Chapter 713 Dave's World (XII)

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

When he opened the game menu again, the feeling of hunger and thirst completely disappeared, and the physical value returned to 1902/4800, and even the survival value was slightly improved to more than 70%.

It seems that in this script, the "recovery" and "decay" ratios of various values ​​are the same, all according to the actual physical sensation of the character. In short... the faster the consumption, the faster the recovery.

In addition, while chewing the food, Brother Jue did not forget to use this time to communicate with the NPC.

Although he was a little slurred when speaking, the two NPCs had very good hearing and could fully understand what Brother Jue meant.

Therefore, he successfully got close to the two people.

"Okay... We have talked a lot about my affairs." After making up for it, Feng Bujue drank another glass of water, rinsed his mouth, and then changed the topic, "Why not... talk about you two..."

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

But Jue didn't care about it. He didn't give the other party time to think and asked quickly: "How long have you two been in this town?"

Click-click-click-

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

In that one and a half seconds, Yang took out a shotgun from under the bar at lightning speed; and the shooter uncle directly took out a revolver from his body, and his gun-pulling speed was as fast as lightning. A real cowboy is probably no more than this.

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

"Say! Who are you?" Yang asked in a cold voice. "Did the FBI send you here?"

"I don't think he is." The shooter uncle continued, "More like the CIA..." He slowly lowered the muzzle of his gun, "Otherwise... let's break one of his legs first, and then slowly ask..."

"Hey! Don't mess around!" Feng Bujue widened his eyes, using exaggerated acting skills to show a look of fear, and continued, "I just came to town to apply for the postman position!"

"Yes. You just said this set of rhetoric." The shooter grinned back, "But we don't believe a word of it..." He glanced at Yang, "Right. Old man."

"That's right..." Yang continued, "At first I didn't react, I thought he was just a cheat..." He paused and looked back at the shooter. "It wasn't until you winked at me that I realized... how could someone walk into a bar in the middle of the day to drink water and eat snacks?" At this point, he tightened his grip on the gun in his hand and glared at Brother Jue, "You're obviously here to find us!"

"Hey... I don't know you at all..." Feng Bujue was sweating coldly.

But the two still ignored him...

"Just lie..." The shooter continued with a smile, "I felt something was wrong with you as soon as you walked into the door of the bar. I asked you to stay just to test you..." He snorted coldly, "Humph... temporary postman? Who are you kidding?" He also tightened his grip on the gun, looking ready to pull the trigger at any time. "Just last night, there was a person in the store who claimed to be going to the post office for an interview. Even if there are more temporary postmen in the town today, it should be him..."

"Wait!" Feng Bujue suddenly raised his voice and said, "The person you are talking about... is he wearing a very elegant felt hat?"

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

Seeing the other party's reaction, Brother Jue felt a little relieved, he knew... this matter has a play.

"How did you know?" Shooter and Yang exchanged glances and asked.

"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 postman."

"Oh?" Yang asked suspiciously, "Why?" He looked Brother Jue up and down, and then said, "Is it because you are a little more handsome than him?"

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

"Well..." Hearing this, Shooter and Yang pondered at the same time, and said in unison two seconds later, "This is possible..."

"Damn! Who are you helping..." Feng Bujue thought to himself, "Is this town a re-employment center for retired killers... I heard that someone was shot dead for being late, and he actually showed an expression of 'I see'..."

"Wait..." After a few seconds , the shooter seemed to have remembered something, and he continued, "How do I know if you made this up? Maybe you came to our bar last night and heard what the man in the felt hat said. Now you just brought out the pre-planned excuse to get away with it."

"That's right." Yang also responded, "How do you prove that the man was beaten to death by Nelson? How do 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 the signature of Director Nelson." He paused and added, "And in my wallet, there is a driver's license with my name and... a photo on it."

The shooter and Yang looked at each other, seeming to believe it. But... they still haven't put down their guns.

"Take out both." After a moment, the shooter looked at Brother Jue and said, "Move slowly...yes...that's it."

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

"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 a CIA, hahaha !”

Yang 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." The shooter's ferocious and old-fashioned temperament disappeared in an instant, as if he had a schizophrenia, and he instantly turned back into the amiable, warm and friendly uncle, "Yang, give me a quick drink." Our friend poured a glass of wine to calm the panic."

Before he finished speaking, Yang pushed a glass of wine with ice cubes in front of Brother Jue, and within ten seconds, he prepared a glass of wine for himself and his boss.

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

"Here's to the new postman." Yang also picked up the cup and answered calmly.

Looking at the two scorching eyes, Feng Bujue glared with dead eyes and picked up the wine glass: "Uh... thank you..."

The three of them picked up the wine glasses and drank it all in one gulp.

Feng Bujue is not a big drinker. He hates the feeling of the smell of alcoholic drinks dispersing in his throat. But... just because you don't like it doesn't mean you can't drink it.

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

"As of now...no comment." Yang followed Brother Jue's words and said these four words coldly. Obviously, he still remembers the question Feng Bujue raised earlier...

"Okay." Feng Bujue would not ask for trouble. He had already inferred from the reactions of the two NPCs that unless they tell you themselves, it is best not to ask questions about their origins. "Let's talk about something else." Okay, so what... are there a lot of fat people living in our town?"

"Haha..." The shooter showed a scheming smile. He did not answer Brother Jue's question, but continued, "Listen, Dave, there is usually a price to pay for asking about things at the bar, do you understand? "

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

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

"You don't want money...you want people?" Feng Bujue raised his eyes and cast a strange look at the other party.

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

"Huh?" Feng Bujue was stunned for half a second, then replied, "What do you mean..."

"There is a reason why people call me 'shooter'." The shooter continued, "Because I am very 'accurate' in whatever I play. Not just shooting with guns...including bows and arrows, slingshots, bowling, billiards, and... Darts are all my strengths.”

"So..." Feng Bujue tried to figure out what the other party meant, and then continued, "It's hard to find an opponent in this small town... You want to compete with me, a member of the dart club?"

"Haha..." the shooter replied with a smile, "one round, one question."

"Every time you lose a game, answer me a question?" Feng Bujue asked.

"That's right," the shooter replied.

"What if I lose?" Feng Bujue was very sensitive to details such as bets, and he would not agree to it haphazardly.

"If you lose ten rounds in total, keep your 'temporary work permit'," the shooter replied.

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

"Of course I have my reasons." The shooter interrupted Jue Ge. Judging from his tone and demeanor, he seemed to know more about the documents than Jue Ge.

"Well..." 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 the shooter's mouth, just like the expression of a fisherman when he sees a fish biting the hook: "Ah... okay..." (To be continued...)