By the afternoon of the seventh and final day before Biyu’s legs would heal, Jin Shu had perfected his rune practice. He could now inscribe each rune flawlessly, and the time had come to upgrade his weapons. Excitement bubbled within him as he anticipated testing the new runes and their powerful effects.
“Yin’er, let’s go,” he called toward the corner of his room, where a small figure was buried under a pile of blankets.
“Mm! Mmmm! Mmm! Mmmmmm!” came a muffled, distinctly angry response.
“I can’t understand you when you’re under there,” Jin Shu said, walking over to the bundle. He lifted the blankets, revealing an irate little tiger cub glaring up at him.
He barely had time to react before a paw swiped at his face. Jin Shu pulled back just in time, though his face already bore the marks of a previous encounter. His left cheek and the bridge of his nose were decorated with fresh scratches, proof of an earlier skirmish with the tiny, furious cub.
That morning, while waiting in the training room, a silver blur had launched itself at his face with startling precision. The cub had delivered two swift, stinging strikes, all the while scolding him in a high-pitched voice: “Bad Daddy! Liar Daddy!”
Through this he regrettably found out what her earlier—“or else”, meant.
Yin’er’s tantrum had lasted most of the morning. Through tears and growls, she accused him of abandoning her again. Jin Shu, bewildered, argued that he hadn’t left her ‘alone’ since she had Fan Biyu for company. The cub had no real counterargument, so she settled for sulking, retreating to her huddled corner.
Jin Shu now stood awkwardly before her, unsure how to make amends. Coaxing an upset child was entirely foreign to him; no one had ever done it for him in his own childhood. But he’d seen it done in films and TV shows, so he decided to try.
“Uh… come out, and I’ll have the chefs make you a big, juicy steak. How does that sound?”
The lump under the blankets remained still. No response.
He cleared his throat, trying again. “Ahem… Yin’er, Daddy’s sorry. He didn’t mean to make you upset. Why don’t you come out, and I’ll get you anything you want, okay?”
His face burned with embarrassment at the overly sweet words, but he pushed through. To his surprise, saying them felt… right. Warm, even.
A small head peeked out from the blankets, her silver fur still bristling with indignation. “Don’t want anything! Daddy hates me!”
“What?!” Jin Shu’s eyes widened. “I don’t hate you! I… I love you!”
Her ears twitched. “You do?”
“Yes, Daddy loves you a lot! So please, come out,” he pleaded.
Slowly, she poked her head out from the bundle of blankets, her silver ears flattened against her head. She hesitated for a moment before taking a tentative step forward. Jin Shu thought she looked utterly adorable.
As she stepped out completely, she tilted her head up to look at him, her wide golden eyes filled with uncertainty. Realizing how much she was struggling to meet his gaze, Jin Shu crouched down, lowering himself almost to the floor to get closer to her eye level.
“Everything okay now?” he asked gently, reaching out to pet her soft head, his hand trailing down her back.
For a moment, her eyes narrowed into contented slits, and a soft purring sound escaped her. But then, as if remembering her earlier indignation, she shook his hand off and puffed up her fur. “No!”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, taken aback.
“Daddy said give me anything. Yin’er wants a hug!”
“Okay,” he said with a chuckle, immediately scooping her up. He held her snugly against his chest, her small body fitting perfectly in his arms.
“Kiss.”
“Hm?”
“Yin’er wants a kiss now,” she demanded, her tone firm but her eyes hopeful.
“Alright,” he said, leaning down to plant a gentle kiss on the softly glowing mark on her forehead. “All better?”
She nodded slowly, her earlier anger seemingly forgotten.
“Good. Let’s go then. Daddy has lots of work to do.”
As he stood, Jin Shu realized with mild amusement that he’d unconsciously started referring to himself as “Daddy,” just as Yin’er did.
----------------------------------------
Jin Shu sat in his workshop, a table before him laden with weapons that shouldn’t exist in this world. At the center lay the Sig Sauer M17, a replica of his old service pistol. This one, however, was matte black, a departure from the coyote brown of the standard issue.
Beside it rested a long rifle, the H&K M110A1 CSASS. Another relic of his army days, it brought back memories of his sniper training, even though he’d never officially been a sniper during his time as a Ranger.
The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.
Arrayed alongside the firearms was an assortment of knives. The KA-BAR, the official blade of the USMC, gleamed with a utilitarian sharpness. The Karambit, with its curved blade designed for hooking and disarming, held a sinister elegance. And finally, there was the Yarborough knife—a deeply personal reminder of his brief time as a Green Beret, a period cut short by the plague that had changed everything.
“Let’s start with the runes all my weapons will share. Both the basic and advanced forms of the Durability Rune, for sure.”
He picked up the inscribing needle, steadying his hand as he began the tedious task of carving runes into each weapon. Over and over, the delicate strokes embedded the power into the tools of his trade. When he finished inscribing the Self-Repair Rune on the M110A1, the weapon immediately flared with a bright white glow, only to dim seconds later.
“Hm?” Jin Shu frowned. “That glow means it’s repairing, but… a light that bright? It’s on the verge of breaking.”
He picked up the rifle, inspecting it closely. How could I forget something so essential? He hadn’t cleaned his weapons, hadn’t checked them for damage. That glaring oversight gnawed at him, and he set the rifle down with a sigh.
The more he thought about it, the clearer the problem became. His reincarnation had affected more than just his mind. He was in a new body, with its own limits and habits. Muscle memory and instincts that had once been second nature were now fractured, leaving gaps in routines he’d once followed religiously.
“Now that I know, I won’t let it happen again. Anyway, back to inscribing.”
Jin Shu turned his focus back to the weapons, ensuring that each was equipped with Qi Circulation Runes. These were essential, as they provided a slight boost to the effectiveness of all other runes on the weapon. However, he had to be mindful of the limitations of each weapon’s material. Different metals could only handle a certain number of runes before reaching their breaking point.
The knives, while made of strong materials, weren’t forged from the best. They could safely handle a maximum of seven runes. Any more, and the weapons would literally burst under the strain. Jin Shu had seen it happen before—when he was younger, his father had overloaded a weapon in his forge. The fragments had exploded with such force that shards of metal were still embedded in the walls to this day.
Carefully, he selected the seven runes for each knife, tailoring them to complement the elemental properties of their designs.
The KA-BAR received two fire runes: Flame and Wrath, enhancing its cutting edge with destructive heat.
The Yarborough was imbued with Wind and Tempest Slash, granting it a swiftness and slicing power that mimicked a gale.
For the Karambit, he chose the ice element, inscribing it with Frost and Glacial, giving the blade a chilling, almost freezing quality.
Each knife also received the Sharpness Rune for unparalleled cutting power and the Bloodletting Rune to enhance its lethality in combat, bringing the total to seven runes apiece.
Jin Shu then shifted his attention to the firearms. He had initially considered adding an Explosion Rune to his pistol, envisioning devastating results. However, upon closer inspection of his rifle, he realized the internal damage caused by the Explosion Rune would limit its usability. The weapon would only withstand three shots before requiring repairs—and the Self-Repair Rune, while useful, was far too slow for heavy damage.
With that in mind, he decided against using the Explosion Rune on weapons he relied on frequently. Instead, he inscribed the advanced form of the Qi Circulation Rune, the Qi Reservoir Rune. This would allow the weapons to store a reserve of Qi, ensuring he’d always have extra energy to draw upon in a pinch.
Satisfied with his decisions, Jin Shu leaned back, a small smile playing on his lips. Each weapon had been crafted and inscribed with care, tailored for versatility and reliability in the battles to come.
He would rather never use these weapons, but he knew in his heart that was wishful thinking at best.
Packing away the finished tools of war, Jin Shu lingered on the M17 in his hands. “For now, my pistol doesn’t have the lethality to take on cultivators beyond the Qi Realm. I’ll need to rely on getting close with my knives.” He retrieved a 9mm round from his storage earring, turning it over between his fingers. “I might need to enhance the ammunition if I want to increase its stopping power...”
His voice trailed off as he addressed the microscopic AI nestled within his dantian. “What do you think, Nano? Should I do it?”
The tiny robot’s voice resonated in his mind, analytical and direct. “If you were to inscribe your ammunition, it would certainly become many times more lethal. However, we detect hesitation.”
Jin Shu sighed, rolling the round across his palm. “I don’t like killing, and the stronger my weapons, the easier it becomes for me to kill.”
Nano tilted fractionally within his spiritual sea, the subtle movement almost conveying confusion. “Are you certain?”
“Certain that I don’t like killing?”
“Yes.”
“Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because in your memories, you were highly efficient. From what we’ve observed, killing wasn’t just something you tolerated—it was something you excelled at, even sought out.”
“Efficient, sure,” Jin Shu muttered, his grip tightening around the round. “But that doesn’t mean I enjoyed it. Quite the opposite, actually. If I had to kill, I made it my goal to do it as cleanly and effectively as possible.”
“How is that the opposite?” Nano pressed.
He hesitated, searching for the right words. “Uh… let me put it this way. I was following orders. Seeing it as just another task helped me dissociate from my actions.”
“You’re lying.”
The statement hit him like a physical blow. “What? I’m lying? How?”
“In your memories, you reveled in the rush of adrenaline. You pushed yourself to be the best, seeking placement on the most dangerous missions. It was your driving force.”
Silence stretched between them. Jin Shu’s expression darkened, his thoughts sinking deeper.
“… Am I really lying to myself?” he murmured.
Without waiting for Nano’s response, he sank further into his mind, into the very depths of his soul. Memories and emotions surged around him like turbulent waves as he searched desperately for the truth in Nano’s words.