one side open when encircling a city’ principle in *The Art of War*? That’s why… I didn’t handcuff you just now—I wanted to leave you with a glimmer of hope, to make you feel like you still had a chance to turn things around…” A grim smile appeared on his face, “Brother Bama, you are different from Esther G, you are not the kind of person who will easily give in, if I don’t leave any room for you, you will definitely fight me to the death. So… only by making you hold onto the illusion that ‘I still have a chance’ will you obediently cooperate with me and do a rap under my threat… Hahaha…”

“You son of a bitch! Bastard!” O’Bama was truly enraged this time, and burst out with some rather nasty curses.

“There’s no need to get angry, Mr. Former President.” Feng Bujue replied, “You are a politician, you should be used to betrayal. You also know very well… that in this environment, there is no right or wrong in what I do. You would do the same if necessary.” He laughed twice, “Heh… that being the case, why bother deceiving yourself and becoming so angry?”

Faced with Jue-ge’s twisted logic, O’Bama was indeed unable to refute it for a moment, and he even had the thought, “What this guy is saying seems to make sense…”

“Well then, Brother Bama, I won’t keep you company.” Feng Bujue had already retreated five meters at this time, bent down and picked up the camera on the ground, “You now have three choices, first, throw the knife behind your back at me, pray that you can hit me and cause me a lot of damage; second, after I leave, cut the vines, drag your broken leg to track me, and find a chance to stab me.” He carried the camera, took a breath, and said, “Anyway, I personally don’t recommend you choose these two…”

In fact, this suggestion was also a mockery… O’Bama wasn’t a fool, the result of these two choices would either be getting knocked unconscious by the other party or passing out from the pain himself.

“As for the third…” Feng Bujue said this as he had already turned around, “… accept your defeat with equanimity.” He smiled back (an evil smile), “Just like I calmly accept my ‘despicable’ nature.”