In the next ten minutes, Feng Bujue devoured five bowls of snacks and drank eight glasses of water, using the kind of glasses one would use for whiskey.

When he opened the game menu again, the feelings of hunger and thirst had completely disappeared. Moreover, his Stamina Value had returned to 1,902,480, and even his Survival Value had slightly improved to over 70%.

It seemed that in this script, the "recovery" and "decay" rates of the various stats were the same, all based on the character's actual physical sensations. In short... it depleted quickly, but recovered quickly too.

In addition, while chewing the 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 what Jue-Ge was saying.

Therefore, he had smoothly struck up a rapport with them.

"Alright... we've talked a lot about me." Having finished replenishing himself, Feng Bujue took another sip of water, rinsed his mouth, and then changed the subject, "How about... we talk about the two of you..."

As soon as he said this, the expressions on Shooter and Yang's faces immediately changed.

But Jue-Ge didn't care about that. He didn't give them time to think and quickly asked, "I wonder, how long have you two been in this town?"

*Kacha—Kacha—*

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

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

"Whoa~ whoa~ 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 look of horror with very exaggerated acting, and continued, "I'm just a mailman who came to town to apply for a job!"

"Yes, you've already said that line," Shooter replied with a sneer, "But we don't believe a word of it..." He glanced at Yang, "Right, old buddy?"

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

"Hey... I don't even know you guys, okay..." Cold sweat broke out on Feng Bujue's forehead.

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

"Just keep lying..." Shooter continued with a smile, "I felt something was wrong with you the moment you walked into the bar. Letting you stay was just to test you..." He snorted coldly, "Hmph... temporary mailman? Who are you trying to fool?" He also tightened his grip on the gun, looking ready to pull the trigger at any moment, "Just last night, a man who claimed to be going to the post office for an interview came to the store. Even if the town will have an extra temporary mailman today, it should be him..."

"Wait!" Feng Bujue suddenly raised his voice and said, "Are you talking about a guy who was wearing a very elegant felt hat?"

"Hmm?" Shooter was obviously stunned when he heard this.

Seeing the other party's reaction, Jue-Ge felt a little more confident. He knew... this matter had a chance.

"How do you know?" Shooter and Yang exchanged glances, and then asked.

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

"Oh?" Yang suspiciously continued, "Why?" He sized 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, "Because he was a few minutes late, and Chief Nelson shot him dead..."

"Hmm..." Hearing this sentence, Shooter and Yang both pondered for a moment, and then said in unison two seconds later, "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 for being late, they actually showed an 'I see' expression..."

"Wait a minute..." After a few seconds, Shooter seemed to have remembered something again, and he continued, "How do I know if this isn't something you made up? 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, trying to fool us."

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

"Uh... that..." Feng Bujue tilted his head, 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 for you to see. It has my name on it, as well as Chief Nelson's signature." He paused, and added, "And in my wallet, there is a driver's license, which also has my name on it, and... a photo."

Shooter and Yang looked at each other, seemingly believing him a little. However... they still didn't put down the guns in their hands.

"Take both of them out." After a moment, Shooter looked at Jue-Ge and said, "Slowly... yes... 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, turned to the page with the driver's license, and held it up to the two of them.

"Hahahaha..." At this time, Shooter suddenly laughed loudly, and casually put away the revolver in his hand, and gave Jue-Ge a hug, "Oh! Buddy, I thought you were the CIA, hahaha!"

Yang, on the other hand, maintained his cold 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." Shooter's ferocious and experienced temperament disappeared in an instant. As if he had a split personality, he instantly turned back into the kind, amiable, and friendly uncle, "Yang, quickly pour a drink for our friend 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, had prepared a glass of wine for himself and the boss.

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

"To the new mailman." Yang also picked up his glass and said calmly.

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

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

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

After he poured the stuff down, his expression was no different from drinking a glass of water: "That... where were we before?"

"We were talking about... no comment." Yang continued Jue-Ge's words, and coldly said these four words. Obviously, he still remembered the question Feng Bujue had raised earlier...

"Alright." Feng Bujue wouldn't make a fool of himself, and he had already inferred 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, that... does this town of ours have a lot of fat people living in it?"

"Hehe..." Shooter showed a cunning smile, he didn't answer Jue-Ge's question, but continued, "Listen, Dave, asking about things at the bar usually comes at a price, understand?"

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

"That's not what I meant." Unexpectedly, Shooter pushed his money back, "What I want is not money."

"Not money... wants people?" Feng Bujue narrowed his eyes, and cast a strange look at the other party.

Shooter didn't care about his reaction, and 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'." Shooter continued, "Because I'm very 'accurate' no matter what I play. Not just shooting with guns... including bows and arrows, slingshots, bowling, billiards, and... darts, are all my strengths."

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

"Hehe..." 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." Shooter replied.

"What if I lose?" Feng Bujue was very sensitive to details such as bets, and he wouldn't agree to it in a daze.

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

"Huh?" Feng Bujue's mind moved, "What do you want that for? This certificate is only valid for one..."

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

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

Hearing this, a smile appeared on the corner of Shooter's mouth, like the expression of a fisherman seeing a fish biting the hook: "Heh... can do..."