Runes • Rifles • Reincarnation

181. Demonic Beast Extermination Mission

“You use your whole body when pulling the trigger on your weapons, even if you don't realize it yourself. So, this rune should replace that one, and place it near your eyes for better sight,” Chen Ai Yun said, pointing between the runes in his technique and a separate list of substitutions. “Then, these runes should go on your legs to stabilize yourself.”“Hmm… that would work better.” Jin Shu nodded.

She was right, he realized. Even though she'd never even fired a gun herself, just from observing him she knew almost more than himself. Her recommendations for substitute runes were spot on. From sight enhancing runes to stabilizers, and then some, all her suggestions were exactly what he was missing. 

“You know,” Feng Lian cut in, gesturing at another section, “formations drain far more qi than single runes. They should only be applied right before a major realm breakthrough. Any other time, you risk overdrawing your qi.”

“That’s bad…” Jin Shu muttered, crossing out the section she indicated and jotting a note beside it.

“You should hide them,” Sun Mei’er said, leaning over his shoulder.

Jin Shu glanced back at her, leaning away slightly—her face was far too close.

“Hide what?”

“The tattoos.” She tapped his back. “Make them like the one you had before—the dragon and tiger.”

“Why would I need to? And that one was specifically for a life-giving rune that brought them to life.”

“The life-giving rune?” Feng Lian asked, incredulous. “You can inscribe it?”

“Yes, and I can. But Long Jinshu told me I wouldn’t be able to remember it often because of heavenly interference.”

“But you remembered it just now,” Sun Mei’er pointed out.

“Huh… I did.” He tilted his head, blinking.

“He also told us after the rebirth that he blocked all future heavenly interference,” Shuang added.

Jin Shu realized he’d missed that—likely because he’d been furious at the time. Fortunately, his two other souls had been calmer than he was back then.

“Never mind what I said. I can inscribe the life-giving rune. Why? Is it important?”

Instead of answering, Feng Lian produced a blank sheet of paper and a brush.

“Draw a flame rune,” she said, handing him the brush.

“Okay…”

He complied, sketching the flame rune in the center of the paper.

“Now activate it.”

He gave her a look that all but said you’ve lost your mind.

“Don’t give me that look. Just do it.”

“Fine, but it won’t work—it’s normal ink and paper, and I didn’t even use any qi…” Still, he grumbled as he injected qi into the rune.

…

The qi sank into the paper. Nothing happened.

“Now draw the life-giving rune over it.”

“But you can’t draw one rune over another—”

“Don’t argue. Just try. You’ll be surprised.”

“Tsk.” He clicked his tongue but didn’t bother arguing further—it all felt pointless anyway.

As he put brush to paper, he noticed the life-giving rune was slightly larger than most. While runes had a standard size, they could be adjusted within limits. The life-giving rune consisted of three interconnected circles, and he set the middle one directly over the flame rune. 

“What now? Should I put my qi into it?”

Feng Lian simply nodded.

Shaking his head, he pushed his qi into the paper again, certain nothing would happen. If it did, it would overturn everything he’d ever been taught about runes.

Several seconds passed. The paper didn’t change in the slightest. He turned to Feng Lian, catching her smiling at him.

“What was the point of this?”

“To show you that you can’t trust everything you’re told—not even by us,” she said. “By the way, I’ve never even heard of the life-giving rune before. Still… it’s an interesting one.”

“But… I never trusted you to begin with…” he protested weakly.

“Not on that, no. But you’ve trusted us to complete your technique for you—when it’s your responsibility to do so.”

“You were the one who brought my mothers to help…”

“True, and we will help. You just need to remember—this is your technique. You have to make it yours. Understand?”

“…I do.”

“Good. Now, back to what Mei’er said. You should hide your runes, and concealing them with artful tattoos is a good idea.”

He gave her a skeptical look. “This isn’t another trick… is it?”

“No. If an enemy notices your runes, they could target them, disabling your technique. Better to keep them hidden.”

“Hmm… but I’m not great at art—especially drawing on myself.”

“If only there were a master painter here to teach you,” Sun Mei’er said in monotone, her not-so-subtle hint aimed at Chen Ai Yun.

“If she wants to teach me, then I guess I could.”

“I don’t mind,” Chen Ai Yun said with a nod.

“Great!” Sun Mei’er clapped her hands. “Then the only thing left is for Jin Shu to weave his fighting style into the technique. That’s something only he can do.”

“No, no—light strokes, light,” Chen Ai Yun instructed. “Don’t push the brush. Guide it to where it wants to go.”

Jin Shu had no idea what that was supposed to mean, but he tried to follow her directions anyway.

They’d been at this for over eight hours. His paintings weren’t exactly masterpieces—no Mona Lisas here—but he thought they looked decent enough. Chen Ai Yun, however, always found something to correct. She was surprisingly demanding as a teacher.

“Better, but still not good enough,” she said as he finished his latest attempt. “Alright, next lesson.”

“Uh… we’ve been at this for hours. I still need to work on the missing parts of my technique…”

“Hmm…” She tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Alright, we’ll postpone it for later. How do you plan on completing your technique? Do you need more combat experience?”

Now it was his turn to think. Almost mirroring her gesture, he tapped his own chin.

“I need to test some weapons. A bit of combat experience with them might help me figure out how to work my fighting style into the technique.”

“Then take the newest demonic beast extermination mission.”

“What’s that?”

“Every few weeks, we send disciples to clear the demonic beasts at the foot of the Demon Mountains. If we don’t, they might wander into nearby human villages.”

“I see.” He nodded. “But… do I have to join the other disciples on the mission?”

“Not necessarily. But you do need at least four people.” She tilted her head toward him. “Why not take those three?”

I did make them weapons… this would be a good way to get them used to them, he thought.

“Sure, sounds like a good idea.” He stood, glanced once at the painting of Yin’er he’d made, then headed for the door.

“Wait,” Chen Ai Yun called.

“Hm?”

“Don’t forget her.” She pointed to a small chick sleeping on a nearby shelf.

“Oh… right.”

Ji Ji had followed him so he could awaken her dormant ancestral bloodline. That meant teaching her a special method—something that should have been easy. But she was terrible at studying, worse at following instructions, and required a painfully slow, step-by-step process under his constant supervision.

Sighing, he picked her up and left to find the others.

“Bird!”

The moment Yin’er spotted Ji Ji flying beside Jin Shu, she came barreling in out of nowhere in her true form, set on a collision course with the tiny chick.

“Hic!” Ji Ji choked. “Cat!”

She beat her tiny wings frantically, scrambling upward—surely out of reach.

“Haha! Stupid cats can’t fly, so I’m safe up here!” she crowed arrogantly.

On the ground, Yin’er only smirked. Her silver wings unfurled with a flash, and with a single powerful beat she shot into the sky like a storm.

“Ahh! Flying cat!” Ji Ji screeched, flapping desperately. But her little wings were far too slow.

In an instant, Yin’er caught up. Mid-flight she shifted into her human form, snatching Ji Ji clean out of the air.

“Tiny bird!” she exclaimed gleefully, spinning midair with Ji Ji clutched tight in her hands.

“Yin’er, let Ji Ji go!” Jin Shu called, but she was far too delighted to listen, twirling through the sky with her prize.

“Ow!” Yin’er yelped, shaking her hand as a tiny chick clamped down on her finger and refused to let go.

After a few vigorous shakes, Ji Ji was finally flung loose, tumbling head over tailfeathers before catching herself midair. She glared at Yin’er warily.

“Where’d that stupid cat go?” she muttered, then puffed out her chest proudly. “Hah! The invincible Ji Ji must have scared it away!”

“Haha, you just spoke in the third person. Even Yin’er doesn’t do that anymore after her lessons.” Yin’er crossed her arms, wings beating lazily to keep her aloft.

“Who’s Yin’er?” Ji Ji asked, tilting her head.

“I’m Yin’er.” She jabbed a thumb at herself.

“Then you just speak in the third person…”

“Nuh-uh!”

“Yeah-huh!”

“Did not!”

“Did too!”

Jin Shu pinched the bridge of his nose. I really should have known this was going to happen when I brought a bird home…

“Hmph! Stupid bird.” Yin’er huffed and dropped down onto Jin Shu’s shoulder.

“Hey! That’s my shoulder!” Ji Ji squawked, swooping down over her head.

“Daddy’s shoulder is mine!” Yin’er declared.

“Daddy?” Ji Ji froze midair, blinking between Jin Shu and Yin’er. “But… you don’t look alike.”

Should I stop this conversation? Jin Shu winced, unsure how Yin’er would take this. But decided not to stop it in the end.

“Why should we?” Yin’er blinked back, genuinely confused.

“Well… when a baby’s born, it usually looks a little like its parents… I think?” Ji Ji said uncertainly. She pointed an accusing wing. “You’ve got a tail and fluffy cat ears, but Jin Shu doesn’t have any of those.”

Her eyes went wide.

“Wait! You have cat ears and a tail! You’re that stupid cat!”

“I’m not a cat, I’m a tiger!” Yin’er snapped.

“Oh… not a cat, but a tiger? Is there a difference?”

“Of course!” Yin’er nodded solemnly. “Cats are small. Tigers are big.”

“…I see.” Ji Ji blinked slowly. “That makes sense.”

Jin Shu dragged a hand down his face. No, it doesn’t. Not even remotely.