At seven in the evening, a secluded campsite in Yellowstone Park was illuminated by a campfire, with its orange-red flames drawing the attention of human eyes.
"FBI?!"
Upon seeing the gold badge in Luo An's hand, a Wyoming police officer named Fres widened his eyes in surprise.
The officer from neighboring Montana, named Duarte, was even more astonished, his mouth agape.
"Hello, Mr. FBI."
After a brief moment of distraction, Fres was the quickest to recover. He reached out and shook Luo An's hand again, his smile even wider:
"I never expected to encounter an FBI agent here camping for leisure today."
Before Luo An could speak, Duarte suddenly remembered the scene where everyone in the campsite suddenly stood up, with Winslow and Reesi even unconsciously placing their hands behind their backs, so he asked with a forced laugh:
"May I know who these individuals are?"
"We are all from the FBI."
