The Character Card and Customization

Xiang Qi’s expression was peculiar as she mentally cast away the inexplicable sense of déjà vu that had surfaced. She then continued to read further down the document.

What followed were details regarding talents and phenomenal armaments. Then came the most crucial item for any player: the character card.

Outwardly, a character card was roughly the size of a bank card, though slightly thicker. The front displayed the player’s various information, while the back bore the game’s insignia.

According to the document, character cards were categorized into four levels. These included the most basic beginner’s white card, the advanced blue card for veterans, the premium purple card owned by seasoned players, and the orange card reserved for true powerhouses.

The white card offered no special effects. The blue card could house one talent, while the purple card allowed for an additional talent or the binding of a phenomenal armament. The orange card represented a fully enhanced state, capable of holding two talents and one phenomenal armament.

Character cards were not merely a symbol of strength; they also represented wealth.

Indeed, upgrading a card required payment. A white-to-blue upgrade cost a thousand points, blue-to-purple cost ten thousand points, and purple-to-orange a hundred thousand points. This perfectly embodied the principle that ‘money makes you stronger,’ making one wonder if the game had some unspoken connection to a certain ‘Daddy Ma.’

Furthermore, upgrading a card didn’t guarantee new abilities. While phenomenal armaments could be purchased, talents genuinely relied on sheer luck.

This single factor made many players carefully weigh the worth of upgrading their character cards.

‘With so many points, wouldn’t it be better to buy some powerful items instead of enduring this character card’s nonsense?’

However, everything had its pros and cons. Items could be brought into a game, or they might be directly dropped, but their uncertainty was simply too high. In contrast, abilities attached to a character card could be used anywhere and were unlikely to be specifically targeted.

It was similar to the blue-haired girl’s pistol in the previous game; a normal item would never have been permitted into the game.

Thinking of character cards, Xiang Qi reached into her inner thigh, pulling a card from her stocking band. She gazed at the translucent card, which shimmered with a mesmerizing, almost psychedelic hue under the light.

‘Who can tell me what color this card, made of glass—or perhaps crystal—is supposed to be?’

‘That scoundrel father really gave me a challenge,’ Xiang Qi murmured, rubbing her hair. She had no idea how to classify her card.

‘It looks really impressive; it shouldn’t be trash.’

She tried to upgrade the card in the store. The system prompted ‘cannot upgrade,’ not ‘insufficient balance.’ This information was quite important, indicating that she, at least, wouldn’t need to pay the exorbitant cost of replacing the card.

When attempting to purchase other items, the system consistently displayed ‘insufficient balance.’ Thus, Xiang Qi concluded that her card was likely even more advanced than an orange card.

“Speaking of which, this game really is…”

Xiang Qi struggled to find a suitable adjective for a moment. Not only did the team system mimic ‘Chirp-Chirp,’ but even the in-game store was just a mini-program built directly on top of it.

Honestly, while the game might lack a certain prestige, the items sold in its store were quite eye-catching.

Various daily necessities were priced surprisingly low, usually between one and ten points, and this even included a wide array of luxury goods. Anything one could encounter in real life was available for purchase.

For instance, a pair of ordinary running shoes cost five points, while a pair of limited-edition ‘M’ brand sneakers also cost five points. This was a price that would make any shoe enthusiast want to punch someone, truly an exceptionally good deal.

However, prices for weapons quickly became steep. A large machete cost sixty points, a common small pistol was six hundred and forty-eight points, and the AK-47, beloved by ordinary people, reached two thousand three hundred and thirty-three points. A Tiger tank, incredibly, was valued at ten thousand points.

Other items, such as Gauss weapons, laser katanas, and scepter-like artifacts, were utterly beyond the reach of mortals.

Even things like two-dimensional foils, logical weapons, and corrupted armaments were clearly priced, though the lengthy string of zeros directly deterred any players who harbored ambitions for them.

‘It’s truly fortunate that Earth won’t suddenly suffer a dimensional reduction attack one day. Thank you, God of Poverty, for saving this world once again.’

What truly captivated Xiang Qi was the system store’s customization service. As long as one had enough points, anything could be created.

Xiang Qi strongly suspected that her current body was a customized service her scoundrel father had purchased from the system store. Out of curiosity, she inquired about the points needed to revert her body to its original state. She then silently accepted the reality, abandoning any further frivolous thoughts.

To be crushed by reality was precisely this.

“Damn it, scoundrel father! You had the money to transform me, but you couldn’t leave me more inheritance to buy ten or eight high-grade items?”

This made our Miss Xiang Qi gnash her teeth in frustration. Unfortunately, in her current form, her anger carried an inexplicable cuteness, completely failing to achieve its intended effect.

That document contained roughly this much information. Many deeper aspects were not covered; for instance, some of the intelligence Xiang Qi had obtained from Xiang Ke in the previous game was absent here.

After all, these were just basic knowledge points for new players. One couldn’t expect too much, could they?

After confirming she had memorized all the content and missed nothing, Xiang Qi decisively purchased a hundred points worth of dresses from the store. A substantial package, containing various outfits suitable for different occasions, materialized out of thin air before her.

Cough, cough. This wasn’t because Xiang Qi had a fetish for cross-dressing. It was simply to facilitate her actions. Since she had become a girl, it was only reasonable to dress herself up elegantly, wasn’t it? Moreover, given that she was possibly being hunted by enemies, she found it inconvenient to show her face and didn’t want anyone to discover Xiang Ran appearing in two different places simultaneously. At such a time, purchasing supplies from the system store seemed quite necessary.

Perhaps this seemed a bit overly cautious. After all, Xiang Qi had even changed her body, so her enemies might not recognize her now. However, given Xiang Qi’s consistently prudent nature, she would not leave such a potential hidden danger that could expose her identity. If she could do better, why wouldn’t she?

Only one urgent matter remained for her: to approach the girl named Xiang Ran and decide her attitude towards her based on the circumstances.