Jungle Corp – CEO on Death Island

Chapter 3

 

Zane glared at the Amazonian woman in front of him. The CEO's rational brain suddenly short-circuited. For his entire life, elite women in New York had lined up and used subtle manipulative tactics to get close to him. But this barbarian woman? She kicked the door down, threw a panther carcass, and directly demanded marriage.

"Husband?" Zane repeated. He took a step back, maintaining a safe distance. "Hold on a second, Miss..."

"Xara!" the woman cut in loudly.

"Okay, Xara. Listen, we just met ten seconds ago. In my world, a partnership—let alone a marriage—requires a due diligence process. A courtship. A two-way agreement." Zane raised both his hands, activating high-level negotiation mode. "Your offer is interesting, but my schedule is extremely tight. I have to manage your village's operational system tomorrow morning. If I become your husband, that's called a conflict of interest. My time will be taken up, and the village's operations could fall apart."

Xara tilted her head. The woman's forehead creased hard. Zane's complex vocabulary clearly made her brain, which was usually used for hunting, suddenly cramp up.

However, instead of backing down, Xara's facial expression turned flat. She stepped out of the hut, walking casually toward a mahogany support pillar holding up the hut's porch roof.

Zane frowned in confusion. "What are you doing?"

Without any warning, Xara twisted her hips and unleashed a straight kick right at the mahogany pillar.

CRASH!

The solid wooden pillar the size of an adult's thigh snapped in two exactly like a crispy cracker. That side of the hut's roof immediately caved in, sending dust flying into the air.

Zane's eyes bulged. His jaw almost dropped to the ground.

Xara turned around, dusted off her feet, then stared at Zane with a deadly sweet smile.

"You said you're too busy taking care of the village to have time for me, right?" Xara said casually, pointing at the remains of the destroyed pillar. "If you reject my proposal again using the excuse of being busy, I will snap the necks of the people making you busy one by one like this pillar. How about it? Still busy, my Husband?"

Cold sweat poured down Zane's temples rapidly. At the same time, he saw Grok—the Cannibal Commander whose body was as big as a bear—peeking from behind a tree. Instead of helping Zane, Grok was trembling in fear while giving a panicked head shake signal. As if saying: Don't seek death, Boss! Just do what the Monster wants!

Instantly, Zane realized one brutal fact. On this island, Xara's authority sat at the top of the food chain.

Zane's business instincts kicked back in. This was a Hostile Takeover with his life on the line. The drawback: he loses his freedom. The benefit: god-tier VVIP protection. If he officially became Xara's husband, there wouldn't be a single creature on this island that would dare touch him. In business, if your enemy is too strong, you have to merge with them.

Zane cleared his throat, straightened his torn suit collar, then extended his right hand toward Xara.

"Alright. The merger offer is accepted," Zane said, putting on his most convincing business smile. "Starting today, I am your husband. But on one condition: the operational management of the tribe remains fully under my control."

Xara didn't understand what a merger or operations meant. All she heard was the word 'accepted'.

A wide smile bloomed on the wild woman's face. Without accepting Zane's handshake, Xara lunged forward and hugged Zane's body tightly. Her hands patted the CEO's back with brutal force.

Thump! Thump!

"Cough!" Zane coughed hard. His ribs felt like they were going to fall apart, hit by excavator-like force disguised as an affectionate hug.

"A smart decision, my Husband!" Xara's laugh echoed loudly. "Tonight you sleep in my hut. No refusals!"

The next morning, the sun shone scorchingly through the leaves.

Zane stood in the middle of the village square with a disheveled face and dark bags under his eyes. He barely slept all night because Xara snored louder than a chainsaw, plus the woman's heavy arm had locked down his stomach like a circus seatbelt.

In front of him, all the adult men of the cannibal tribe were already sitting in a circle. Grok and a skinny old man wearing an eagle skull hat sat in the front row.

"Listen closely!" Zane began, his voice loud and firm. He struck a flat rock with a long branch like a CEO in a boardroom. "Your village's operational system is incredibly rotten! You only eat when you're lucky, and starve when the hunt is scarce. This is inefficiency! Starting this second, I'm taking over all management!"

The tribe members whispered to each other, but no one dared to interrupt. Zane's status was now not just 'Envoy of the Gods', but also the lawful husband of Xara.

Zane pointed at Grok. "You, and all your hunting troops. Starting today, I'm naming your division the Acquisition Department. Your job isn't to run around chasing wild boars in broad daylight until you're out of breath. That's a waste of energy!"

"Then how are we supposed to catch the meat, Mr. Boss?" Grok asked in confusion.

"Use your brains!" Zane snapped. "Use traps! Dig a large pit, set snares from roots, herd the animals using fire. We catch them alive to breed them, not just kill them and let them rot! Got it?!"

Grok immediately gave a stiff nod.

Zane shifted to point at the old man with the skull hat. "And you! Old shaman! What's your name?!"

"I-I'm Xylok, Mr. Boss," the shaman answered nervously.

"Starting now, I'm changing your title to HR Manager!" Zane asserted. "Your job is easy. Hold this branch. Every time someone finishes working, you make a line in the dirt. Who brings firewood, who forages for wild fruits, record everything. You're the one managing the distribution of food rations!"

A plump barbarian youth in the back row raised his hand. "Why go through the trouble, Mr. Boss? There's still plenty of leftover roast boar from last night. We just want to sleep today."

Zane's eyes sharpened. The disease of laziness was his greatest enemy.

"Listen closely," Zane took a slow step, radiating a ruthless intimidating aura. "Under my leadership, we are using the KPI system. Key Performance Indicator. There is only one rule: No work, no dinner!"

The youth gulped. "But... that boar was our catch from yesterday."

Zane smiled cynically. "Go ahead and eat that boar meat. But eat it completely raw or boil it in bland water like usual. If you're lazy, I refuse to mix the ginger marinade, crush the chilies, or roast it until the skin is crispy. Which one do you choose?!"

That threat landed an incredibly heavy blow. Hearing the words 'boil it in bland water', all the tribe members instantly panicked. Grok even stood straight up and kicked the plump youth's ass until he fell over.

"Work, idiot! Do you want us to eat bland boiled meat again?!" Grok raged. "Go find firewood!"

In a matter of seconds, the square was empty. Everyone suddenly became extraordinarily diligent for the sake of the ginger-marinated barbecue rations. Zane breathed a sigh of relief and sat back down. His corporate system was starting to run smoothly.

However, Zane's peace only lasted until noon.

A loud commotion could be heard from the direction of the village gates. Grok's hunting troops had returned from the forest. But they weren't bringing wild boars or deer. Four warriors were carrying a makeshift wooden stretcher on their shoulders.

On that stretcher, there was a human.

A young white woman who was thrashing about and screaming hysterically. Her clothes consisted of a renowned designer white dress that was already torn and covered in mud.

"Let me go! Do you know who I am?! My father will put all of you in jail!" the woman screamed while crying.

Grok ran toward Zane with a face beaming with pride. "Mr. Boss! Look at our catch! White meat from across the sea! The skin is smooth, there are no muscles at all. It will definitely be very tender!"

Zane stood up slowly. His eyes narrowed, staring at the woman on the stretcher. His heart beat a little faster when he recognized that dirty face.

It was Avery Prescott. The only daughter of his biggest rival conglomerate in New York.

"Mr. Boss, what spices do you want to use to cook this woman?" Grok asked enthusiastically, raising his rusty machete.

Before Zane had a chance to respond or formulate a plan to monopolize this living asset, a terrifying pressure emerged from behind him.

"You want to eat this skinny meat?!"

Xara's voice boomed. The barbarian woman stepped forward, parting the crowd. Her jaw tightened, her eyes glaring at Avery with a flash of jealousy ready to burn down the entire village. Her right hand gripped a wooden spear tightly.

"Or perhaps... you brought her here alive because my Husband requested her?!" Xara hissed, pointing the tip of her spear right at Avery's neck.