Chapter 47: It Must Be a European—Let the Unboxing Begin

“But…”

Just as Xing Xiaolong was about to step forward and offer his hand to seal the agreement, Louis’s tone shifted abruptly. “I might agree to your terms, but that doesn’t mean they’ll agree to take you along.”

Wasn’t this supposed to be his private armed force?

Something was clearly different from what he had guessed. Xing Xiaolong felt a flicker of doubt, his brow furrowing as he asked, “They? So you’re not in charge?”

“My relationship with them is much like the one I have with you. Perhaps a shade closer, but not by much.” Louis made a small gesture with his hand, indicating the difference, and continued, “You could say that I can’t command them like a master would his servants. At best, I can offer your inclusion in their team as an added condition of our deal.

But with your current physical state, you’d be a burden in any operation. They’re the most professional armed team around—they’d never allow someone who might compromise the mission’s success to slip into their ranks.

Unless…”

Louis pointed across the space at Xing Xiaolong’s right leg. “If, within a day, you can at least guarantee you’ll move without hindrance, I might be able to make a case for you to join the rescue operation.

I must remind you, giving you a day is already the bottom line. Any longer, and we miss the window for the rescue. The people of this country are not known for their patience.”

Louis’s words, though tactful, were crystal clear.

If Xing Xiaolong couldn’t even guarantee basic mobility, joining the rescue team would not only be useless, but would endanger everyone else. Had it not been for his admiration for Xing Xiaolong’s courage and character, and the lack of other suitable partners, Louis wouldn’t have wasted so many words—he’d have simply refused outright.

“To recover in one day?”

Xing Xiaolong lowered his head, muttering to himself. The word “recover” made him think of those miraculous little medicines, and then he remembered the reward from the CF Shop, which he hadn’t yet checked.

For some reason, Xing Xiaolong had a strong hunch that among those rewards, there must be something that could help him heal the compressive fracture in his right shin within a day.

“Alright, it’s settled. Give me a day to prepare.”

The more he thought about it, the more impatient he became. Shaking hands with Louis to seal their partnership, Xing Xiaolong turned and hobbled toward the tent entrance, leaning on his crutch.

“This young man is truly stubborn. A pity he’s still so green, untempered by hardship. A broken bone isn’t something that heals at will,” Louis mused, watching Xing Xiaolong’s retreating figure with a wry smile. Shaking his head, he reached for his glasses on the bedside table, put them on, then fished out pen and paper from his breast pocket and began scribbling.

To avoid being mistaken for insane by Louis if he suddenly started gesturing at a translucent screen in front of him, Xing Xiaolong slipped out of the infirmary and made his way to a secluded spot behind the tent before opening the CF Shop.

“I hope my hunch is right,” he prayed silently, rubbing his thumb lightly over the gold ring on his left hand.

With a swish, the CF Shop interface activated, the translucent display appearing once more.

The first two times he’d opened this exclusive interface, the situation had been too dangerous for Xing Xiaolong to really take a look at the CF Shop itself.

Now, opening it for the third time, he finally had the leisure to observe everything properly.

“Isn’t this the first-generation interface from when CF was officially launched in 2008? The simplest, most beloved interface that veteran players still miss.”

This familiar old interface made Xing Xiaolong smile in spite of himself.

Those were the earliest memories—simple, practical, nothing like the gaudy designs that came later. The golden glow was almost blinding.

The first-generation CF Shop interface was clean and functional: three main sections—top, left, and right—were clearly laid out.

At the very top was a horizontal bar filled with icons for switching between sub-menus.

On the left half of that bar were the bold, stylized words: “Crossfire.” Moving right from the center, five button icons were lined up: Personal Inventory, Game Shop, Special Training Ground, Mission Board, and Exit CF Shop.

Beneath the horizontal bar was the main screen, split into two panels—a smaller one on the left and a larger one on the right.

The left panel took up about a third of the space, with a label at the top reading “Player Real-Time Information,” followed by the player name “Sniper of Red Star Street,” level “Rookie,” and remaining CF points: “0.”

That glaring “0”—the hallmark of a true free-to-play player.

Below that, four horizontal sub-tabs—Weapons, Characters, Items—waited. Since Xing Xiaolong hadn’t yet operated anything or opened any rewards, all three sub-tabs were completely empty; not a single item could be seen.

The right side, occupying two-thirds of the screen, was the main display area.

This main display was linked to the top bar—since he hadn’t clicked any of the large icons, the area remained blank, a translucent gray background.

As an old hand at CF, Xing Xiaolong was naturally familiar with this first-generation layout.

What he cared about most were the mission rewards. He opened his Personal Inventory first. The main area below shifted to a neatly arranged grid of square slots.

At the top of the interface, four small icons could be selected—Weapons, Characters, Items, and Mission Rewards.

Clicking the first, Weapons, the main area shifted again, becoming an armory room. Sadly, the gun racks were empty, robbing the scene of any sense of grandeur.

The second icon revealed another room, this one lined with clothing racks—a large dressing room.

The third icon was a three-dimensional cabinet filled with shelves of various sizes, clearly meant for storing items.

Unlike the previous empty rooms, this item cabinet contained a single backpack.

The backpack was labeled “Number One Pack”—the very one from which he’d drawn the three miracle medicines, now rendered in 3D instead of a flat image.

With its all-terrain camouflage and sturdy inner frame, it was clearly a custom military backpack.

Finally, he selected the fourth icon, Mission Rewards. This too opened a three-dimensional room, but with not a single shelf or cabinet in sight.

However, that didn’t matter, for the floor was strewn with more than a dozen bundles—some seemingly made of genuine leather, others of rough cotton, in various shapes and sizes.

“These must be the rewards,” he thought, excitement rising as he surveyed the treasure trove waiting to be claimed.

Compared to simply buying a specific item, opening these random bundles—testing his luck to see if he was cursed or blessed—was so much more thrilling, adrenaline surging through his veins.

Of course, it was also more addictive—and harder to stop.