Runes • Rifles • Reincarnation
77. Blood-soaked Battlefield

Jinshu sank his fangs and claws deep into the Roc’s neck, twisting and ripping with all the strength his serpentine form could muster. Blood spattered across his silver scales as he fought to tear the bird’s head from its body.

The Roc let out a choked cry, a strangled sound like a slaughtered chicken, its airway constricted by Jinshu’s coiled body. Desperate to save itself, the bird began morphing into its human form, but the transformation weakened it further, leaving its neck vulnerable.

With a final, savage pull, Jinshu ripped its head clean off.

The Roc’s lifeless body plummeted toward the blackened mountain below, crashing with a dull thud.

The second Roc screeched in rage as it rose from the mountain peak, wings spread wide in challenge. But the sight of its companion’s headless corpse gave it pause.

Jinshu wasted no time. His form shimmered, shrinking from his dragon body back to his human form. With practiced ease, he summoned his Spirit weapon—the rifle—and took aim.

Bang!

The Qi bullet streaked through the air, striking the second Roc square in the crown of its head. Its furious screech was cut short as it collapsed mid-flight, falling lifelessly beside its fallen companion.

Jinshu lowered his rifle, exhaling slowly as the tension of battle faded.

Next to him, Yanjiang reverted to her human form. She stood tall and imposing, her long red hair flowing down her back, fierce eyes locked onto him. Despite the years that had passed, she looked much the same—her towering frame and fiery aura unmistakable. Yet there was a subtle maturity about her now, a refinement that hadn’t been there before.

She stared at him, wide-eyed, her mouth slightly agape.

Jinshu waved, a warm smile spreading across his lips. “Hi, Sister.”

“Wha… Is… Is it really you, little brother?” Yanjiang asked, her voice shaky with disbelief.

“Last I checked, it was indeed me,” he replied with a cheeky grin.

“You sound like Aunt Zui,” Yanjiang said, visibly cringing. “That bitch,” she muttered under her breath.

“I did spend the last three years with her, so it’s possible I picked up a few things,” Jinshu replied with a shrug, gesturing toward the two dead Rocs. “By the way, why were you fighting Rocs in our territory?”

At the mention of the Rocs, Yanjiang’s face lit up with alarm. “Shit! Fuck! The Roc Clan is attacking!” she shouted, immediately transforming into her true form and speeding off toward their clan’s home.

Jinshu let out a curse of his own and shifted into his dragon form, racing to catch up. “What do you mean they’re attacking? Why would they come to the middle of our territory? Even if they dominate the skies, this is our home field!”

“Normally, that would be true,” Yanjiang called back over her shoulder, “but Dad and a bunch of the elders left! Right now, we’re at our weakest.”

“Left? Where did they go?”

“To the Jiao Clan! They’re hosting a big ceremony because ten of their Jiaos ascended into dragons this year.”

“Shit!” Jinshu hissed. “That’s a day’s flight away.”

Abruptly, he stopped flying. “Wait! Yanjiang, come back!” he called after her.

She slowed, turning back with an impatient glare. “What?! We don’t have time to stop!”

“No matter how fast we get there, the two of us won’t change anything!”

Yanjiang’s face twisted with frustration, but she didn’t argue.

“Let’s go back and get Aunt Zui,” Jinshu said firmly. “She’s incredibly strong. Stronger than Dad, even.”

“Stronger than Dad?! Impossible!”

“Doesn’t matter if you believe it or not,” he countered. “We need her right now. So let’s go!”

Without waiting for more objections, Jinshu reverted to his human form. “Take on your human form. It’ll be easier for me to travel that way.”

Yanjiang frowned in confusion but complied, transforming back into her human shape. Before she could ask questions, Jinshu grabbed her wrist and dove into a forming ripple.

Not a second later, they stepped out in front of the towering Zui Long Gou tree.

Jinshu didn’t pause, dragging Yanjiang toward the tree’s trunk.

“Wait. What—” Before she could finish her question, Jinshu pulled her straight through the tree trunk. They emerged in the air over Long Zui’s hideout. “—are you doing…?”

She glanced around, her expression shifting from confusion to recognition. “What? How are we here? And did you just do that weird teleportation thing with the rippling air? I thought only Aunt Zui could do that.”

“The tree is Aunt Zui’s hideaway, and she taught me her technique,” Jinshu explained quickly, then cupped a hand around his mouth and shouted, “Aunt Zui! We need help!”

Yanjiang winced and tried covering her ears, but with only one hand free, it did little to block his voice.

An instant later, the air rippled, and Long Zui stepped out, her face flushed and her wine gourd in hand.

“Whatz all da shoutin’ about?” she slurred, clearly drunk.

Jinshu didn’t waste a second. “The Rocs are attacking! Dad is gone, and we need your help!”

Long Zui blinked, rubbed her eyes, and blinked again before taking another swig from her gourd. “Well, what are you waiting for? Let’s go!” she declared, grabbing both of them and leaping into the ripple.

As they moved through the slipspace, she turned her head toward the two in her grip. “Explain more.”

Jinshu nodded toward Yanjiang, prompting her to speak.

“Well… Dad left for a ceremony with most of the elders yesterday. Then today, when I was coming to wait by that tree—”

“You do that a lot,” Long Zui interrupted with a raised brow. “But whatever, continue.”

Yanjiang hesitated, thrown off for a moment, before continuing. “...While I was on my way, I noticed a huge flock of Rocs. I went to confront them, but they sent two Adept Realm Rocs to attack me while the flock continued on its way toward our clan.”

“Did they say anything?” Long Zui asked, her tone turning serious.

“They said that today the Dragon Clan would cease to exist.”

“Anything else?”

Yanjiang shook her head. “No. Just that.”

“We’re here. Get ready,” Long Zui said, stopping in the bright blue void of slipspace.

Yanjiang looked around in confusion, but Jinshu recognized the familiar energy in the air. They had arrived near their clan’s home—the Dragon Vein Mountains.

Jinshu clenched his fists and mentally steeled himself. Yet, as they stepped out of the slipspace and into the skies above the mountain range, no amount of preparation could have braced him for what he saw.

Chaos.

The air was thick with blood and ash. Rocs carrying lifeless dragon corpses in their talons. Human-form Rocs in gleaming golden robes clashing against dragon-horned warriors in desperate battles. Rivers of blood cascaded down the mountainsides, and broken bodies—of all shapes and sizes—littered every open space.

Screams and cries filled the air. Children sobbing over their parents' broken bodies while Rocs screeched mercilessly, diving to snatch those same children from the ground.

At the center of it all, like the grim conductor of this symphony of death, hovered Peng Niao, the Golden Roc Clan’s Patriarch. His massive golden wings caught the sunlight as he surveyed the battlefield below, his expression cold and unfeeling.

Jinshu and Yanjiang gasped in horror, their breath catching as they took in the devastation. This wasn’t just an attack; it was annihilation. Their home was being destroyed before their eyes.

Next to them, Long Zui’s face darkened with a vicious scowl. Her eyes burned with fury as she said, “Stay safe.” Without waiting for a reply, she shot forward, rising to confront Peng Niao.

Jinshu hesitated, overwhelmed by the carnage. He could barely hear the sound of his sister’s voice over the chaos. His thoughts tangled and froze as he struggled to process the destruction before him.

But in the next moment, instinct took over.

He dove headfirst into the battlefield. Both hands moved in a blur as he began carving glowing runes into the air. Thousands of shimmering symbols erupted around him, forming layer upon layer of intricate formations.

Jinshu became a blazing beacon of light in the chaos, his energy surging like a tidal wave. Both allies and enemies turned their eyes toward him—dragons with newfound hope, and Rocs with growing fury.

As if by silent command, dozens of Rocs broke from the fray and dove toward him.

The runes activated.

Bright, searing lights erupted from the formations, streaking through the air like meteors. Every Roc they touched was obliterated if their cultivation was below the Master Realm. The stronger ones—those at or above the Master Realm—were still struck down, their bodies torn and battered by the relentless barrage.

Within moments, fifty Rocs plummeted from the sky—lifeless or crippled, their wings shredded.

But it wasn’t enough.

More Rocs—over fifty of them, wounded but filled with rage—dove toward him, their screeches echoing through the battlefield as they closed the gap.

Jinshu paid no mind to the approaching Rocs. His gaze swept over the blood-soaked battlefield, a bittersweet smile tugging at his lips even as tears streamed down his face. He continued weaving more formations, his hands trembling with exhaustion. His Qi ran dry, his dantian screaming in protest against the overexpenditure.

Yet, he stood defiant—a solitary figure against the storm, willing to give everything he had to protect what remained.