11. Tattoos
Argh!
A guttural scream ripped through the silent workshop as Jin Shu began cultivating the Body Inscribing Art.
Searing pain tore through his body, the qi within him burning like molten lava as it coursed under his skin. His entire frame trembled, sweat pouring from his brow as his vision blurred. Every nerve in his body screamed in protest, urging him to stop.
Each stroke of qi felt like a blazing blade carving through his flesh—searing not just his skin but his muscles, nerves, and even his bones. The intricate lines of the dragon's serpentine body, the tiger's fierce stripes, and the swirling clouds demanded precision and finesse. This wasn't mere craftsmanship; it was a grueling battle of will against unbearable agony.
Jin Shu gasped for air, his hands clenched into fists so tightly that his nails pierced his palms. Blood dripped to the floor, pooling beneath him. The faint glow of the design on his body taunted him, its ethereal radiance a stark contrast to his suffering.
"I... can't," he whispered, his voice trembling. The pain threatened to overwhelm him, a wave of nausea rising in his stomach. His resolve faltered as despair crept into his thoughts.
Then, a memory flashed before his eyes—his mother’s determined smile as she left to fight against demonic cultivators. Her fierce resolve ignited something within him. Jin Shu clenched his jaw, forcing his trembling body to steady.
"No," he growled through gritted teeth. "Power isn’t a luxury—it’s survival."
The image of his past life surfaced—the battles he’d fought, the monsters he’d slain. Though the enemies of his previous life were absent here, the challenges were no less daunting. Mythical beasts and immortals would demand strength beyond his current limits. His mother was out there, fighting an enemy he had never seen. The thought of her being hurt fueled a rage that burned hotter than the qi in his veins.
He slammed his fist against the worktable, shattering it into splinters. A roar tore from his throat as the dragon’s claws took shape on his skin, fierce and unyielding. The tiger’s fangs gleamed with latent strength. The mountain stood tall and unbroken, surrounded by ethereal clouds. Each stroke of qi carved a piece of his soul into the design, binding his will to his craft.
The agony was indescribable, yet Jin Shu pressed on. With each completed line, a new surge of power coursed through him. Finally, after what felt like an eternity, the last stroke was carved.
Jin Shu collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath. The tattoos on his body glowed faintly, their intricate details shimmering with latent power. He traced a trembling hand over the designs, feeling the residual heat radiating from his skin.
He had done it.
Qi began to gush into the room, whipping up a small dust cloud. It poured into his body, settling in his dantian. His cultivation quickly grew from the 4th stage to the 6th stage of the Qi Realm.
Through the haze of exhaustion, a faint smile crept across his lips. The pain had been unbearable, but the power etched into his being was undeniable.
“This is just the beginning,” he whispered hoarsely. “I’ll endure whatever it takes... to protect everything I hold dear.”
The tattoos pulsed, as if answering his resolve. Jin Shu gritted his teeth and forced himself to his feet. This was only the foundation. Next would come the runes, a task that would demand even more from him.
But for now, rest was essential. His flesh burned as though it were on fire; he doubted he could survive another attempt. He picked up the snoring Yin'er, who had somehow slept through his screams, and left the workshop.
----------------------------------------
Over the next few days, Jin Shu refrained from inscribing more runes, waiting for the burning pain of his tattoos to subside. Instead, he immersed himself in studying the runes detailed in the compendium. Mastery would be crucial if he wanted to engrave them onto his body.
The Body Inscribing Art only provided a specific set of runes for each realm of cultivation, limiting him to two sets at his current level. To access more powerful or unique runes, Jin Shu would need to learn and perfect them separately.
Fortunately, the runes from the Body Inscribing Art came with detailed instructions, unlike the compendium’s runes, which required painstaking practice to master. With the aid of Nano and the Nanophone, Jin Shu could accelerate the learning process significantly.
----------------------------------------
“It only took me a week to master six new runes and four older ones. That’s got to be a record,” Jin Shu mused, admiring the ten perfectly inscribed holographic runes before him.
Taking a deep breath, he sighed heavily. “Time to inscribe the first set of runes.”
He activated his qi, letting it flow through his meridians. Slowly at first, then faster, the qi grew hotter until it seared every part of his body it touched.
“Aah! It burns—like fire in my veins!” Jin Shu’s screams echoed in the workshop. He bit his lip so hard that blood dripped down his chin, but it did little to suppress his cries.
“Would you like me to temporarily suppress your pain receptors?”
“You can do that?” Jin Shu rasped, his voice strained.
“Yes, but it is risky. Prolonged suppression could harm your body.”
“Do i—no!” he interrupted, shaking his head. “If I can’t handle this, I’ll end up relying on your help. I won’t let myself become weak.”
Nano momentarily suppressed the pain, but Jin Shu immediately regretted it. He had seen people grow addicted to such relief, their willpower eroded. He couldn’t allow himself to follow that path.
The pain returned with vengeance, eliciting a guttural roar as Jin Shu pressed on. His qi carved deep black grooves into his flesh, shaping the foundational Life-Giving Rune. This rune would not only bring life to the tattoos on his back but also empower every rune that followed.
Compared to the tattoo’s intricate details, inscribing runes was a less taxing process. In a fraction of the time, Jin Shu completed the Life-Giving Rune.
This time, no tables were broken. The memory of having to order a new worktable after his last outburst had been embarrassing enough.
Jin Shu stood back, inspecting the glowing rune in a mirror he had placed to the side so he could observe the runes. A smile tugged at his lips despite the lingering pain. “One down,” he muttered. “Though this is only the beginning.”
The next rune was a Body Strengthening Rune. It would strengthen his entire body, mainly his flesh and bones so they could hold up against subsequent runes. Without this rune the normal human body would eventually give out under the strain of the runes inscribing process. Though Jin Shu didn't need to worry as much as others due to having nanobots to continuously heal his strained body.
Jin Shu slumped against the wall of his workshop, the glow of the Life-Giving Rune on his back slowly dimming as it settled into his flesh. His breath came in ragged gasps, his entire body trembling from the ordeal. For now, the pain was manageable—just a dull throb compared to the earlier torment.
A faint yawn broke through the silence.
Jin Shu’s gaze shifted to Yin’er, who was stretching her tiny paws as she blinked sleepily. She rubbed her eyes with her fluffy tail, whiskers twitching. She tilted her head, regarding him with a mix of curiosity and concern.
“You’re awake,” he muttered, his voice hoarse.
Yin’er scampered closer, sitting her small body on his lap and sniffed the air, wrinkling her nose. “Daddy smell like… burning?” She said in a childish voice.
Jin Shu let out a tired laugh. “I do, don't I?” It took him a moment, but he freaked out a second later. “Wait! You can talk!?”
She tilted her head, staring up at him with confusion covering her furry little face. “Yin’er can talk? Oh! Yin’er can talk!” She laughed and flapped her little wings in excitement.
Nano, how is she speaking? Jin Shu asked with his thoughts.
“Unknown. Insufficient data.”
You could have just said ‘I don't know.’
“We believe it may have to do with the connection you two share, however we will need to do more research to find the exact cause of her accelerated speech.”
Settling down a moment later, Yin’er tilted her head, her whiskers twitching as she shifted in his lap. “Daddy look super tired. Daddy fight a scary beastie?”
“No beasties,” Jin Shu replied, leaning his head back against the wall. “Just me... pushing myself.”
Yin’er tapped his arm with her tiny paw, her wide eyes sparkling with curiosity. “Yin’er see Daddy’s glowy back! It so shiny! Did hurt? Did Daddy cry?”
“Cry?” Jin Shu huffed, managing a faint smile despite the exhaustion. “No. But it wasn’t fun.”
“Yin’er think Daddy look like he want to cry now,” she said, her voice softening as her ears drooped. “Why Daddy hurt himself? Yin’er not like it.”
This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.
Jin Shu glanced down at her, her innocent concern cutting through his fatigue. “I have to, Yin’er. To get stronger. So I can protect the people I care about.”
Yin’er frowned, puffing out her cheeks. “But if Daddy get too hurty, who will protect Daddy? Yin’er can’t do all by herself!”
Her words made him pause. He reached out a trembling hand to pat her head, his fingers brushing against her soft fur. “Don’t worry, Yin’er. I’ll be fine. I’ve been through worse.”
Yin’er tilted her head again, her tail swishing as she studied his face. “Hmm… Yin’er think Daddy being silly. Daddy should take nap! Nap make everything better!”
He chuckled weakly. “A nap does sound good right about now.”
“Yin’er is smart, huh?” she said proudly, her ears perking up. She crawled up onto his shoulder and curled around his neck like a tiny scarf. “Yin’er stay here and keep Daddy safe while he nap. No beasties get past Yin’er!”
Jin Shu couldn’t help but smile. “Thanks, Yin’er. I’ll rest for a bit.”
As her soft breathing settled into a gentle rhythm, Jin Shu closed his eyes, allowing himself a rare moment of peace. Yin’er’s child-like curiosity and unwavering loyalty reminded him of why he endured this pain. With her by his side, the weight of his burdens felt just a little lighter.
12. Grandfather
Over the course of two weeks, Jin Shu inscribed three new runes onto his body: the Body Strengthening Rune, the Qi Compression Rune, and the Qi Gathering Rune.
The Qi Compression Rune, as its name suggested, compressed his qi, temporarily lowering his cultivation by two stages, back to the 4th stage. However, this compression made his qi twice as potent as that of someone at the same level.
The Qi Gathering Rune allowed him to absorb qi at twice the normal rate, accelerating his cultivation speed. While impressive, it wasn’t extraordinary—his mother had once explained that the signature cultivation technique of the Immortal Phoenix Sect allowed disciples to cultivate four times faster. Unfortunately, only women could practice that technique; otherwise, she would have given it to him long ago.
Jin Shu was now searching for his father. He wanted to craft a special weapon as a gift for his mother when she returned. Though he wasn’t certain how effective a modern weapon would be against someone at her level of cultivation, the thought of her having another means of defense—especially something unique to this world—gave him peace of mind. Even if it only caught an enemy off guard, it would be worth the effort.
As he walked through the winding paths of the Jin manor, servants bowed quickly as he passed, calling out, “Young Master Jin!” He found their flattery odd. He didn’t particularly like it, but he couldn’t say he disliked it either.
The dual memories from his two lives often left him in conflict. On most matters, they aligned seamlessly, but on others, they clashed, stirring up a confusing mix of emotions.
Pushing those thoughts aside, Jin Shu focused on his current task: finding his father to gain access to the family's storage for the materials he needed.
Yet, for some reason, his father was nowhere to be found. Jin Shu had checked all the usual places—his parents’ courtyard, his father’s personal workshop, and even the outdoor forge. Each time, he came up empty-handed. If his father wasn’t out of the manor, there was only one other place left to check: his grandfather’s throne room.
Unlike others, who would face execution for possessing a throne, Jin Shu’s grandfather was an exception. The throne had been a gift from the late emperor himself, and the current emperor—a man Jin Shu called "uncle"—would never dare object. After all, Jin Shu’s mother, beloved by nobles and commoners alike, was the emperor’s doted-upon sister. She was untouchable, a living legend in her own right.
When Jin Shu finally arrived at the throne room, he found his father—or what was left of him. Lying in a puddle of blood at the center of the hall was his hulking figure.
For most, the sight would have been horrifying. For Jin Shu, it was an all-too-familiar scene. His father cultivated a bizarre technique that tempered his body like a blade—through relentless beatings. Normally, his mother handled this grueling task, but with her absent, the responsibility fell to someone stronger. The only suitable candidate in the city was Jin Shu’s grandfather, a cultivator at the 1st stage of the Spirit Realm.
At the far end of the throne room, seated atop a grand, ornate throne, was the very man in question. Jin Shu’s grandfather exuded an imposing aura, his hulking frame resting against the carved armrests as if the throne itself were barely sturdy enough to support him.
“Greetings, Grandfather.” Jin Shu bowed deeply, his voice clear and respectful.
Looking at his grandfather was like seeing an older version of his father. Their resemblance was uncanny—both stood over two meters tall, with bulging muscles that called to mind Earth’s strongest bodybuilders. They shared the same rugged features and bushy beards, though Jin Shu’s grandfather’s was streaked with light gray, contrasting with his father’s jet-black whiskers.
Jin Shu couldn’t help but feel a pang of gratitude that he had inherited his mother’s appearance. While his father and grandfather were undeniably handsome in a hulking, brutish way, Jin Shu stood apart. Tall and lean, his fair skin carried only a light tan from countless hours at the forge. His features were sharp, refined, and striking—far more reminiscent of his mother’s beauty than the rugged, almost primal looks of his male relatives.
The only similarities he shared with his father and grandfather were his height and to a lesser degree, his skin tone. Otherwise, he couldn’t have been more different—a fact for which he was quietly thankful.
Jin Shu was waiting for a response, but none came.
“Big guys are sleepies,” Yin’er said softly from her perch on his shoulder, her voice carrying a mix of curiosity and amusement.
He glanced at his grandfather and noticed the old man’s eyes were shut, his chest rising and falling in time with the faint sound of snoring. As for his father, he remained sprawled on the floor, clearly unconscious—no doubt due to the sizable lump on the back of his head.
“Well,” Jin Shu muttered, “let me just get the key to the storage. I’m sure they wouldn’t mind.”
He crouched beside his father and carefully rummaged through his robes. After a moment, his fingers brushed against a set of keys. Pulling them free, he stood and turned to leave—only to hear the faint creak of wood shifting behind him.
“Big guy wakie,” Yin’er whispered from her perch on his shoulder.
Before Jin Shu could react, something hard struck the back of his head.
Whack!
A sharp pain exploded as Jin Shu saw stars. He stumbled forward, collapsing onto his hands and knees, the keys slipping from his grasp.
“Where are you off to, little thief?” A booming voice echoed through the throne room, carrying both authority and irritation.
Jin Shu shook his head, blinking away the dizziness. As his vision stabilized, he looked up to see a massive shadow looming over him. His grandfather, towering and imposing, stood with piercing eyes locked on him. In one hand, he held a dragon-headed wooden cane, still raised and ready to strike again.
“Oh, it’s you.” The older man lowered the cane, his expression softening. “What are you doing here, grandson?”
Jin Shu rubbed the sore spot on his head as he rose to his feet, careful to maintain a respectful tone despite his irritation. “I came to ask for permission to access the storage,” he explained. “I need special metals for a weapon I’m crafting for Mother.”
His grandfather's stern expression melted into approval. “A gift for your mother, eh? Admirable. You have my permission.” He turned to retrieve something from beside the throne, then gestured toward the keys now lying on the floor. “But no sneaking around next time. Speak up like a man. If you’re caught skulking, I’ll assume you’re up to no good.”
“Yes, Grandfather.” Jin Shu bowed, suppressing a sigh as he picked up the keys. He should have known his grandfather wouldn’t let anything slide.
“Here.” The older man extended his hand, a rope holding a key dangling before Jin Shu’s eyes.
Jin Shu frowned slightly, taking the key with uncertainty. “What is this?”
“It’s the key to my personal storage. You can ask the chief steward for its location.”
Jin Shu bowed deeply. “Thank you, Grandfather!” He turned, eager to leave, but paused when he felt his grandfather’s gaze still locked on him.
“Hold on a moment.” His grandfather stepped closer, eyes narrowing. “Your qi... It feels different.”
Jin Shu straightened, tilting his head. “Different how?”
The older man’s eyes sharpened further as he evaluated his grandson. “You’ve advanced,” he said after a moment. “You’re at the 4th stage of the Qi Realm.”
Jin Shu nodded. “Yes, I made a breakthrough a little less than two weeks ago.”
“Two weeks ago?” His grandfather’s brows shot up in disbelief. “You’ve reached the 4th stage in just two weeks since breaking through to the Qi Realm from the Body Realm? That’s...” He trailed off, astonishment evident. “That’s unheard of.”
Jin Shu hesitated. He hadn’t planned to reveal the runes inscribed on his body, knowing his grandfather might react with skepticism—or worse, disapproval. But under the weight of his grandfather’s intense gaze, he felt compelled to explain at least part of the truth.
“I stumbled upon a fortuitous encounter,” he said cautiously. “And I’ve been using some... unique methods to enhance my cultivation.”
“Unique methods?” His grandfather raised a bushy eyebrow. “What kind of methods?”
After a moment of deliberation, Jin Shu said, “I discovered a cultivation technique that requires me to inscribe runes on my body. Namely, the Qi Gathering Rune and the Qi Compression Rune. Together, they help me cultivate faster and strengthen my qi.”
His grandfather stroked his beard thoughtfully. “Runes, hmm? Interesting. That’s not a path I’ve heard of. But use caution—rushing ahead without understanding the risks can be dangerous.”
“I know,” Jin Shu said, meeting his grandfather’s gaze with determination. “But it’s effective. And if I want to protect Mother—and this family—I can’t afford to be ordinary.”
The older man studied him for a long moment before nodding. “Good,” he said simply. “You have ambition, and you’re willing to take risks. But be careful, Jin Shu. Ambition without discipline is a blade without a hilt—it’ll cut you down just as easily as your enemies.”
Jin Shu bowed again. “Thank you for your guidance, Grandfather.”
“Go on, then. Collect your materials. But come back when you’re done—I want to see how you’re progressing.”
“Yes, Grandfather,” Jin Shu said, stepping back.
“Wait!” his grandfather called out again, making a grasping motion with his hand.
To Jin Shu’s shock, Yin’er suddenly appeared in the old man’s open palm. She was too stunned to protest, her fur bristling as she looked around in confusion.
“Grandfather?” Jin Shu asked cautiously, worry tightening in his chest.
“Hmm?” The older man glanced at him and chuckled at his expression. “Ah, don’t worry, I won’t harm your little pet.”
“Thank you,” Jin Shu said, relief washing over him.
“Was this the fortuitous encounter you spoke of?”
“Um, partially, yes.”
“I see. I heard her talking. What an interesting little creature.”
“Yin’er not a little creature! Yin’er is Yin’er!” she growled, puffing up indignantly.
His grandfather’s booming laugh filled the room. “Ahahaha! Fierce, isn’t she? I like her!”
Yin’er puffed out her chest proudly, her tiny face alight with satisfaction.
“Alright, go on now.”
Jin Shu turned and left the throne room, Yin’er quietly chittering her approval as she settled back onto his shoulder.
As he walked, Jin Shu felt a flicker of pride. His grandfather’s acknowledgment wasn’t given lightly, and it strengthened his resolve. There was much to do, and little time to waste.