In the next ten minutes, Feng Bujue finished five bowls of snacks and used a glass of whiskey to drink eight glasses of water.
When he opened the game menu again, the feeling of hunger and thirst had completely disappeared. His Stamina Points had returned to 19024800, and even his Life Points had increased to more than seventy percent.
It looked like in this scenario, the 'recovery' and 'decay' of the various Stamina Points were the same, and they were all based on the character's actual physical appearance. In other words … the Stamina Points would recover quickly.
Other than that, while Brother Jue chewed on the food, he did not forget to communicate with the NPCs.
Even though his speech was slightly slurred, the two NPCs had good hearing, and they could understand Brother Jue perfectly.
Therefore, he managed to get close to the two easily.
"Alright … We've talked a lot about me." Feng Bujue, who had finished his meal, drank another glass of water to rinse his mouth, and then changed the topic. "How about … we talk about the two of you?"
Once that was said, the expression on the shooter and Yang's face changed immediately.
However, Brother Jue did not care about that. He did not give them time to think and quickly asked, "I wonder how long you two have been in this town?"
Kacha — Kacha —
One point five seconds later, the two guns were aimed at Feng Bujue's temple and forehead respectively.
In that one and a half seconds, Yang pulled out a shotgun from under the bar counter at lightning speed. The shooter, on the other hand, pulled out a revolver from his body. His speed was as fast as lightning, perhaps even a real cowboy could not compare to him.
"Oh … Oh … Calm down … Calm down …" Feng Bujue quickly raised his hands, stood up from the bar counter, and took half a step back.
"Speak! Who are you? "Yang demanded in a cold voice." Did the FBI send you here? "
"He doesn't look like one," the shooter said. "He looks more like the CIA …" His gun slowly moved down. "How about … we break one of his legs first, and then we can slowly interrogate him …"
"Hey! Don't do anything stupid! " Feng Bujue widened his eyes, and he used a very exaggerated acting to show his fear. He added, "I'm just a postman who came to town to apply for a job!"
"Yes, you've already said that," the shooter said with a grin. "But we don't believe a word of it …" He glanced at Yang. "Isn't that right, old friend?"
"That's right …" Yang added. "At first, I didn't realize it. I thought he was just a scammer …" He paused and looked back at Sagittarius. "It wasn't until you gave me a look that I realized … why would someone walk into a bar in the middle of the day just to have a drink and snack?" At this point, he gripped the gun in his hand even tighter. He glared at Brother Jue and said, "It is obvious that you are here for us!"
"Hey … I don't even know any of you …" Feng Bujue was breaking out in cold sweat.
But the two continued to ignore him …
"Stop joking around …" Sagittarius said with a smile. "I knew something was wrong with you the moment you stepped into the bar. The reason I asked you to stay was to test you …" He scoffed. "Humph … Temporary postman? Who are you trying to fool? " He tightened his grip on the gun and looked like he was ready to pull the trigger at any time. "Just last night, someone came to the shop and claimed that he was going to the post office for an interview. Even if there was a temporary postman in town today, it should be him …"
"Wait!" Feng Bujue suddenly raised his voice. "The person you're talking about … Was he wearing a fancy felt hat?"
"Hmm?" The shooter heard this and was obviously stunned.
Seeing the shooter's reaction, Brother Jue calmed down. He knew … there was a chance.
"How did you know?" The shooter and Yang exchanged glances and asked.
"I saw him at the post office this morning." Feng Bujue answered truthfully. "He and I both came for an interview, but he didn't get the chance to be a temporary postman."
"Oh?" Yang asked suspiciously. "Why?" He looked Brother Jue up and down and said, "Is it because you're a little more handsome than him?"
"No …" Feng Bujue shook his head. "It's because he was a few minutes late and Director Nelson shot him …"
"Hmm …" Hearing this, the shooter and Yang muttered at the same time. Two seconds later, they said in unison, "That's possible …"
"F * ck! What kind of people are they helping … "Feng Bujue thought to himself." Is this town a re-employment center for retired assassins? After hearing that someone was shot because he was late, they showed an expression of 'I see'... "
"Wait …" After a few seconds, the shooter seemed to remember something. He said, "How do I know you're not making this up? Maybe you came to our bar last night and heard what the man in the felt hat said. Now you're just using a pre-planned excuse to get away with it. "
"That's right." Yang agreed. "How can you prove that the man was shot dead by Nelson? How can you prove that you went to the post office this morning? "
"Uh … that …" Feng Bujue tilted his head and glanced at his jacket pocket. "If you two agree, I can take out a temporary post office work permit from my jacket pocket and show it to you. It has my name and Director Nelson's signature on it." He paused for a moment and added, "In my wallet, there's a driver's license with my name and … a photo."
The shooter and Yang looked at each other and seemed to believe him. However … they still did not put down the guns in their hands.
"Take out both." After a moment, the shooter looked at Brother Jue and said, "Slow down … Yes … That's it."
Feng Bujue followed the shooter's instructions and took out his temporary work permit and slowly placed it on the bar counter. Then, he took out his wallet from his trouser pocket and flipped to the page with the driver's license. He held it in front of the two men.
"Hahahaha …" At this time, the shooter suddenly laughed and put away the revolver in his hand as if nothing had happened. He stepped forward and gave Brother Jue a hug. "Oh! Man, I thought you were from the CIA, hahaha! "
Yang maintained his cold image and silently put the shotgun back under the bar counter. "It seems that the misunderstanding between us has been resolved."
"I have to buy you a drink, young man." The archer's ferocious and shrewd temperament vanished in an instant. As if he had schizophrenia, he turned back into the amiable, warm, and friendly uncle. "Yang, hurry up and pour a glass of wine for our friend to calm him down."
Before he finished, Yang had already pushed a glass of wine with ice cubes before Brother Jue. In less than ten seconds, he had already prepared a glass of wine for himself and his boss.
"To our new postman." The shooter was the first to raise his glass.
"To the new postman." Yang also raised his glass and said calmly.
Looking at the two burning eyes, Feng Bujue stared at them and also raised his glass. "Uh … Thank you …"
The three of them raised their glasses and downed them all in one gulp.
Feng Bujue was not a person who liked to drink. He hated the feeling of alcohol dissolving in his throat. But … Just because he didn't like it didn't mean he couldn't drink.
After he finished the drink, his expression was no different from drinking a glass of water. "That … where were we talking earlier?"
"We were … No comment." Yang continued Brother Jue's words and coldly said these four words. Obviously, he still remembered the question Feng Bujue asked earlier …
"Okay." Feng Bujue was not going to ask for a rebuff. He had already deduced from the two NPCs' reactions that unless they told him themselves, it was best not to ask about their origins. "Let's talk about something else. Um … Are there a lot of fat people living in our town?"
"Haha …" The shooter revealed a sly smile. He did not answer Brother Jue's question. Instead, he said, "Listen, Dave, you have to pay a price for asking around the bar. Do you understand?"
"Oh, I understand." Feng Bujue opened his wallet and pulled out a five-dollar bill. "This should be …"
"That's not what I meant." Unexpectedly, the shooter pushed the money back. "I don't want the money."
"You don't want the money … You want the person?" Feng Bujue narrowed his eyes and gave the shooter a strange look.
The shooter did not care about his reaction. He just said, "When you opened your wallet earlier, I saw a membership card for the Dart Club."
"Hmm?" Feng Bujue paused for half a second before replying, "You mean …"
"There's a reason why people call me the 'shooter,'" the shooter continued. "Because I'm very 'accurate' at everything I play. Not only with guns, but also with bows and arrows, slingshots, bowling, billiards, and … darts. They are all my strengths. "
"So …" Feng Bujue tried to figure out what the shooter meant and said, "You, who can't find a match in this small town … You want to play with me, a member of the Dart Club?"
"Haha …" the shooter replied with a smile. "One round, one question."
"Every time you lose, you have to answer one question from me?" Feng Bujue asked.
"That's right," the shooter replied.
"What if I lose?" Feng Bujue was very sensitive to the details of bets. He would not agree without thinking.
"If you lose a total of ten rounds, you have to leave your 'temporary work permit,'" the shooter replied.
"Huh?" Feng Bujue thought for a moment. "What do you need that for? It's only valid for one … "
"I have my reasons," the shooter interrupted Feng Bujue. The marksman interrupted Brother Jue. From his tone and expression, he seemed to know more about this document than Brother Jue did.
"Hmm …" Feng Bujue hesitated for a moment. "You have to tell me the specific rules first, then I can decide …"
Hearing this, the Sagittarius's lips curled into a smile, like a fisherman seeing a fish take the bait. "Heh … Sure …"
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