Runes • Rifles • Reincarnation
95. Confession, Kisses & Cultivation

Jin Shu was dreaming.

He knew it was a dream, but he didn’t want to wake up.

It was perfect.

A large, happy family. No conflict. No hunger. No responsibilities forcing him to lead a powerful clan or rule over others. Just peace. Just warmth.

The dream wrapped around him like a comforting embrace, carrying the faint, sweet scent of citrus. Like dragon fruit. Like…

Tian Li.

His mind jolted.

Tian Li! How is she? And my body… it was wrecked. I should probably check to make sure I don’t die… again.

His eyes fluttered open.

Darkness. Trees. The moon hung high in the sky.

Hours must have passed… hopefully not days. Or worse… years.

A pleasant warmth surrounded him—one on each side, a small weight pressing against his chest, and his head resting on something impossibly soft and smooth.

Left: Li Xue, hugging him in her sleep, her soft snores barely audible.

Right: Tian Li, snuggled up against him, practically draped over his side.

Above: Yin’er, sprawled across his chest like a little kitten.

Behind: Biyu, gazing down at him with a warm smile.

“How does it feel?” she asked, her smile shifting into a teasing smirk.

Jin Shu blinked.

“…Soft. Smooth. Incredible. I think I might have a thing for legs now.”

Silence.

Biyu stared.

Then—

Her face turned scarlet. He swore he saw steam rise from her head—though, maybe it was just the cold night air.

“I was asking about your body.” She finally managed to say, voice strained. “You nearly collapsed completely. The only reason we didn’t rush you to a healer was because Li Xue insisted you’d recover on your own. But I’m not convinced.”

Concern clouded her features.

Jin Shu sighed. “…Yeah. My body would have healed on its own… but I lost that ability.”

Her worry deepened. “Do we need to get you to a healer?”

“Uh… give me a second to check.”

Nano, how bad is it?

“Your body is damaged. I can’t heal you without my other nanobots. However, the damage isn’t life-threatening. You’ll recover naturally over the next few weeks—but you can speed up the process with medicine.”

Jin Shu lifted his gaze to Biyu.

“I'm fine. I'll heal in a few weeks. But if the city sells any pills for injuries, we should buy some. I'd like to have them on hand… just in case something like this happens again.”

Biyu studied him for a moment. “Should we go now?”

“No. I’d like to rest here a little longer… if you don’t mind?”

A faint blush crept back onto her cheeks, but she nodded.

Jin Shu closed his eyes, settling against her lap. Warmth enveloped him—her warmth. He could hear the quiet rhythm of her breathing, the soft rustle of the night breeze through the trees.

Silence stretched between them, calm and comfortable.

Until—

“Jin Shu.”

Her whisper was almost lost to the night.

“Hm…?”

“I love you.”

For a moment, her voice was so soft, so soothing, that the words didn’t fully register.

Then his mind caught up.

His eyes snapped open. “W-what did you say?!”

Biyu’s expression remained serene, as if a weight had been lifted from her heart. A bright, unguarded smile played across her lips. Her jade-green eyes held nothing but warmth… and his own stunned reflection.

She leaned down.

Her lips brushed his ear, and a stray strand of her hair tickled his cheek.

“I. Love. You.”

She spoke each word slowly, deliberately, as if letting them sink into his very soul.

Then she pulled back slightly—just enough to hover above him—before leaning in again, her lips pressing softly against his.

Jin Shu froze. Then melted.

Her kiss was gentle, warm, and achingly tender.

Her tongue slipped past his lips.

His breath hitched. His mind stuttered. He hadn’t expected that.

Yet, instinctively, he responded. Their tongues brushed, hesitantly at first, then with more confidence—tangling, tasting. The heat of her sent a shiver through his entire body.

Then—too soon—she pulled away.

The cool air rushed in to replace her warmth, and Jin Shu realized something.

He didn’t want it to end.

Jin Shu wanted to drown in her warmth—but not just hers. The warmth of those at his sides, too.

He wanted this moment to stretch on forever.

But that wasn’t possible. Not yet, anyway.

Maybe one day… or so he hoped.

The peaceful quiet was broken by a small stir beside him.

“Not fair. I want a kiss too,” Li Xue mumbled, rubbing her sleepy eyes. Then, with a little pout, she added, “Also, I love you too!”

Jin Shu raised his left arm—wincing as a sharp jolt of pain shot through his still-wrecked body—and patted her head.

“Yes, yes. I love you too,” he said, his tone teasing, as if coaxing a child.

Li Xue beamed, rubbing her head against his palm like a contented kitten.

A shift on his right side drew his attention.

Tian Li was awake.

She blinked drowsily at him, her expression unreadable.

Jin Shu must have let some of his expectations slip into his gaze, because Tian Li’s cheeks darkened, and she quickly shook her head.

“I… well, I like you how you are right now, but…” she trailed off, hesitant.

Jin Shu gave her a reassuring smile. “I get it.”

She hesitated a moment longer, as if battling with herself.

Then—

She leaned in and placed a soft kiss on his cheek.

Jin Shu blinked in surprise.

“Thank you for saving me,” she murmured, her face burning red. “If you hadn’t done something back then, I would have entered Qi deviation. I could have lost my cultivation completely… or worse.”

“I’m just glad you’re okay,” Jin Shu said.

Carefully, he lifted the still-sleeping Yin’er and set her down beside him. He tried to sit up, but a wave of numbing pain swept through his body, making him slip and collapse back onto Biyu’s lap.

He gritted his teeth. It hurt, but not as much as when he had first inscribed runes onto his skin. Compared to that, this was bearable.

“Are you sure we don’t need to take you to a healer?” Biyu asked, frowning.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Just numb.” He exhaled and tried again, moving more slowly this time. “I just need a few minutes to adjust.”

Settling himself upright, he glanced at the others. “Why don’t you explain that Spirit Realm breakthrough instability you mentioned earlier?”

Biyu shifted to sit in front of him.

“If you say so.” She gave him a scrutinizing look before continuing. “Before I explain, you need to understand how someone breaks through to the Spirit Realm.”

Jin Shu nodded. “That much I know. You send your core into your head to break open the barrier around your soul domain, right?”

Biyu nodded but immediately shook her head. “That’s right, but it’s a little more complicated than that. Your core has to circulate through your entire body first, building momentum. Once it reaches enough speed, it smashes against your brain, where the barrier to the soul domain resides.”

Jin Shu blinked. “That sounds… dangerous.”

“It is,” Biyu said. “And not just because you’re ramming your core into your brain. There are also the side effects.”

Jin Shu turned to Tian Li. “That’s what happened to you?”

She nodded, her expression a little sheepish. “I thought my foundations were strong enough to handle it, but clearly, I was wrong.”

“Side effects, huh? What exactly are they? And also… what’s a foundation?”

The three women gave him matching looks of disbelief.

“...Uh, you really don’t know?” Li Xue tilted her head in confusion.

Jin Shu shook his head. He had some vague memories from his past life’s readings, but nothing from real experience.

Biyu pursed her lips. “How do I put this simply…? Think of it like this: the foundation is how much you’ve compressed your Qi before you reach the point where it can’t be compressed any further. After that, you build layers of Qi on top of it.”

Jin Shu thought for a moment, then nodded. “So, it’s like you lay a foundation first, before stacking your cultivation on top of it?”

“Exactly.” Biyu nodded. “But you should already know this—it’s basic information included in every cultivation technique.”

Jin Shu shrugged. It hurt, but the pain was already beginning to subside.

“I don’t have a cultivation technique.”

“““What?!”””

All three of them exclaimed at once.

Tian Li stared at him. “Then how did you cultivate all the way to the Core Realm?”

“Uh… instinct?” Jin Shu offered.

“No. That’s impossible.” Biyu’s tone was firm.

He shrugged again. “Well, I did it, so…”

She shook her head. “Not that. I meant it’s impossible that you don’t have a cultivation technique. Master told me once that she gave you one on your fourteenth birthday. She said it took her twelve years to find you the perfect technique.”

Jin Shu blinked. “Huh? She did? For my fourteenth birthday? Are you sure?”

Biyu shrugged this time. “That’s what she told me. And she doesn’t lie… often… but I doubt she would have lied about that.”

Jin Shu tilted his head, thinking back. His fourteenth birthday wasn’t that long ago—he should remember if his mother had given him a technique.

What did she give me…? It was a scroll… oh!

His eyes widened. “Eh?! That was a real technique?!”

Biyu perked up. “What was it?”

But Jin Shu barely heard her. His mind was racing as pieces clicked into place. The contents of the scroll. His mother’s oddly persistent matchmaking. The way she kept bringing up grandchildren—

His face turned red.

No way…

“I didn’t realize that doing… that… could actually be a real form of cultivation.”

Li Xue’s ears twitched. “That? What’s ‘that’? Come on, tell us.” She whined, shaking his shoulder.

Pain shot through his still-recovering body, making him wince.

“No, no, it doesn’t matter,” he said quickly. “I thought it was a prank, so I threw it away. I don’t even remember what it was exactly.”

He lied through his teeth.

Because there was absolutely no way he was admitting that the technique was a dual cultivation method—one that required a man and a woman to practice together.

At the time, he’d dismissed it as one of his mother’s jokes. But now? Now he realized why she had been so insistent about him building a harem. Why she always talked about needing grandchildren.

It wasn’t a joke.

It was a plan.