The spirit-train departed Fleshmarket by nightfall.

It was hideously overcrowded. Its wagons were meant to house a few dozen passengers at most, not five times that number of people with all the belongings that they could bring with them. Orient had to set aside space in the luggage, panoramic, and restaurant cars to host everyone.

For his part, Yuan ended up relocating to the engine room at the train’s front alongside Holster and Arc. The latter sat on a bench next to the former, who held her arm and served as a stabilizing influence for her broken bullet-core. Holster managed to suppress Arc’s Authority back inside her body, though Yuan could tell from the sweat on his charge’s forehead that it strained her to her limit.

As for Yuan, he spent most of his time cycling his qi. His Third Coil body presented so many changes.

He healed frighteningly fast for a start. His broken ribs put themselves back together in minutes and a single qi cycling session stitched back all the wounds he sustained from his drawn-out fight with Gayak and Gatling Man.

However, it didn’t heal the way a human’s body should. Strong yet incredibly flexible black metal skin replaced the scar tissue that should have grown on his chest, ankle, and where he took heavy wounds. His veins had taken on a steely hue, their coils transforming into barreled conduits carrying liquid gunpowder through his body. When Yuan cycled his qi, his muscles now felt closer to intertwined triggers, pistons, and other mechanical contraptions than pieces of flesh. His wounded lungs roared like engines inside his rib cage each time he took a breath, and he always exhaled gunsmoke now.

Yuan's nerves had transformed into circuits that further heightened his senses. Everything felt so goddamn slow around him, like his mind processed time at a much quicker pace than most. He picked up on things he didn’t before, like subtle changes in temperature and vibrations in the air. His vision had sharpened to the point he could see in the dark. He’d also noticed holes forming in the center of his palms and feet; hidden exhaust ports meant to help him with the Recoil Fist.

Yuan was slowly transforming into a creature better suited to use the Gun Path’s techniques. His bullet-core replaced his flesh with firearm pieces the way a borg replaced each part of his anatomy with electronic devices.

Yuan knew that walking the Path of the Gun meant to become a human weapon, but the more he progressed on it, the less ‘human’ and the more ‘weapon’ he became. He couldn’t pass for a Scrap anymore.

What would he look like once he completed the process?

Yuan used to think he was transforming into something beyond humanity, if it meant gaining the power to slay the likes of Slash and Gayak. Seeing the Gun in all of its monstrous glory made him wonder.

Yuan didn’t care how he looked, but he wished to remain himself. He didn’t want his new body to alter his mind.

He didn’t want to think like a gun.

The wagon’s door opened and Orient walked in with a food platter. The portions were small and mostly contained a mix of gruel and bread. They had started rationing due to lack of supplies.

“My apologies for the dinner’s delay,” Orient said with creased eyes and pallid skin. Yuan knew that her human avatar was a mere projection of the train itself, but it showed all the symptoms of fatigue nonetheless. “Completing the food inventory for all passengers and rationing accordingly took more time than I expected.”

“It’s fine, Orient,” Yuan reassured her while Holster hungrily grabbed a piece of bread. “We all know you’re doing your best.”

“I fear that my best is not enough, Honored Passenger Yuan.” Orient gave Arc a worried, stressed glance. “My infrastructure cannot support so many passengers, and Lady Arc’s presence inflicts a heavy strain on me even with Miss Holster’s assistance. Having her Authority pushing out from within me is… distressing.”

Arc, who had mostly kept to herself so far, let out a shrug. “I’ll climb off once we reach the leyline locus. I just need a lift to ration my qi so I won’t collapse and unleash my Authority before I can reach it.”

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Holster looked up at her without a word. Arc’s head tilted slightly in her direction. Could she communicate with her the same way Orient did?

“No,” Arc said sternly. Yuan guessed that Holster offered to serve as her anchor. “You shouldn’t spend your life serving as an old ghost’s crutch.”

Holster bit her lips, but continued to stare at Arc with insistence. It failed to move her.

Orient turned to stare at Yuan, her hands joining together. She looked quite anxious. “Forgive me for interrupting your cycling session, Honored Guest Yuan, but may I ask you a question?”

Yuan frowned. He had never heard Orient sound so stressed. “Go on.”

“I am a spirit-train. My purpose is to carry my passengers to their chosen destination.” Orient turned to stare at the door leading to the other wagons. “But these people have nowhere to go. Their home has been destroyed and no one can think of a place to seek refuge in, nor will their current supplies sustain them for long.”

Yuan clenched his jaw. The same thoughts had crossed his mind too. He tried to tell himself he didn’t owe these refugees anything, that giving them a lift was already a pretty big favor, but he couldn’t lie to himself. He had unknowingly contributed to Fleshmarket’s destruction by helping lure the Gun to it.

He couldn’t just wash his hands of a mess he’d helped start.

“What am I supposed to do, Honored Guest Yuan?” Orient asked him, pleading for directions. “Where am I supposed to go next?”

“I…” Yuan tried to come up with something and came up short. The only settlement in the region large enough to possibly house these refugees would be Battletown. While they were bound to visit it anyway, everything he’d heard about the Yinyang Khan suggested it would be a terrible idea. The passengers would either end up as slaves or victims.

He wanted to say he had no idea yet. Yuan was never comfortable in a leadership role and usually defaulted to Mingxia’s judgment back when they were a team. He simply wasn’t cut out for the job.

However, a look at Orient’s distraught expression convinced him to think this through. She looked so lost and desperate for an answer that he didn’t have the heart to leave her hanging.

Yuan considered their options. Finding a safe refuge for their passengers was a relatively long-term priority. Keeping them alive in the short-term would require both supplies and space.

An idea crossed Yuan’s mind. “Can you grow longer, Orient? Gain more wagons?”

She frowned at him. “I cannot create new cars, but I can assimilate existing ones.”

“Is there any place where we can salvage those then, alongside supplies?” Yuan asked. “Maybe at one of those stations where you usually stop by?”

“Yes, I think so.” The fact Yuan had a plan in mind reassured and energized Orient. “One should be on the way to Battletown. Now that Lady Arc no longer obstructs the leyline, I can make a stop there.”

“Then let’s do so,” Yuan decided. “It will take time to find a refuge where we can drop off our new passengers, so we’d be better off adapting your facilities to house more people until we can figure things out. Maybe equip you with weapons to ward off marauders.”

“You should drop me off behind you once you reach the leyline focus,” Arc said. “I’ll stay there and stabilize my Authority again.”

“I can’t let Revolver suffer forever,” Yuan replied. “There has to be a way to land your Perfect Shot and free him, and you’re going to help me.”

“I will abide by our agreement to teach you my techniques, but I cannot leave the leyline without causing my Authority to go haywire,” Arc warned him, ignoring the insistent look Holster sent her. “And I refuse to use a Human Pillar. I ain’t a fiend.”

Yuan crossed his arms and pondered the problem. This presented quite the issue. They would have to stay on the move to find supplies, and the spirit-train couldn’t exactly run back and forth for him to attend Arc’s lessons. Though he felt he owed the refugees his help, killing Slash, freeing Revolver from the Gun, and fulfilling his oath to Arc to hunt down Manhattan remained his priorities for now.

Orient noticed his concern and then clapped her hands. “May I suggest an alternative?”

Arc tilted her head in her direction, suddenly curious. “An alternative?”

“Honored Passenger Yuan’s wise suggestion gave me an idea,” Orient said. “I suspect Miss Holster and I could reshape one of my cars to serve as a special Barrier that would stabilize Lady Arc’s Authority.”

Yuan raised an eyebrow. “Is that even possible?”

“You won’t survive it, spirit,” Arc replied. “You said it yourself. Holding me strains you enough as it is, even with the girl’s assistance.”

“Because none of my infrastructure is designed to hold you,” Orient replied confidently. “With the correct feng shui arrangement and sutras scripts, I believe I could design a car that would serve as your bullet-core’s anchor. It would diminish my speed, since I would need to fuel its Barrier with qi from the leyline I use to travel, and you will be forced to stay within its confines so as not to endanger my body’s integrity or the other passengers–”

“But you could transport her around,” Yuan said, his body shivering with enthusiasm. This would neatly solve their problems all at once.

Arc shrugged with skepticism, though she didn’t close the door on the proposal. “I don’t care whether I stay put in one place or if you carry me around in a box,” she said. “If you succeed, then sure, I’ll go along.”

“Then we have a plan,” Yuan decided. “We’ll drop you off at the leyline focus for a time, visit the station, and see what we can salvage from there.”

They would figure out what to do with their passengers afterwards.