Life in North America, you call this an autopsy officer?!

Another kick sent the young man flying four or five meters away, crashing heavily against the outer wall of the cabin, sticking to it as if glued, pausing for a little over a second before slowly sliding off.

This all seemed complicated but actually happened in less than a second.

To outsiders, Brian seemed to have activated a speed hack. With every move of his arms and legs, only afterimages remained, too fast for the naked eye to catch the actual movements.

Looking at the young man who couldn’t get up from the ground, Brian was somewhat speechless, "In my past life, I fought against Japan every day in front of the computer, and now in this life, I’m clashing with you guys again, huh? I just took care of a batch of you bastards yesterday, and today it’s you guys again?"

He pulled out a fruit knife, "I’m in a hurry, so tell me your identity now, your origins, why you’re bothering us, and I’ll give you a quick death. Otherwise, I’ll skin you and draw your tendons, and then pickle you in salt, dry you up, and once dried, keep adding salt..."

Before he could finish, the convulsing young man on the ground oozed black blood from the corner of his mouth and stopped breathing.

Brian frowned and sniffed, knowing the man must have hidden a cyanide poison pack in his teeth or somewhere and bit down to commit suicide.

"Good thing I still have two more captives..."

Brian learned his lesson and first checked the mouth of the man who initially climbed onto their cruise ship, successfully removing a poisonous implanted tooth.

Another short man, middle-aged, who had been thrown back into the water by him, didn’t escape either.