Culinary God in Wilderness

"I’ll think about it."

He didn’t act rashly and agree on the spot, instead choosing to tactfully sidestep the question for now.

As a chef, he was accustomed to always considering the worst-case scenario first.

The dangers of the tropical rainforest were simply too great. Given his current level of knowledge about flora and fauna, while he might not face a life-threatening challenge, the difficulty would be tantamount to a death wish.

’It’s true that I’ve mastered the knowledge, but if I don’t personally see the object in question, the related information usually isn’t triggered.’

’For example, with some uncommon plants, or ones you’d almost never encounter in daily life, if I don’t know the name or haven’t seen it, trying to recall it from thin air is impossible. My mind just draws a blank.’

’Only when I’m given at least a little information can I access my mental database and pull up the specific details about it.’

’It’s only the common things, the ones I already have a concept of, that aren’t so troublesome.’

’Of course, once I’ve been triggered by an unfamiliar item and learned about it, I can then recall it just by thinking of its appearance or name.’

This problem of the "unfamiliar" was what worried him now.

Since he was considering the worst-case scenario, he had to account for the possibility of being inexplicably cut by some unknown plant while walking through the rainforest.

Surrounded by a dense wall of plants—dozens, even hundreds of species in a single glance—he wouldn’t be able to process that much information in a short time. His brain’s protective mechanisms would surely filter out some of the "useless" information automatically.

The main issue was that his prize money hadn’t arrived yet, so he didn’t know if it would be enough.

If it was enough, there would be no need to take this risk.

After all, his initial decision to enter the competition had been made on a whim, egged on by his customers.

As an experienced host, Robert could naturally detect the evasiveness in his words.

’This won’t do. I just got off the phone and promised the higher-ups. If this cash cow doesn’t join next season, my bonus will go down the drain.’

"Lin, putting other factors aside, if you were to design the next season, what would you do?"

"Or, let’s say you were a viewer, what kind of Wild Survival would you most want to see?"

"If I were a viewer?"

Lin Chen folded his arms and stroked his chin, pondering for a moment. "If I have to say, I’d actually be more interested in seeing a more primitive survival process with very little gear—starting with just a knife and relying purely on the contestant’s own abilities."

"Tarps, fishing line, axes, and so on... to put it bluntly, they’re all items to ensure the contestants’ safety, but on another level, they also reduce the anticipation of survival crises and uncertainty."

"Of course, I also know that the difficulty of that kind of wilderness survival is immense. One slip-up and an accident could easily happen, especially in an extremely dangerous tropical rainforest."

"It would be a huge challenge not only for the production team but would also demand a high level of comprehensive ability from the contestants themselves. It wouldn’t be a situation where you could just pull in anyone to compete anymore."

"No gear, primitive wilderness survival?"

After hearing Lin Chen’s description, Robert’s eyes lit up.

"Yes, yes, that’s exactly what I was thinking! In fact, judging from viewer feedback, most of the people who watch our show have similar ideas."

"Our show might be called Wild Survival, but at its core, it’s still about wilderness survival."

"If we give them too many items at the start, it loses the meaning of ’survival’ and really just becomes ’living alone’ in the wild. The survival difficulty drops dramatically, and naturally, the show becomes less interesting to watch."

"But we have no choice. If someone dies or a contestant gets permanently disabled, the show is finished. We don’t have any better options."

"Sign a death waiver," Lin Chen said, giving him a strange look. "Ever been bungee jumping? Skydiving? Before you do those kinds of extreme sports, don’t you have to sign a waiver stating that any accident is not their responsibility?"

"It’s actually no different."

Robert shook his head and said helplessly, "That’s just how it is for us in the show business. Even if we have a waiver, if something really happened, the audience wouldn’t care about any agreement. All they’d know is that someone died on this show, and we’d be hit with an overwhelming wave of boycotts and negative reviews online."

"At that point, there would be no next season, and the entire staff would be unemployed."

"So that’s why you chose to bring in professional contestants as a gimmick for a bold new direction? I have to admit, it’s a good idea, but you can only use it a few times, and it has to be with different professions, or the audience will get bored of it quickly."

"Exactly. And based on this experiment, we’ve seen that most professions really aren’t a good fit for the wilderness element. There’s no common ground, and they just become a drag. You’re the sole exception."

"What about Connor?"

"Him? I guess he counts. After all, he somehow managed to tame a Coyote, which was a major highlight. But his ’profession’ isn’t really a formal one. He’s not a farmer or a rancher, but he dabbles in both. You could only call it a sort of social identity."

The two of them chatted casually on the second floor for about ten minutes, only going downstairs after the staff had finished moving everything from the storeroom out into the yard.

"Go on, you do the honors."

Lin Chen nodded. He took the Engineer Shovel and, with his own hands, began cutting and pulling away the paracord that secured the shelter to the surrounding wooden stakes.

They had already pulled down the waterproof tarp from the roof before coming downstairs. Although the shelter hadn’t collapsed yet, it was now a rickety, teetering structure.