In the next ten minutes, Feng Bujue ate five bowls of snacks and drank eight glasses of water using a whiskey glass.

When he reopened the game menu, the feelings of hunger and thirst had completely disappeared, and his stamina had recovered to 19024800. Even his survival value had slightly increased, reaching over 70%.

It seemed that in this scenario, the "recovery" and "decay" rates of various stats were the same, all based on the character's actual physical sensation. In short… what's lost quickly is also regained quickly.

In addition, while chewing his food, Jue-Ge didn't forget to take advantage of this time to communicate with the NPCs.

Although his speech was a bit slurred, the two NPCs had excellent hearing and could fully understand Jue-Ge's meaning.

Therefore, he got close to these two people very smoothly.

"Okay... we've talked a lot about me." After finishing his replenishment, Feng Bujue drank another glass of water, rinsed his mouth, and then changed the topic. "How about... we talk about you two..."

As soon as these words came out, the expressions on the shooter's and Yang's faces immediately changed.

But Jue-Ge ignored it. He didn't give them time to think and quickly asked, "How long have you two been in this town?"

*Kacha—Kacha—*

One and a half seconds later, the muzzles of two guns were aimed at Feng Bujue's temple and forehead, respectively.

In that one and a half seconds, Yang took out a shotgun from under the bar with lightning speed; while the shooter uncle directly pulled out a revolver from his body. His gun-drawing speed was as fast as lightning; even a real cowboy would probably be no more than that.

"Woah~ Woah~ Calm down... calm down..." Feng Bujue quickly raised his hands, stood up from the bar chair, and took half a step back.

"Speak! Who are you?" Yang asked in a cold voice, "Did the FBI send you?"

"He doesn't look like it to me." The shooter uncle interjected from the side, "He's more like the CIA..." His gun muzzle slowly moved down, "Otherwise... let's break one of his legs first, and then ask him slowly..."

"Hey! Don't mess around!" Feng Bujue widened his eyes, showing a panicked look with very exaggerated acting, and replied, "I'm just a mailman applying for a job in town!"

"Yes, you've already said that argument just now." The shooter replied with a grin, "But we don't believe a word of it..." He glanced at Yang, "Right, old buddy?"

"That's right..." Yang replied, "At first, I didn't react. I thought he was just someone who came in to freeload..." He paused, looked back at the shooter, "Until you gave me a look, I realized... how could someone come into a bar in the middle of the afternoon to drink water and eat snacks?" Saying this, he tightened his grip on the gun in his hand and glared at Jue-Ge, "You're obviously here to find us!"

"Hey... I don't even know you guys, okay..." Cold sweat dripped down Feng Bujue's face.

But the two of them still ignored his words...

"Keep lying..." The shooter continued with a smile, "As soon as you entered the bar door, I felt there was something wrong with you. I let you stay to test you..." He snorted coldly, "Hmph... temporary mailman? Who are you trying to fool?" He also tightened his grip on the gun, looking like he was ready to pull the trigger at any moment, "Just last night, a person claiming to be going to the post office for an interview came to the store. Even if the town has another temporary mailman today, it should be him..."

"Wait!" Feng Bujue suddenly raised his voice and said, "The person you mentioned... did he wear a very elaborate felt hat?"

"Huh?" The shooter was visibly stunned when he heard this.

Seeing the other party's reaction, Jue-Ge felt a little relieved. He knew... this thing was promising.

"How do you know?" The shooter asked after exchanging glances with Yang.

"I saw him at the post office this morning." Feng Bujue replied truthfully, "He and I both came for an interview, but he didn't get the chance to become a temporary mailman."

"Oh?" Yang replied suspiciously, "Why?" He looked Jue-Ge up and down, and then said, "Could it be because you're a little bit more handsome than him?"

"No..." Feng Bujue shook his head and said, "Because he was a few minutes late and was shot dead by Chief Nelson..."

"Hmm..." Hearing this, the shooter and Yang both pondered for a moment, and then said in unison after two seconds, "That's possible..."

"Damn! What kind of people are these..." Feng Bujue thought to himself, "Is this small town a re-employment center for retired assassins... After hearing that someone was shot dead for being late, they actually showed a 'that makes sense' expression..."

"Wait a minute..." After a few seconds, the shooter seemed to have remembered something again. He continued, "How do I know if this isn't something you fabricated? Maybe you came to our bar last night and heard what that man in the felt hat said. Right now, you're just using a pre-planned story to try and fool us."

"That's right." Yang also echoed, "How do you prove that man was killed by Nelson? And how do you prove that you went to the post office this morning?"

"Uh... that..." Feng Bujue tilted his head and glanced at his upper pocket, "If you two agree, I can take out a temporary work permit from the post office from my upper pocket and show it to you. It has my name on it, as well as Chief Nelson's signature." He paused and added, "And in my wallet, there's a driver's license with my name on it, as well as... a photo."

The shooter and Yang looked at each other, seeming to believe him a little. However... they still didn't put down the guns in their hands.

"Take both of them out." After a moment, the shooter looked at Jue-Ge and said, "Move slowly... that's right... just like that."

Feng Bujue followed the other party's instructions, first took out his temporary work permit and slowly placed it on the bar. Then, he took out the wallet from his pants pocket, flipped to the page with the driver's license, and held it up in front of the two of them.

"Hahahaha..." At this moment, the shooter suddenly burst out laughing, casually put away the revolver in his hand, and gave Jue-Ge a hug, "Oh! Buddy, I thought you were the CIA, hahaha!"

Yang maintained his cool image and silently put the shotgun back under the bar: "It seems that the misunderstanding between us has been resolved."

"I have to buy you a drink, young man." The shooter's ferocious and experienced temperament vanished in an instant. As if he had a split personality, he instantly turned back into that kind, approachable, and enthusiastic uncle, "Yang, quickly pour our friend a drink to calm his nerves."

Before he finished speaking, Yang had already pushed a glass of iced wine in front of Jue-Ge, and within ten seconds, he had prepared a glass of wine for himself and the boss.

"To our new mailman." The shooter was the first to raise his glass.

"To the new mailman." Yang also raised his glass and said indifferently.

Looking at the two burning gazes, Feng Bujue stared with dead fish eyes and also picked up the wine glass: "Uh... thank you..."

The three of them raised their glasses and drank together, finishing them all in one gulp.

Feng Bujue was not a person who liked to drink very much. He hated the feeling of that alcoholic taste spreading out in his throat. However... not liking it didn't mean he couldn't drink it.

After he finished this glass of stuff, his expression was no different from drinking a glass of water: "Um... where were we talking about before?"

"We were talking about... none of your business." Yang continued Jue-Ge's words, coldly uttering these four words. Obviously, he still remembered the question that Feng Bujue had asked earlier...

"Okay." Feng Bujue wouldn't make a fool of himself. He had already deduced from the reactions of these two NPCs that unless they told you themselves, it was best not to mention questions about their origins, "Let's talk about something else, well... does this town have a lot of fat people living here?"

"Hehe..." The shooter revealed a cunning smile. He didn't answer Jue-Ge's question, but instead said, "Listen, Dave, asking about things at the bar counter usually comes at a price, understand?"

"Oh~ I understand, I understand." Feng Bujue opened his wallet and took out a five-dollar bill, "This should..."

"That's not what I meant." Unexpectedly, the shooter pushed his money back, "What I want isn't money."

"Don't want money... want someone?" Feng Bujue narrowed his eyes and cast a strange glance at the other party.

The shooter didn't pay attention to his reaction, but just said to himself, "When you opened your wallet just now, I saw a dart club membership card."

"Hmm?" Feng Bujue was slightly stunned for half a second, and replied, "You mean..."

"There's a reason why people call me 'Shooter'." The shooter replied, "Because I'm very 'accurate' no matter what I play. Not just shooting with guns... including archery, slingshots, bowling, billiards, and... darts, are all my strengths."

"So..." Feng Bujue pondered the other party's meaning and replied, "You who can't find an opponent in this small town... want to find me, a dart club member, to compete?"

"Hehe..." The shooter replied with a smile, "One game, one question."

"Every time you lose a game, you answer one of my questions?" Feng Bujue asked.

"That's right." The shooter replied.

"What if I lose?" Feng Bujue was very sensitive to details such as bets. He wouldn't agree to it without knowing what was going on.

"If you lose a total of ten games, leave your 'temporary work permit' behind." The shooter replied.

"Huh?" Feng Bujue's mind moved, "What's the use of you wanting that? This certificate is only valid for one..."

"I naturally have my reasons." The shooter interrupted Jue-Ge's words. Judging from his tone and expression, he seemed to know more about the certificate than Jue-Ge.

"Hmm..." Feng Bujue hesitated for a moment, "You have to tell me the specific rules first before I can decide..."

Hearing this, the shooter's mouth curled into a smile, like a fisherman seeing a fish bite the hook: "Heh... okay..."