Runes • Rifles • Reincarnation
59. Jin Shu’s Story — End of Volume 1

It took Jin Shu longer than he wished to admit to stop crying. The weight of everyone’s gazes pressed on him, grounding him in the present. He wiped the tear stains on his cheeks with the sleeve of his robe, taking a deep, shaky breath as he stood.

“I’d like to hear more about those memories of your past life, if you feel up to sharing,” his mother said softly.

Jin Shu rubbed the back of his head, his eyes flicking nervously around the group. Everyone was staring at him with varying degrees of curiosity. “Uh… sure,” he said, clearing his throat. “Let’s sit down first.” He gestured toward the stone table under the plum tree, the very spot where he’d woken up a month ago.

Once seated under the cascading plum blossoms, Jin Shu hesitated. He glanced at each face, their expectant gazes making him feel oddly vulnerable. Letting out a self-deprecating laugh, he asked, “You probably think I’m insane, don’t you?”

His mother reached over and took his hand, her grip firm but reassuring. “We don’t,” she said, shaking her head.

The others murmured their agreement, though Yin’er simply tilted her head in confusion, clearly unaware of the context.

Jin Shu exhaled and nodded. “Alright. Where should I start?”

“The beginning,” his mother replied gently.

Collecting his thoughts, Jin Shu finally began. “First of all, I’m not from this world. I came from a place called Earth.”

“Wow! Another world?” Tian Li exclaimed, her eyes wide with excitement. “What was it like?”

“It was almost the complete opposite of this one,” Jin Shu said, extending his hand to catch a falling plum blossom. He infused a trace of qi into the delicate flower, causing it to hover in his palm. “For one thing, there was no such thing as Qi on Earth.”

“No Qi?” Biyu asked, her brow furrowed. “How did you cultivate, then?”

“That’s the thing—we didn’t. We couldn’t,” Jin Shu said, closing his hand over the blossom. “Instead of cultivation, we had science and technology.”

“Shy-anch?” Yin’er piped up, her head now poking up from Jin Shu’s lap. “What’s that?”

Jin Shu frowned thoughtfully. “How to explain…?” He muttered to himself before an idea struck. Opening his hand, he let the blossom fall naturally to the ground. “That is gravity.”

Tian Li blinked at him, unimpressed. “Uh, yeah, obviously.”

Laughing, Jin Shu caught another falling blossom and leaned across the table, holding it out to Tian Li. “Alright, use your Qi to light this on fire.”

Though curious, she obeyed, sparking a tiny flame that consumed the blossom in seconds, leaving behind ashes that floated upward before scattering.

“What just happened?” Jin Shu asked, pointing at the floating ash.

Tian Li gave him a blank look. “The ash floated?”

“No, I mean why did it float up before falling?”

“Because of the wind?” Biyu guessed.

“Not quite,” Jin Shu replied, shaking his head. He turned to his mother and Aunt Chen. “Any guesses?”

“The Wind element?” Aunt Chen ventured.

“No elements involved,” Jin Shu said with a faint smile.

“Then tell us,” his mother urged, her eyes bright with curiosity.

“It’s a combination of wind and hot air currents. Heat rises, and the lightened ashes briefly float in that hot air before falling.”

“So it's a combination of the Wind and Fire elements,” Aunt Chen said thoughtfully.

“From a certain perspective, yes,” Jin Shu admitted.

Tian Li frowned in confusion. “So fire and wind are… science?”

Jin Shu chuckled. “Not exactly. Science is the study of how and why things happen—it’s about understanding the rules behind what we observe.” He held up a hand before anyone could ask another question. “But we’re getting off topic.”

Tian Li snapped her mouth shut, clearly ready to fire off another question.

“Anyway,” Jin Shu continued, his tone softening, “there was no cultivation on Earth. Everyone was a mortal. And I… I was an orphan.”

At the mention of his birth, his mother’s hand tightened around his. Jin Shu glanced at her and offered a small, reassuring smile before continuing.

“I grew up in an orphanage until I was ten, when I ran away.” He paused, his voice darkening. “I’ll spare you the details, but let’s just say I was treated poorly.” He hesitated briefly, as if testing the waters, then added, “After that, I lived as a street urchin. When I turned seventeen, I enlisted in the military.”

His words were calm, but the weight behind them was palpable. He didn’t elaborate on the hardships he had endured—his tone alone suggested enough.

His mother’s grip on his hand tightened further, offering silent comfort.

Jin Shu cleared his throat. “Most of my time after that was spent training or fighting in war.”

“War?” Tian Li asked, her eyes wide. “Was it dangerous?”

“Very,” Jin Shu said with a solemn nod. “On Earth, we didn’t use swords or other bladed weapons like you do here. Instead, we relied on firearms and explosives.”

“Firearms?” His mother tilted her head. “Are those the strange weapons you were using before?”

“Yes,” Jin Shu confirmed. “Firearms, guns, pistols, rifles—they go by many names.”

As he spoke, a thought struck him, and his free hand moved reflexively. With a flicker of intent, a gleaming rose-gold pistol appeared in his palm. He held it up for everyone to see.

“This,” Jin Shu said, a faint smile tugging at his lips, “is called a Glock. It’s a type of pistol. I made it for you, Mother. Much better looking than an ugly earring, wouldn’t you say?”

He laughed softly as he handed the weapon over.

His mother took the pistol with care, her expression shifting between awe and curiosity. She turned it over in her hands, studying the intricate design. Her fingers paused on the side where the metal bore faint scorch marks—a remnant of the time a shelf had fallen on Yin’er. Her eyes fell on the letters etched into the surface. Slowly, she ran a finger over each one, her breath catching as tears welled up in her eyes.

Setting the pistol down gently, she pulled Jin Shu into a tight hug, holding him close. “Thank you, baby,” she whispered, her voice trembling with emotion. “Momma loves it.”

Jin Shu froze for a moment before relaxing into her embrace, letting the warmth of her love wash over him. This was something he had never experienced on Earth. Not just having a mother—but the comfort of a loved one’s arms.

He thought briefly of his life back then, the two girlfriends he’d had, and how those relationships ended before they could truly begin. His gaze drifted to Biyu, and he decided it was best not to mention them.

Biyu caught his eye and gave him a soft, knowing smile.

Clearing his throat, Jin Shu reluctantly pulled away from his mother’s arms. Straightening, he resumed his story. “You know, there was something interesting about that other world,” he said, as a thought surfaced. “We had tales of cultivators and worlds similar to this one. But those only existed in works of fiction—novels.”

“Fiction?” Aunt Chen raised a brow. “Maybe someone from our world reincarnated into that one and wrote about their memories.”

“You could be right,” Jin Shu said with a chuckle. “After all, I’m living proof that someone can carry their memories into a new life.”

His Qi reached up to his space earring and extracted a small, cylindrical object, holding it up he let everyone see. “Actually, it was this little thing that awakened my memories.”

“What is it?” his mother asked, her eyes narrowing as she studied the unfamiliar object.

“This is called a bullet. It’s what firearms use as ammunition. Think of it like an arrow, but much smaller and far deadlier.” He turned it in his hand, letting the light glint off its metallic surface. “I found it in this world—a whole stash of them, in fact.”

Everyone’s eyes widened.

“You found items from that other world here?” Aunt Chen asked, her tone full of curiosity.

Jin Shu nodded. “Yes, just outside Black Mountain City, in the mountains.” He lifted Yin’er from his lap. “I found this little one there too.”

Yin’er blinked innocently at everyone, her round eyes wide and curious. She raised a small paw and waved happily.

“I’ve been meaning to ask you about Yin’er,” Aunt Chen said, leaning forward to get a closer look at the little tiger. “She’s such a curious little thing—so young and already in the Core Realm.”

Jin Shu froze, blinking at Aunt Chen in surprise. “Wait… the what realm?”

“The Core Realm,” Aunt Chen repeated. “You didn’t know?”

“Uh, no. I’ve never even seen her cultivate.”

“Well,” Aunt Chen began, smiling knowingly, “that’s because Spirit Beasts don’t cultivate like we do. They don’t start until they reach a certain age, which varies by species. Once they reach that point, they unlock the memories of their ancestors. That’s when they learn to cultivate—through inherited knowledge.”

“She’s been in the Core Realm since the day you brought her home.” His mother added.

“Does that mean Yin’er is strong?” Yin’er piped up, tilting her head in curiosity.

Sun Mei’er reached out to pet Yin’er’s fluffy head. “Little Yin’er is the strongest,” she cooed, her tone full of affection.

“Ahem.” Biyu cleared her throat, drawing everyone’s attention. “We’ve gotten sidetracked again.”

“Ah, right.” Jin Shu nodded, his expression growing thoughtful as he tried to figure out how to continue. What remained of his story wasn’t easy to tell. The memories of the plague—and his eventual death—still weighed heavily on him.

“I spent ten years in my country’s military,” he began slowly, his voice steady but subdued. “I worked my way up the ranks and eventually became a lieutenant, commanding a platoon of fifty men.”

He glanced up with a pained smile, the faces of fallen comrades flickering in his mind like ghosts of the past. “Before that, though, I was part of a small, elite group. That changed when an alien object crashed onto our planet, bringing with it a plague—one that turned humans into unkillable monsters.”

“Monsters?” Tian Li repeated, her eyes wide with fascination. “And they really couldn’t die?”

“At first, no,” Jin Shu replied, his tone somber. “Nothing we tried worked. But eventually, we discovered that metal from the alien object could stop them. It turned them into metallic statues.” He held up the bullet, its surface glinting in the light. “That’s why we made these bullets from the debris. It was the only way to fight back.”

“So that little thing turns beings into metal?” Aunt Chen asked, her gaze fixed on the bullet. “Is it filled with Metal element Qi?”

“No, it was made from…” Jin Shu paused, searching for the right words. “How do I explain this? Tiny metal creatures called nanobots.”

Nano, how did you turn things into metal? he asked silently, his thoughts directed inward.

“You do not possess the required level to access that information,” Nano replied in its usual mechanical tone.

He sighed softly, shaking his head. “We soldiers didn’t know much about how it worked, honestly. And we didn’t care. As long as it stopped the plague, that was all that mattered.”

The women listened intently, their expressions a mixture of fascination and concern.

“We fought desperately,” Jin Shu continued, his voice steady but laced with an underlying sorrow. “If they haven’t already beaten the plague, I’m sure they’re still fighting back.”

He took a deep breath, forcing himself to push aside the darker memories and calm his mind.

“That’s about it for my story,” he said after a moment, his tone softening. “I died fighting, protecting a group of civilians. Then… I woke up here. Or rather, my memories did.”

Jin Shu glanced around as silence settled over the group. Each woman wore a different expression, their thoughts unspoken yet etched clearly on their faces.

His mother offered him a warm smile, squeezing his hand gently.

Above them, the plum blossoms swayed in the breeze, petals drifting softly to the ground. The tranquil scene carried a bittersweet beauty, soothing the air yet stirring old memories in Jin Shu’s heart.

As he watched the petals fall, he couldn’t help but think of those he’d lost—lives that, like these petals, had fallen, never to rise again.

I couldn’t protect everyone in that life, he thought, the ache of past failures fresh in his mind. And I know I can’t protect an entire world alone. That’s impossible.

His gaze shifted to the women around him, their presence grounding him. But I can protect the ones close to me.

His resolve settled like an unshakable mountain, an eternal promise etched into his heart.