Chapter 1 The Ghostly Postman's Return

Feng Bujue had no idea when or how the Ghostly Postman would reply to him. He wasn't even sure if the other party *would* reply.

Regarding this matter, none of the "fatso" NPCs could answer, so Brother Jue could only play it by ear...

"So… now it's time to deliver the tenth letter…" After leaving the mailbox in the graveyard, Feng Bujue returned to his bicycle and muttered, "Or should I replenish my stamina first…"

As he mounted the bicycle, he re-examined the game menu. Right now, his Survival Value had slowly recovered to 54%, but his Stamina Value was only 4524800.

This was the difficulty created by "calculating Stamina Value based on the character's actual physical sensation." Brother Jue had encountered similar settings in some Nightmare Difficulty scripts before; *Wilderness Poisoning* was a good example.

No matter how high a player's level was, how many items or skills they had to increase their Stamina Value… in this kind of Nightmare Difficulty script, the character had that much stamina, and that was it. If you overused it without regard for conservation, the consequences would be self-evident.

"Hmm… I should still find a way to get some supplies first…" After a moment's thought, Feng Bujue made a decision. "Before Ghostly Postman replies to me, it's extremely difficult to crack the 'command code' on my own. Anyway, the information collected from those 'recipients' is already sufficient, so there's no need to waste my last bit of stamina on something that yields almost no results."

Having decided on his next plan, he took out the town's mini-map from his pocket. After looking at it for a few seconds, he set off…

At exactly twelve noon, Feng Bujue arrived at the only bar in town.

The bar was called "Otaku," and its floor area was just over a hundred square meters, not even as big as the post office.

Brother Jue came here for a simple reason: according to the illustration on the mini-map, this Western-style bar had a door that couldn't be closed… or rather, two movable planks of wood.

"Hmph… this time I shouldn't be unable to enter, right?" Feng Bujue smiled as he pushed open the door and walked into the Otaku Bar.

"We're not open yet, sir." That was the sentence that greeted Brother Jue.

Feng Bujue looked up at the speaker.

It was a bald man about two meters tall, around forty years old, dressed as a bartender. When Brother Jue entered, he was standing behind the bar, quietly wiping a glass.

"I won't stay long." Feng Bujue ignored the other party's dissuasion and walked straight to the bar.

In the process, he had scanned the entire environment of the bar: cheap linen-colored wallpaper, cheap wooden floors, a cheap bar, cheap tables and chairs, a cheap sofa, a cheap pool table… beside the pool table, there was also a mustachioed man dressed as a cowboy, playing pool by himself.

"I'm sorry, it's not a matter of how long you stay." Seeing Brother Jue sit down as if nothing had happened, the bald bartender's expression changed slightly. "We don't accept any customers outside of business hours. Please come back after five in the evening…"

"Alright, Yang, just let him sit for a while." Suddenly, the mustachioed cowboy by the pool table interrupted, "This gentleman doesn't look like he'll cause trouble…" As he spoke, he made a shot, and then straightened up, looking at Brother Jue. "Am I right? Sir."

"Heh… of course." Feng Bujue smiled at the mustachioed man, then turned his head, looked at the bartender, and said, "Could I get something to drink? Water will do."

The bald bartender looked at Brother Jue blankly for two seconds, then took out a clean glass and poured him a glass of cool water.

"Excuse me… is there anything to eat? Anything at all." Feng Bujue added.

This time, the bald bartender cast a suspicious glance at him: "Are you sure you have enough money to pay? Sir." As he said this, he deliberately emphasized the word "sir" at the end.

"I do…" Feng Bujue only wanted to eat and drink now, so his attitude was very polite. As he spoke, he reached for his wallet. "If you need it, I can…"

"Oh~ no, no, young man, don't do that." At this moment, the mustachioed man loudly stopped Brother Jue's actions and quickly walked over.

Arriving at the bar, the mustachioed man looked at the bartender and said, "Yang, how can you talk to a guest like that? Do you think this gentleman doesn't even have enough money to buy a glass of water?"

"No, boss," the bald bartender replied. "I'm just worried that he's like those drunks and homeless people, coming in to freeload when they're penniless."

"Oh… this cowboy uncle is indeed the boss…" Feng Bujue thought to himself. In fact, he had vaguely realized this from the beginning of the conversation between the two, and now that "Yang" directly called out "boss," it confirmed his guess.

"Ah~ Yang, you're overthinking it." The mustachioed man patted Brother Jue on the shoulder. "Looking at this gentleman's complexion and attire, you can tell he's not that kind of person." He snapped his fingers and winked at Yang, "Come on, get me some snacks. I'm hungry too."

"Okay… since you've said so…" The bald bartender shrugged and replied.

A few seconds later, he took out two small bamboo bowls lined with paper towels from behind the bar. Both bowls were filled with fried snacks.

"Thanks, buddy." Feng Bujue said to Yang, then looked at the mustachioed man. "Thank you too, boss."

With that, Brother Jue grabbed a large handful of snacks and stuffed them into his mouth like a duck being force-fed.

He was indeed hungry, and very hungry… this kind of hunger was undoubtedly simulated by the script, similar to muscle fatigue, and had to be alleviated in some way, otherwise it would not disappear on its own.

"Hehehe…" The mustachioed man laughed as he watched Brother Jue's eating habits. "Young man, you can't treat this as a meal."

"I know, but all the restaurants in town are closed." Feng Bujue replied vaguely, with his cheeks puffed out.

This seemingly casual answer was actually a probe… Brother Jue had been in town for so long, and he had finally met two NPCs who seemed relatively normal. He didn't want to miss the opportunity to extract information. Therefore, he calmly stated an unusual, but objective, fact to see the reaction of these two NPCs.

"Hahahaha…" Who knew that the mustachioed man would laugh heartily and reply, "You're joking, young man… how could the stores be closed in broad daylight, especially on Christmas Day? Look…" He raised his hand and pointed towards the entrance of the bar, "Isn't that restaurant across the street open?"

"Across the street?" Feng Bujue was stunned. He looked in the direction the other party was pointing, and could only see a vast expanse of white mist… not to mention the scenery across the street, he couldn't even see clearly a few meters outside the door.

"Heh… hehe…" Brother Jue gave a dry laugh. "You're right…" He couldn't figure out whether this NPC was telling the truth or calling a deer a horse, but he didn't want to argue with the other party anyway.

"Oh, right, I haven't introduced myself yet…" The mustachioed man didn't continue on the topic of the restaurant. He took off his cowboy hat, extended his hand to Brother Jue, and said, "I'm the boss here, they call me 'Shooter'."

"Hello," Feng Bujue responded politely. "I'm Dave." He wiped his palm on his jacket before shaking hands with the other party.

"This is my bartender, Yang." Then, Uncle Shooter gestured towards the bald bartender. "Legend has it that he used to be in the mafia, but he later retired from the martial world…"

"Hey!" Yang immediately shouted, interrupting his boss.

Uncle Shooter spread his hands and smiled. "Hehehe… alright, he's a righteous person, I didn't say anything."

"Hello, Yang." Feng Bujue also pretended not to have heard anything, and greeted Yang calmly.

But Yang only nodded to him, his expression still serious and cold.

"What kind of characters are these two…" Feng Bujue finished off a bowl of snacks in a minute and began to tackle the second bowl. "One is overly enthusiastic, and the other is overly indifferent. And looking at their styling, listening to their names… if 'Shooter' can even be considered a name… both of them have the air of gang members…" A thought struck him. "Could it be… there's some kind of side quest here?"