Runes • Rifles • Reincarnation
86. The End of A Story. The Beginning of Another. Volume 2 End

With a sigh, he picked up his chair and sat back down.

Not a second later, a tiny silver figure dropped into his lap from above, squirming until she nestled herself into the most comfortable spot. Leaning her back against his chest, Yin’er let out a soft, contented purr.

“Hmm… something’s not right…” she muttered.

Jin Shu glanced down. “What’s not right?”

“I’m missing something, Daddy. What am I missing?” She leaned back, staring up at him with wide, questioning eyes.

He blinked. “I don’t know.”

He really had no idea, and his honest answer earned him a sad little pout.

Biyu, sitting to his right, leaned in and gently brushed aside Yin’er’s silvery hair. “She doesn’t have ears.”

“Oh!” Yin’er clapped her hands.

In an instant, two fluffy tiger ears sprouted atop her head, framing her small golden tiara. A soft silver tail popped out from her lower back, flicking once before curling slightly.

“That’s better,” she said with a satisfied nod.

Jin Shu smiled and scratched Yin’er’s newly sprouted ears, eliciting another satisfied purr.

“Okay, where was I?” He paused, quickly collecting his thoughts. “Let’s see… I grew up for ten years without much happening. I learned a cultivation technique, read books, and played with my three sisters. Then, when I was ten, my older sisters, Yanjiang, Bing, Yuetu, and I left the mountains where we grew up. Which… nearly ended with me dying.”

Yin’er’s head snapped up.

“Daddy’s not allowed to die!” she ordered sternly, her tiny face scrunched in outrage.

He chuckled, patting her head in reassurance. “Don’t worry, I don’t plan on dying…”

Again, he added silently. Twice is already too many.

“During our exploration outside the mountains, we found a tree that released an intoxicating scent and glowed with a bright purple light. Later, I learned that the scent only affected dragons, and only a few species could even see the glow. To most, it just looked like a normal tree.”

He shook his head with a small laugh. “Ah, I’m getting off track. Anyway, we ate the fruit growing from that tree, which made us drunk. We ended up sleeping in the forest, and the next day…” He exhaled, his expression shifting slightly.

“That’s when I was injured.”

“Did you get alcohol poisoning?” Li Xue asked. “That happened to me when I stole my dad’s wine as a kid.”

Jin Shu chuckled softly. “No… worse than that. We encountered one of the Dragon Clan’s enemies—a lone Golden Roc, one stronger than us.”

“A Golden Roc?” His mother’s brow furrowed as she turned to Chen Ai Yun. “Didn’t that clan of spirit beasts go extinct nearly a thousand years ago?”

“They did,” Chen Ai Yun confirmed.

Jin Shu clenched his jaw, old memories stirring. “I have an idea why… but I’ll get to that later.”

His words sparked curiosity in the group, but they allowed him to continue without interruption.

“Back to the roc. My three sisters fought it after it provoked us. During the battle, the roc tried to unleash an ultimate attack—one that would’ve either killed or seriously injured them. I was just barely able to interfere in time to distract him… but in return, I was the one who got injured.”

The memory of that day played vividly in his mind.

If only he’d had more time with them… but now, a thousand years had passed. No matter how much he remembered them as his sisters, he wasn’t truly their brother anymore. Not in the way that mattered.

“That was the start of the rising tensions between our clans. The Roc Clan’s Patriarch—Peng Niao, arrived soon after, though I never learned why. He then demanded that my siblings and I be punished for injuring their young roc.”

Jin Shu exhaled. “My father refused, of course. It was my Aunt Zui who saved us from the situation—by claiming the right to punish us herself… for eating the fruit from her tree.”

Jin Shu laughed at the memory. “At the time, I had no idea… but that tree held an entire palace—one fit for a dragon. It was made of pure gold and was larger than this entire mountain.”

Li Xue blinked. “How could a tree hold a palace? In fact, what does that even mean?” she asked incredulously.

Yin’er tilted her head. “Do trees have hands?”

Jin Shu chuckled. “No, but this one had runes—hundreds of them—carved into its bark. They were hidden from sight, but all of them were related to space and illusion. The tree itself was essentially a massive spatial artifact.”

“Our aunt took us inside and told us that we’d be helping with her experiments.” He shook his head fondly. “Aunt Zui was a genius among the Dragon Race… a genius burdened by her own mind.”

He paused for a moment before continuing.

“She drank alcohol twenty-four-seven and was almost always inebriated. I asked her about it once, and she told me the reason why. A dragon’s nature changes with age—most grow lazy after a certain point, their cultivation slowing as they lose their drive. But she was different. Her mind never stopped, constantly absorbing knowledge, thinking, theorizing.

Drinking was the only thing that could slow her thoughts… the only way she could live what she called a ‘normal’ life.”

Jin Shu glanced up at his mother, and for a fleeting moment, guilt crept into his heart. He missed his other family—the one from his past life—even while his true family sat right across from him.

Sun Mei’er caught his gaze and responded with a warm smile, as if sensing his thoughts.

Both are your family.

Jinshu’s voice echoed within his mind, steady and reassuring.

You are as much me as I am you. The woman across from you is our mother, just as the one who birthed me was. Both are our family. The same goes for everyone around you and those you will come to know.

He paused briefly.

For reasons I can't explain, the heavens have given us a strange life—partially my fault—but what I can tell you is this: you should seek to truly open your heart. Keeping your emotions locked away will only serve to restrict you.

A second voice chimed in—the younger half of his soul, speaking up for the first time in a long while.

That’s what I’ve been trying to tell them!

Then, a deeper, more cynical voice stirred.

You’re just a horny little beast…

That’s not my fault! the younger one snapped. I’m six—no, nineteen, and I haven’t even kissed a girl yet!

Yes you have. Remember on the boat.

That doesn't count! She barely pecked our lips!

Jin Shu exhaled through his nose, shaking his head as the two started bickering.

“Daddy?” Yin’er’s small voice broke through his thoughts. She peered up at him, her golden eyes filled with curiosity.

“Ah—right, sorry. I got distracted for a second.” Jin Shu cleared his throat. “Back to my story. My aunt let my sisters go, but I ended up staying with her for three years. In that time, she taught me many things. The first was that technique I used earlier—Ripple Walking.”

Jin Shu couldn’t help but laugh at the thought of the scroll currently tucked away in the spatial storage of his earring. A moment later, he summoned it, and the aged parchment appeared on the table with a soft rustle.

“This technique you gave me when I first arrived,” he said, glancing at Chen Ai Yun, “was actually written by my aunt—the one from my dreams. Though, really, they weren’t dreams at all… they were memories.”

Chen Ai Yun raised an eyebrow, intrigue flickering across her face. “Written by the aunt in those memories, you say? Interesting. There’s actually a story behind that scroll, and it matches the description of your so-called aunt. Would you like to hear it?”

Jin Shu nodded, eager to learn how his Aunt Zui’s seemingly random scribblings had made their way here.

“The founder of our sect was a matriarch of the Phoenix Clan some five hundred years ago—Feng Bai,” Chen Ai Yun began. “The Phoenix Clan has long since migrated to the Immortal Realm, but I don’t know much about the details of their departure.” She tapped a slender finger against the scroll. “As for this particular text, it was given to Feng Bai by a mysterious woman.”

“The only recorded description of her?” A slight smile played at the corner of her lips. “A silver-haired beauty who never put down the wine gourd in her hands—drunk beyond reason, yet eerily sharp. She had an exchange with Feng Bai, during which she handed over hundreds of precious materials—enough for many phoenixes to advance to the Immortal Body Realm.”

“And for reasons no one ever understood, she also included dozens of scrolls filled with erratic, scribbled notes—this one among them.”

Jin Shu suddenly burst into laughter, unable to hold back the thought that popped into his head. “Haha! I bet I know the reason. She was probably just trying to get rid of some trash.”

Stifling his chuckles, he continued, “She did something similar to me once. While teaching me that technique, she also introduced me to the art of Runecrafting—specifically formations. She taught me the basics, then dumped me in a room stacked to the ceiling with scrolls, telling me to learn from them.” He shook his head in amusement. “It took me a while, but I eventually realized that the room was just her junk storage. Only about a third of those scrolls were actually useful.”

A fond smile tugged at his lips, but it faded as he recalled what came next.

“Haa…” He sighed, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. “After three years of training, she told me I’d learned everything she had to teach and sent me back home to reunite with my family.”

His foot tapped against the floor, the restless movement betraying the turmoil stirring in his chest.

“On the way, I found my eldest sister, Yanjiang, locked in battle with two powerful rocs. I used the element of surprise to help her take them down, but after the fight, she told me something that made my blood run cold—our clan was under attack. And our strongest warriors were absent.”

His tapping quickened, jostling Yin’er on his lap, though she only giggled at the motion, seemingly enjoying the ride.

“We rushed to find our aunt, and she brought us back home… The sight that greeted us was hell on earth.” His voice lowered, heavy with the weight of the memory. “It wasn’t a battle. It wasn’t even a war. It was a slaughter.”

He took a deep breath, steadying himself. His leg stilled, but his entire body tensed.

“My father’s wives—my mother and aunts—were the strongest left behind to defend our home. They held back the rocs, but it wasn’t enough. There were thousands of them. Every single one was at least at the peak of the Ninth Stage of the Spirit Realm.”

His gaze grew distant, the emotions pulling him back to that fateful day.

“I fought. I killed as many as I could… until a Grandmaster Realm roc appeared. At that moment, I thought I was going to die.”

A breath left him, almost a sigh of relief—like he had stepped out of the past for just a moment. “But then… the sky itself seemed to explode.”

The tension in his shoulders eased slightly as he continued, “A shockwave swept through the battlefield, so powerful that even the Saint Realm Roc Patriarch was sent reeling. It was Aunt Zui. She had released just a fraction of her cultivation—a mere sliver of her aura—and it was enough to shake the heavens.”

He allowed himself a small smile, remembering the awe of that moment. “I knew what it was immediately. I had felt it once before, back when I first started living with her.”

Then, his expression grew more solemn. “And then, she drew a formation. Three runes: Rainbow, Light, and Sword.”

He let the words settle before shaking his head. “Two of those runes were practically useless—things meant for beautification, nothing more. But in her hands…” A faint smirk tugged at his lips, admiration flickering in his eyes. “In her hands, they became an instrument of death and destruction.”

A chill ran through the air as he spoke his next words.

“She cut through the rocs in swathes. Hundreds fell before they even realized what was happening. And once they did… they fled.”

He gritted his teeth, his voice sharpening to an icy edge. “She went easy on them. She should have killed them all!”

His hands clenched into fists as his eyes reddened, unshed tears burning at the corners.

“We survived… most of us. But my mother—” His breath hitched, the words catching in his throat. “She wasn’t among the lucky few. Peng Niao’s talon pierced her heart. Not even our best healer could save her.”

He released a shuddering breath. Then, whispered a confession.

“But I could. I had a way.”

At that moment, Jin Shu and Long Jinshu’s minds fused, their emotions intertwining so deeply that lost memories surfaced—memories that had been locked away until now.

He remembered.

“Hundreds of years passed,” he said hoarsely. “I drowned myself in research, driven by a single, unwavering purpose—bringing my mother back.” His voice wavered. “And finally, I found it. A way to travel back in time.”

A dark chuckle slipped past his lips. “The rune had been in my hands all along. One of the junk scrolls from my aunt’s storage. She warned me never to touch it… and I should have listened.”

His fingers curled against the armrest of his chair. A sharp crack echoed as the stone fractured beneath his grip.

“The rune alone wasn’t enough. It could only send someone briefly into the past or future before the heavens shredded their soul to nothing.” He exhaled sharply, the weight of that knowledge pressing against him.

“But if I integrated it into a formation—one carved into my body and soul—I could bend time to my will. If only for a short while before my soul was erased.” His lips pressed into a thin line. “But that didn’t matter. I had a plan.”

His grip loosened slightly as the thought settled.

“I split my soul—two pieces, wiped clean of karma, flung through space and time.” He took a deep breath. “That was the correct choice. That’s how I came to be.”

The realization steadied him, his body relaxing slightly.

“I went back.” His voice softened. “My adult self replaced the young me that should have existed there. And I was dying.” His fingers trembled against the broken stone. “Slowly. Agonizingly. The heavens wouldn’t allow it.”

“But I saved her.”

His words carried the weight of absolute certainty.

“With the power I had cultivated for centuries, I wiped out the Roc Clan. Completely. Down to its very roots.”

A bitter smile touched his lips. “I saved my mother. I saved my clan. But in the end, I was still dying. There was no stopping it.” His gaze grew distant. “I wasn’t strong enough to truly defy the heavens… but I could protect a fragment of my soul.”

His hand lifted absently to his chest, as if feeling for something long gone.

“I hid it in a fang,” he murmured. “A fang that I would later find.”

Releasing a final, shaky breath, Jin Shu lifted his gaze, realizing just how lost he had been in the past. He had ignored the present—ignored the people around him—too consumed by memories long buried.

Yet when he finally looked up, he was startled to find them no longer in their seats. They had drawn close, surrounding him.

His mother moved first, pulling him into a fierce embrace. Aunt Chen wrapped around his other side, her warmth pressing into him. They didn’t speak. They didn’t need to. Their touch—gentle hands stroking his hair, the way they held him as if he might disappear—spoke louder than any words could. Tears glistened in their eyes as they slowly pulled away.

Then Biyu and Li Xue stepped forward, their silent grief pressing against him as their tears dampened his shoulders. Before they let go, they each placed a soft kiss on either of his cheeks—a quiet promise that he wasn’t alone.

He hadn’t expected Tian Li to follow, but she did, stepping forward and wrapping her arms around him.

And just like that, the dam broke.

The tears he had fought so desperately to contain spilled free, slipping down his cheeks in quiet streams. His body trembled. When Tian Li finally pulled away, his legs buckled, unable to hold the weight of everything he had been carrying.

But before he could fall, small arms wrapped around him.

Yin’er.

She clung to him tightly, as if she could anchor him back to the present. He held her just as fiercely, pressing his face into her soft silver hair.

“I love you,” he whispered, voice hoarse with emotion. Then, as he looked up at the others, his heart ached with the depth of what he felt. “I love all of you. More than you could ever imagine.”

Sun Mei’er stepped forward, eyes warm with quiet understanding.

“And we love you,” she said gently, “more than you could ever imagine.”

She reached out, cupping his cheek, her touch impossibly tender.

“That story is over now,” she murmured. “But this… this is only the beginning of yours.”

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