The man wearing the golden crying-face mask was clearly not one to be trifled with.

He had already picked up on the subtle clues in the host's words, and thus used the precondition "us at this moment" in his question.

In fact, many had yet to notice... there was also a precondition in the host's words, which was "those who have already become my possessions"; that is, before you become his "thing," he would still treat you as a human being; and to a "human being," he would naturally keep his promises.

However, once you chose to accept the host's "protection," or rather... "enslavement," then you had to be prepared accordingly.

The so-called "losing all rights as a human being" was not just empty talk.

Making you kill someone was still considered good...

He could not only "make you" do anything, but if you didn't, he could also "do anything to you."

No one would come to save you, just as no one would save something that belonged to someone else.

"Isn't asking about killing people kind of boring? Your imagination is too lacking." Two seconds later, Feng Bujue spoke again, raising his voice towards the host on the second floor, "I'll just ask... if you're willing, could you turn us into human centipedes? Or make us film heavy-flavored movies with other species, or kill us and sell our organs?"

Before he could finish speaking, the crowd in the venue was in an uproar.

Although Feng Bujue's tone was very relaxed when he said this, he still managed to cause a small panic.

"Heh..." The host smiled again. In just a few minutes of brief contact, he had already strongly felt... that the man wearing the raven mask was a person similar to himself—a madman.

"Yes." After a few seconds, the host responded to Jue Ge's question in a calm tone, clearly enunciating each word.

This time, the crowd below completely exploded, with whispers turning into a clamor.

"How I want to use these 'things' is my freedom." But the host then added, "However... I can assure you that the examples this gentleman mentioned... have never happened so far." He paused, "In fact, I haven't let anyone who failed in this game kill anyone."

The host spread out his hands and said in a frank tone, "If I want someone to die, I'll hire a professional to handle it. I have no reason to find someone with no experience or related skills to do such a thing." As he spoke, he slowly turned his face, making a gesture of looking around the audience, and continued, "Everyone... has something they're good at; without a doubt, all of you here have considerable outstanding talents in a certain field, and what I want is nothing more than your 'talents'."

He was lying.

Not everyone could see through it, but some people did...

Feng Bujue understood very well that the host's words were half-true and half-false, and his core intention... to put it bluntly, was to appease and fool this group of people, lest no one choose to accept his "protection" later.

"Of course, I won't be too polite either." The host was a person who deeply understood the changes in people's hearts and had extremely strong language skills. After some comforting words, he added a relatively cold segment, "If you think that after accepting my 'protection,' you can still get a salary and vacation or something... then you're thinking too much; what awaits you... will only be endless work and basic living security, and there will be no way to escape until you 'pay off what you owe me'."

"What you owe..." At this time, the short, fat man wearing a Peking opera mask asked again, "... refers to the money you used when you accepted your protection?"

"Hehe... this gentleman understands very quickly." The host replied with a smile, "In this world, more than 90% of things can be solved with money. So... debts or crimes, no matter what you've done outside, as long as you're willing to accept my 'protection,' I can use money to solve them for you. From that moment on, all your debt relationships will be transferred to me alone." At this point, he began further enticement, "And I, as the creditor... am also reasonable; if you successfully pay off what you owe me in a few years, you can regain your freedom... heh... of course, the specific number of years depends on the amount of your debt and the efficiency of your 'labor value' output."

"Hmph... is it equivalent to being in a labor camp here?" In the crowd, a man wearing a white opera mask snorted in response.

"Hmph... labor camp?" The host also responded with a disdainful snort, "Can a labor camp free you from your current predicament?" He retorted, "I said—'what I want is your talents.' I will let you shine in 'positions suitable for you,' instead of letting you do some simple labor that anyone can do. If I wanted to find a group of people suitable for working in sweatshops, I would open another game and draft another guest list." He smiled, "Heh... there are people everywhere who owe hundreds of thousands in gambling debts and know that they can't pay them off in their lifetime with their own abilities..."

The host's remarks were like sugar and a whip. He gave the people below a little sense of superiority, but also a sense of reality, and most importantly... he gave them "hope."

This group of people was already the type who were desperate and betting everything.

Under such inducement, they would easily tend to be "lucky."

That's right, accepting the host's "protection" was terrible; but... what about going back ashore?

Back ashore, they would face huge debts or imprisonment, or even both.

Living in the shadow of debt day after day, or spending long years behind bars, and becoming marginalized people who were difficult to integrate into society after being released...

Dragging down their families, being abandoned, discriminated against, and having no more opportunities in life...

As a group of people who once occupied certain social resources, they knew more about the operation of this world than those who had never stood at a high place. They had seen more darkness and understood more about so-called human nature...

They knew that falling was not terrible... what was terrible was losing the opportunity to climb up again. In this world, "opportunities" were always in the hands of a few people, and most people just muddled along, and even if they saw a ray of light from a high place, they would be easily snatched away by those who already occupied more resources.

Therefore, they also knew very well that leaving this ship... was equivalent to giving up the last "opportunity."

Compared to "clearly visible despair," perhaps the "vague abyss" provided by the host was more attractive to them.

…………

"I can do it."

"I've been through so many storms, this is nothing."

"It's just working day and night, like a high-interest loan secured by labor..."

"Anyway, it's better than me going out to do menial work and being harassed by debt collectors every day."

"If I grit my teeth, I can pay it off in ten years... no, five years, and then I can go back outside and make a comeback."

"Besides..."

"Besides..."

"Besides..."

"I... won't necessarily lose!"

"Yes, as long as I win..."

"If I win, I can not only pay off my debts, but also have a surplus."

"There are eight places."

"How could someone as excellent as me not even make it into the top eight?"

…………

During the host's speech, the guests were also struggling in their hearts, weighing the pros and cons of the two choices...

And under the double fluke and illusion of "I can win" and "accepting protection is also a way to turn things around," most people leaned towards the second choice.

"Okay... I think you all understand the two ways out after failure." The host didn't let them think for too long. He opened his mouth and said, "I don't want to waste any more time answering various specific 'things' one by one..."

As he said this, he deliberately glanced at Feng Bujue. Even wearing a mask, Jue Ge noticed the gaze and responded with a sneer.

"In short, the choice is in your hands. I won't force you to accept my 'protection.' If you want to get off the ship after failing, please feel free." The host shrugged, "But... before I announce the rules of the game, you must first make a choice."

Before he could finish speaking, several entrances on the first floor were opened one after another, and some men in suits and sunglasses pushed trolleys out, expressionlessly.

The things on those trolleys were the same—pens, contracts, and cash.

"Everyone, I'm only going to say the following once, so please listen carefully." As the host said this, the men in suits had skillfully pushed the trolleys to several designated positions and stood still, "Today, we're going to play more than one game, and each one requires the use of 'chips,' and these chips will be 'borrowed' to you by me."

At this time, the crowd's attention had basically been drawn to the small "mountains of money" around them. The trolleys were filled with US dollars. Judging by the looks of it, each trolley was stacked with more than five million US dollars in banknotes (in the universe Feng Bujue was in, the evil American empire had eliminated 100 and 50 dollar bills many years ago in order to reduce crime rates to some extent and clear obstacles to the implementation of negative interest rate policies, so all the trolleys were filled with 20 dollar bills).

"Each guest can borrow money from the staff, and the loan amount is limited to two to ten thousand US dollars." The host's explanation continued, "Please don't borrow in units less than 'ten thousand,' as that will take too much time. After the loan is completed, the amount you receive will be used in the games that follow... of course, this money must be returned." He paused consciously for two seconds, "The winners of the game, needless to say, this little money is nothing to you, and you can return it later; and among the losers... those who choose to accept my 'protection' don't need to care about this, and the part you can't pay will be included in the 'money you owe me'; however, those who choose to leave the ship after failing... you better be prepared, I don't buy the 'too many debts, no worries' line. Once you leave my ship, you are no longer my 'guests'; at that time, I will only give you one month to pay back the money. After one month, I will use a method more effective than any high-interest loan you know to make you pay off the debt."

Many people in the venue actually knew about the "method" he was talking about...

Aside from the elements of gender and appearance, every healthy adult can at least be squeezed out of about 500,000 (RMB) worth of value.

According to the exchange rate (in this universe, in the current era), it was almost exactly 100,000 US dollars.

Of course... the result of this kind of "squeezing" usually meant death.

"I have prepared two types of loan contracts, one for 'those who get off the ship after failing the game' and the other for 'those who accept protection after failing the game.' Please consider which one to sign and... how much to fill in." As the host spoke, he waved his hand, signaling the men in suits holding the glass cabinets to leave, "You have fifteen minutes to decide, and then use the contract to exchange for cash." After saying this, his tone changed slightly and he added, "Oh, right. Please don't sign any messy names on the contract and try to muddle through, because you need to hand in the 'magnetic card' of your room when borrowing money. Your identity will not be confused... Behaviors such as random signing are just humiliating yourself."

After speaking, the host paused for another second and took half a step back, saying very politely, "Well... everyone, excuse me for leaving for a while."

…………

After the host left the main hall, a suppressed silence descended.

Those small groups who had been chatting happily and seemed to have met each other late were now silent.

Everyone was struggling and calculating their own accounts.

No one went to discuss with others... because here, no one would truly trust anyone.

Rustle—

At this quiet moment, suddenly, the sound of flipping papers came from somewhere.

In an instant, people's eyes were naturally attracted to this sound.

And when they turned their heads to look, Feng Bujue had already picked up a pen, filled in the amount of 100000 on the contract, and signed the name "Jiang Daode" cleanly.

"Take the money." After signing, Jue Ge handed the contract and his magnetic card to several men in suits and said these two words concisely.

In order to prevent anyone from muddling through, three men in suits stood next to each trolley.

"Uh..." After a collective daze for three or four seconds, one of the men in suits finally reacted and took Feng Bujue's contract and magnetic card.

He glanced at the amount and signature on the contract and then read, "Ten... ten thousand..."

Then, he turned to look at his colleague next to him and nodded.

The other man in a suit also responded with a nod, and then picked up a sealable plastic bag and started filling it with money.