Runes • Rifles • Reincarnation

Jin Shu’s ear twitched as chaos erupted behind him. He thought he heard Yin’er shouting, but with Huai Jiahou staring him down, he couldn’t afford even a moment’s distraction.

Hundreds of calculations raced through his mind. He needed to predict the man’s next move—determine which direction he’d dodge, how far, and how many shots it would take to neutralize him. Against someone in the Core Realm, he doubted a single shot would suffice.

Releasing a steadying breath, Jin Shu squeezed the trigger.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The muzzle flashed, sending three spiraling bullets screaming from the barrel in rapid succession. The spent casings hadn’t even clattered to the ground before he fired twice more.

Bang! Bang!

Huai Jiahou moved with eerie precision, his strange footwork allowing him to dodge the first three shots with ease, retreating farther than expected. The last two bullets hit, but they only tore through his voluminous robes, failing to so much as graze him.

Jin Shu shifted his stance, readying his aim for another volley. But before he could fire, Huai Jiahou was suddenly a half-step away. Jin Shu’s instincts kicked in, and he backpedaled furiously—he couldn’t let the man close the distance.

A palm strike crashed down, missing him by a hair’s breadth. The resulting shockwave exploded the floorboards with a thunderous roar, rivaling the sound of gunfire. That wasn’t even a direct hit; it was just the qi and wind pressure.

If that strike had landed… Jin Shu didn’t doubt he’d be obliterated on the spot.

His breath quickened as he kept retreating, barely evading the relentless assault. A fleeting glance over his shoulder showed the crowd finally scattering, belatedly but thankfully clearing the battlefield. Yet, in the midst of the chaos, Biyu, Sun Li, and Yin’er remained locked in combat with the other assailants.

There was no time to process their situation. Jin Shu focused on dodging Huai Jiahou’s strikes, each one coming closer than the last. By the second attack, he realized the truth: Huai Jiahou was toying with him. The man was deliberately telegraphing his moves, letting Jin Shu slip away at the last moment.

Jin Shu’s jaw tightened. If he didn’t act while Huai Jiahou was still cocky, he wouldn’t get another chance.

Huai Jiahou raised his hands, a smug grin spreading across his face. “Young man, why don’t we call it a day, hm?” His hands lowered slowly, the confidence in his demeanor unshaken. “You and I both know what happens if I get serious.”

Jin Shu halted, his pistol still leveled at the man. His breathing was steady despite the adrenaline coursing through him. “Fine. I could use the breather. So, what do you have to say?”

Huai Jiahou’s grin widened. “You’re sharp. Jin Shu, the Young Master of the Jin family, and Princess Sun Mei’er’s son.” His gaze shifted to the pistol in Jin Shu’s hands, eyes narrowing slightly. “That weapon must be one of your family’s inventions?”

Jin Shu shrugged nonchalantly. “Something like that.”

Huai Jiahou chuckled, his tone turning conspiratorial. “With weapons like those, outfitting our faction—and eventually our army—would be trivial. The Emperor’s throne would fall before us, and the western region would be ours.” He extended a hand, his voice smooth and tempting. “Wouldn’t you like to be a part of that? A legacy of conquest?”

“Conquest?” Jin Shu scoffed, waving him off. “Nah. Been there, done that. Not interested.”

Huai Jiahou’s smile faltered, his expression darkening. “You should reconsider. If you value your life.”

Jin Shu smirked, pulling his left hand away from his pistol grip. In an instant, a pink Glock materialized in his hand. He leveled both pistols at Huai Jiahou. “If I were you, I’d be more worried about myself.”

Huai Jiahou flinched as the two barrels trained on him.

Jin Shu exhaled and pulled both triggers.

Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!

The hallway echoed with a cacophony of gunfire. Huai Jiahou darted left and right in a desperate bid to evade the storm of bullets. His once-pristine robes were shredded, streaks of blood splattering across the floor.

Jin Shu fired relentlessly, pistols clicking empty after the barrage. Without hesitation, he ejected the magazines, flipping the weapons upside down as fresh mags materialized midair, dropping neatly into the magwells. He smacked the bottom of the mags together and reengaged the slides in one smooth motion.

The pistols rose again.

Bang! Bang!

Huai Jiahou stumbled as the bullets struck, his qi barrier absorbing one, but the second punched through, sinking into his chest and spraying blood.

Bang! Bang!

Two more shots landed, halting his advance entirely.

Bang! Bang!

Huai Jiahou dropped to his knees, his ragged breathing audible in the sudden quiet. He glared up at Jin Shu, hatred burning in his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak, but blood gurgled from his lips instead, choking his words.

His trembling hand reached forward, stopping just inches from Jin Shu. With a final, futile gasp, his body collapsed, crashing lifelessly to the shattered bloodstained floorboards.

Jin Shu whipped around, scanning the state of the other battlefield.

Biyu stood with her palm extended, fiery qi dissipating from her strike. The man she’d hit flew backward, crashing into the floorboards with a sickening thud. He didn’t rise again. Whether he was dead or simply immobilized, Jin Shu couldn’t tell.

Nearby, Sun Li hovered protectively behind Biyu, her gaze wary.

As for the other assailant... Jin Shu’s stomach churned at the sight. Yin’er sat on the man’s chest, her small paws drenched in blood. The once-silver fur covering her body was sticky and red, a gruesome contrast to her usual pristine appearance. She was licking blood from her claws, a macabre picture of innocence.

Jin Shu could only hope the blood wasn’t hers.

He approached cautiously. Yin’er spotted him first, her golden eyes lighting up. “Daddy!” she cried, leaping off the lifeless body with startling enthusiasm.

She shot toward him like a blood-soaked missile, aiming for his face.

Jin Shu sidestepped her charge with practiced ease, catching her by the scruff of her neck mid-air.

“Why. Are. You. Covered. In. Blood?” he asked, his voice calm, but the scary smile on his face didn’t reach his eyes.

Yin’er, oblivious to his dark expression, wriggled in his grip with excitement. “Yin’er beat up the bad guy!” she exclaimed proudly, baring her teeth and claws as she spoke. Jin Shu winced, noticing specks of flesh stuck between them.

“Are you hurt?” His tone softened, a hint of worry creeping in.

“Nope!” Yin’er beamed, puffing out her tiny chest. “Bad guy was too weak!” She looked utterly comical dangling from his grasp like a mischievous cub.

“That’s good,” he said with a sigh of relief, before his tone turned stern. “But no more fighting. You could get seriously hurt.”

“Nuh-uh,” she argued, shaking her head vigorously. “Yin’er is super strong!”

He sighed again, this time deeper. “Still, it’s dangerous. You need to leave the fighting to me.”

“But Daddy was fighting the bad guys, so Yin’er wanted to help!” she said, pouting.

Bam!

The sudden sound drew Jin Shu’s attention.

His head snapped toward Biyu, who stood over the second attacker. Her palm hovered over his now-crushed skull, blood pooling beneath it. Jin Shu frowned. That wasn’t like her. What could’ve made her do that?

As she turned around, he saw the answer—or part of it. Her veil had been sliced and now hung loosely at the side, revealing a long, bleeding wound on her cheek.

Jin Shu’s frown deepened. What had happened while he was occupied?

Jin Shu approached the other two, Yin’er still dangling by the scruff of her neck in his grip. As he passed the mangled body of the man she had apparently killed, his eyes lingered on the vicious claw and fang marks marring what little remained of intact flesh.

He glanced down at the blood-soaked cub swinging innocently in his hand, calmly licking her paws as if nothing had happened.

Note to self. Never piss Yin’er off.

He made a mental note. No, better yet, he’d leave that to Nano, the mini-supercomputer nestled in his dantian.

“This wasn’t even her pissed off,” Nano replied flatly, the voice reverberating in his mind.

Jin Shu paused mid-step, a shiver creeping down his spine. You’re right. Doubly make sure I never piss her off.

Sun Li finally noticed his approach. Her face brightened, and she rushed toward him.

“Shu-gege!” she shouted, her voice tinged with relief.

She attempted to throw her arms around him, but Jin Shu sidestepped her with the same ease he had Yin’er moments earlier.

Her momentum carried her forward, and she tripped, headed face-first for the bloodied floorboards.

With a swift motion, Jin Shu reached out and caught her by the collar, hauling her back upright.

Now, with Yin’er dangling from one hand and Sun Li dangling from the other, Jin Shu looked like a parent carrying two misbehaving kittens. At least, that’s what it would look like to any outsider.

He didn’t pause, continuing forward until he stood before Biyu.

“Are you okay?” Jin Shu asked, his voice calm, though his gaze lingered on the bleeding wound along her cheek. His chest tightened as he watched a drop of blood trail down her chin, adding yet another splash of red to the already stained floorboards.

“Mm, I’m fine. This little wound is nothing,” Biyu replied nonchalantly, dabbing at it with her sleeve.

“If you say so.” Her reassurance didn’t ease the knot in his chest, but at least she seemed otherwise unharmed. Trying to shift focus, he asked, “What was that last blow about?”

Her expression turned cold. “I couldn’t leave his brain intact. Demonic cultivators have methods to search the memories of the dead—and he saw my face.”

“Demonic cultivators?” Jin Shu frowned, gesturing toward the two lifeless bodies on the ground. “You’re saying they were?”

“Yes. Look here.” She crouched beside one of the corpses, pointing to the dagger clutched in its stiffening hand. “Do you see this symbol? That’s the Sign of the Demon. It marks disciples of the Demonic Cult.”

Jin Shu leaned in to get a closer look. The symbol etched into the blade was unsettlingly familiar, resembling the imagery of devils and demons from Western Earth's mythology. A twisted face sneered from the hilt, with an upside-down cross etched into its forehead.

“That’s...charming,” Jin Shu muttered.

Biyu stood, brushing off her robes as though she hadn’t just crushed a man’s skull. “It’s not uncommon. The Demonic Cult is becoming bolder these days.”

Jin Shu’s jaw tightened as unbidden thoughts of his mother and her desperate battle against the Demonic Cultivators surged through his mind.

He needed answers. Soon. Otherwise, the gnawing anxiety threatening to consume him might drive him mad.