He lives on another planet and is majoring in Earth Science.

Chapter 463 Gangsters Arrive, Ordinary Black Guys Get Out of the Way (3000-word long chapter)
When Li Ji and his team entered the waiting hall, the other contestants all paid their respects.

The young Black man in a short-sleeved shirt was practicing his rapid-fire delivery, his movements fluid and his gestures stylish, exuding a star-like aura of self-assurance. But as soon as this group of people entered, he wilted like a deflated eggplant and sheepishly retreated to the side.

Wherever Lee Ki went, it was as if he had a halo around him; any black guys blocking his way would automatically back away.

A black guy wearing a red headscarf was chatting away with the girls about his gang life.

"I just killed three nigga yesterday, you know what an M3 is!"

"Wow, that's so cool! You've got me all excited." The girls surrounded him, their eyes sparkling.

A dark hand patted his shoulder: "Excuse me."

"Who the hell are you?"

The bandana guy suddenly turned around and saw four black men in red clothes, each with teardrop tattoos on their faces.

He immediately shrugged and hid to the side, remaining silent and behaving like a good student.

The girls rolled their eyes in disappointment and turned to stare at Li Ji.

"He's so cool. But he already has two girlfriends."

The girl smiled and said, "It's okay. We're mixed race. You have Dominican ancestry, and I have Jamaican ancestry. I believe that a real tough guy is happy to collect different girls."

After Li Ji walked away, the turban guy lowered his voice and said sullenly, "I could beat the shit out of him."

The girls rolled their eyes: "Then go ahead."

The bandana guy rubbed his hands together: "Na~ I still have a competition to go on, I don't want to see blood."

"Load the goods." The girls rolled their eyes and left.

There was a lot of discussion at the table, but because everyone spoke with heavy Black accents and street slang, Lee Ki couldn't understand what they were saying at first.

It is necessary to include the new generation of Black English in our corpus; otherwise, with the existing corpus, we won't be able to communicate with Black people even if we go to Earth.

Li Ji then realized the true value of the statement, "The black guys don't speak the same language."

Sitting at the front of the waiting area were three rune warriors, their hands covered in even darker tattoos.

The typical Chicago street style outfit: a mask covering only the face, a black down vest over a short-sleeved shirt, a crossbody bag slung across the chest like a ticket seller, and oversized black pants pulled down to the thighs, revealing plaid shorts.

No one dared to sit in the seats next to them or in the rows behind them.

In everyone's eyes, these are ruthless gangsters who are not to be trifled with.

Li Ji and his three companions swaggered over and sat down next to them.

The three men gave them a fierce look, like lions warning enemies who had entered their territory.

Shark pointed to the exposed half of the other person's underwear: "Your pants are falling down!"

Beneath the black mask, his white eyes stared wide open.

The candidates in the venue were in an uproar, and everyone quickly moved to the back of the line, afraid of being affected.

"They've declared war. A war is definitely going to break out."

Guess which side will win?

“I bet on the Chicago boys, they have three big guys.”

“I’m from the Blood Gambler’s Gang. I saw he had a gun on his waist.”

Li Ji listened to the commotion behind him and was momentarily confused.

Suddenly, I felt a shadow appear in front of me.

Three rune warriors came up to them, glaring at them fiercely, their white eyes practically popping out of their sockets.

Sha Bao couldn't resist any longer and reached out to help the other person pull up their pants.

The whole place was in an uproar.

The Chicago boy yelled, "Fuck!"

Li Ji's body trembled, and his three eyes were fixed on the hands of the three men, as if afraid they would pull out weapons.

Everyone hid in a corner, afraid that the bullets would miss and hit them.

Under everyone's watchful eyes, the Chicago boys trio walked to the back row and took their seats.

"That's it?"

The entire audience erupted in uproar once again.

That's when everyone realized that these three guys were just pretending to be gangsters; in reality, they were just ordinary thugs like everyone else.

Even among Black men in the United States, there exists a serious hierarchy of contempt.

The highest level, of course, consists of organized gang members, belonging to the elite Black gang.

These people live on the edge, doing jobs that could cost them their lives. Every day could be their last, which is why they have become role models that everyone admires.

They're like gangsters in China, except in the pure American liberal values, these people are street idols, role models for young people. Everyone wants to be a gangster, to be gangsters on the street every day, that's incredibly cool.

Other gangsters who couldn't join the gang would cosplay as gangsters, dressing and acting like them, and speaking slang all the time.

But they don't commit crimes; at most, they do some zero-dollar purchases to supplement their household income.

When you're out and about, you give yourself your identity. When you're trying to impress or pick up girls, you should always say you're a member of a gang, preferably with the names of a few gangs, and fabricate stories of murder and arson. Girls will be completely captivated by you.

Even many rappers join gangs when they are already somewhat famous, just to gain fans by using the gang persona.

Bonnie is right. If you can make a gangster gesture, everyone will want to do it with you. The premise is that you can maintain your persona.

How to maintain a persona?

Those who rely solely on bravado and feigned toughness, and don't show any fear, are the real gangsters.

The candidates in the arena immediately realized that these Chicago lads were just like them, only the most pretentious.

Those four men in red were clearly a real bandit gang.

It's not just the tattoos; the key is that arrogant and fearless demeanor.

That woman with a head full of red dreadlocks looked at everyone like they were trash. Even a stripper in a gang wouldn't have that kind of confidence. Only a female boss who fights in the streets could have that kind of aura.

That kid was even more outrageous. Facing three burly men who looked like gangsters, he calmly and collectedly destroyed their clothes, achieving a strong sense of humiliation. This confidence, composure, and ruthlessness must have been cultivated from street fighting since childhood.

The previously quiet Chicago boys suddenly became talkative once they reached the back row, immediately joining the discussion. Ultimately, it was a music talent show, so everyone returned to discussing the music itself.

The bandana guy brazenly said, "Maybe they're more ruthless, but when it comes to music, it's not necessarily the same. My songs are worth a thousand thousand dollars."

Many people agree with this kind of spiritual victory method. Street life is just a source of material, and ultimately it has to return to the musicality itself. No matter how ruthless they are, they can't put a gun to the judges' heads.

The two girls who had just spoken retorted sarcastically, "Now it's all about commercial value. The gangster persona is incredibly valuable. And that doesn't mean they can't make music."

After saying that, the girl tightened her bikini to further enhance her commercial value.

Dailu asked Li Ji with a blank look, "What's rap, meow?"

"It's about speaking rhythmically."

"You've prepared a song, meow?"

"Completely unprepared."

Lee Ki had heard some before, but the judges must have heard those English songs. They couldn't just copy the Chinese rap lyrics, could they? It would be too weird for a black guy to rap in Chinese.

Moreover, rapping isn't like reciting poetry; matching the accompaniment requires a lot of skill.

Chinese people and Black people have a different sense of rhythm by nature.

Without conscious practice, it's easy to sing it like a rat-shaped folk song, which is due to an innate sense of rhythm.

A director cautiously approached and whispered, "Bro, I need to do some preliminary information gathering."

Lee Ki generously extended his hand.

"Okay, give me the information form, I'll fill it out myself."

The other party frowned in confusion: "Sorry, we don't have information forms. We collect information verbally."

"Wouldn't that be very tiring?"

"Yes, to some extent, but we have requirements: contestants who are fully literate will not be accepted. Wait a minute, are you literate?"

Li Ji never imagined he would participate in such a bizarre competition in his lifetime.

He quickly shook his head: "I don't know him at all."

How do you spell "red"?

“R—” Lee Ki blurted out subconsciously, then quickly corrected himself, “—rpg”.

The director frowned: "Are you sure?"

"determine."

Dailu, who hadn't heard the whole story clearly, quickly corrected her, "What do you mean 'definitely'? It's 'red'! How come you don't even know such a simple word?"

Li Ji looked at the arrogant Dai Lulu without saying a word, and even felt a little like laughing.

The director said apologetically to Dailulu, "I'm sorry, sister, you've been eliminated. Your level of education is too high."

"What meow?"

Delulu folded her ears into airplane shapes and started breathing on them.

"Is it wrong to be highly educated, meow?"

"I'm sorry, we're looking for street stars, and you're beyond our understanding of what a street star is."

Two burly men, each two meters tall and 1.7 meters wide, walked over. They were wearing bulletproof vests and helmets.

"What are you doing, meow?"

The director hid behind two security guards before daring to speak: "Please leave now."

"I'm a member of the Blood Gang, meow!"

The director was startled. The other party looked like a member of the Blood Gang, and now they were shouting so openly. Everyone understood the implication: it was a threat.

The other party might pull out a gun. Rather than leaving the trouble to myself, I'd rather leave it to the judge/boss. A few thousand dollars a month, why risk my life?

He hid behind the security guard and said, "Sorry, you can stay then. Please calm down."

Delulu's airplane ears instantly relaxed, revealing a W-shaped smile: "I'm calm now, meow."

"Your attitude changes way too fast!"

Information gathering continued, and the director asked Li Ji a few very simple questions.

What is your educational background?

Li Ji deliberately feigned madness and asked, "What is academic qualification?"

"Perfect. Where did you come from?"

“From home.”

"Perfect. Why do you make music?"

"Fun."

“That’s great. You qualify for our competition.”

"Is it that simple?"

"It's that simple."

The director then asked Dai Lulu.

She was ready; all she had to do was act crazy and silly like Lee Ki to win Miao over.

What is your educational background?

What is a degree, meow?

The director cautiously said, "Please be honest. You know how to spell 'red,' which is more than 4.1% of Americans. You must be educated."

"You can do that, meow?" Delulu's eyes darted around as she pondered what kind of academic qualification would be appropriate.

"High school cat".

She was certain that this was a very low level of education; in her view, someone who hadn't finished high school was no different from an illiterate person.

(End of this chapter)