Runes • Rifles • Reincarnation

For three days, Jin Shu spent his mornings and afternoons with Liu Hua and Liu Ying. When he was first "auctioned off" as Liu Hua's prize, he'd half-expected something strange or inappropriate to happen—but aside from that one moment on the first day, things had been surprisingly… normal.

They spent the days chatting. The sisters told him stories about growing up in the sect, the lessons their master taught them, and the quiet routines of their lives. It was all very mundane—nothing like the schemes or wild antics he had feared. And truth be told, he found he enjoyed it. The simplicity of their conversations felt oddly refreshing.

More than that, he saw a different side of Liu Hua. A softer one. A side that cared deeply for her little sister and wanted nothing more than for her to live a peaceful life—one untouched by the bloodshed and chaos that came with cultivation.

Only… that wasn't the life either of them had been lucky enough to live.

On the third day, Liu Hua began telling him about their lives before coming under the Grand Elder's tutelage. Back when they were just children living with their parents. Back when their family was whole. Back when Liu Ying still had her sight.

They were seated around a stone table near the edge of the Grand Elder's peak. The weather was bright and beautiful—blue skies, soft breeze—but Liu Hua's face was shadowed with quiet sorrow.

"It was twenty years ago," she began, eyes downcast, her voice carrying a rare vulnerability. "We grew up in the southern region, just below the Demon Mountains."

She pointed to the far-off horizon where jagged peaks cut across the sky in a hazy, distant line.

"We were poor," she continued, "in a village that was just as poor as we were. But… we were happy." Her voice dropped to a whisper. "Ying had just turned one. It was her birthday. Dad and Mom scraped together what little money we had to make a proper meal. It wasn't anything special—just a few meat dishes and some fresh vegetables—but for us, who survived on grain and water most days, it was like tasting heaven."

Liu Ying sniffled, quietly wiping at her eyes. Jin Shu's heart ached with guilt. He regretted bringing up his own childhood earlier—that conversation had led to this. He'd grown up a spoiled young master, rich in luxury and opportunity. Compared to them, it was like they had lived in completely different worlds.

Still, they had chosen to share this part of their lives with him. So he would listen. And he would not judge.

Even Gold had grown up in poverty—on the streets, no less—but even his life, in hindsight, had been less tragic than theirs.

"You're probably wondering," Liu Hua said, glancing at Jin Shu, "why our parents would spend their meager savings on a meal for a baby's birthday."

He didn't answer, but met her gaze, letting her continue.

"In our village," she said softly, "children rarely made it past one hundred days. Making it to a year was… rare. Worth celebrating." Her expression darkened slightly. "And our parents had two daughters who'd survived. Two girls they could eventually marry off, in exchange for food, for money… for survival."

Her voice faltered as she said it. That last part lingered in the air, heavy and unspoken.

Jin Shu could imagine it. What that kind of life must have been—one full of uncertainty, grief, and quiet desperation. A life where even love had to be weighed against survival. And a future built not on dreams, but on bargaining.

It was a life no child should have had to live.

"But they never got the chance to see us married off," Liu Hua continued, her voice darkening. "Because just as the celebration began… a man entered our village."

She paused.

The quiet melancholy on her face shifted—slowly warping into something sharp and smoldering. Hatred. A deep, festering grudge that had never healed.

"That man brought chaos. And death," she said through gritted teeth. "While our parents were busy celebrating… I heard it. The screams. Villagers being slaughtered in the streets. I didn't understand what it was then."

She inhaled shakily, then added, "It was at the exact moment Ying's heavenly physique awakened."

She glanced over at Liu Ying's empty eyes. Which Liu Ying no longer bothered hiding in Jin Shu's presence. Even without vision, Liu Ying turned toward her sister and offered a small, reassuring smile.

"Ying's eyes…" Liu Hua said softly, her voice distant with memory. "Do you know what they looked like when they awakened?"

Jin Shu shook his head, though he had a guess. When he looked into Liu Hua's eyes now—eyes filled with violet lightning—he imagined they must have been something similar.

"Were they like yours?" he asked.

Liu Hua nodded.

"They were beautiful," she whispered. "A radiant violet glow lit the whole room. Lightning danced inside her irises. I was… mesmerized. But our parents… they were terrified."

She reached up and lightly touched her own eyes.

"You know," she said, almost absently, "these aren't real. They're fakes I modeled after Ying's."

"…Fake?"

"Yes," she nodded. "My physique isn't in my eyes. Everyone assumes they see the truth. They don't. My true ability lies up here." She tapped her temple. "I don't see the truth—I process it. I think faster, deeper, clearer. I can find patterns others miss with a fraction of the information."

"I see…" Jin Shu murmured, unsure how to respond but trying to keep up.

She smiled faintly. "Anyway. I got sidetracked. Honestly, I just wanted to brag about my physique a little."

Her tone was light, but it couldn't mask the heavy air that still lingered.

"When Ying's physique awakened… that was when he arrived. That man—no, that beast in human skin—walked into our home. He stood in the doorway, drenched head to toe in fresh blood. His own? Others'? I don't know. But what I remember most was the look in his eyes when he saw Ying. He was just as mesmerized as I had been."

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

She stopped, drawing in a long breath, and glanced toward Liu Ying—seeking silent permission.

"Go ahead, Big Sis," Liu Ying said gently. But her hands betrayed her calm—clutching the armrest of her chair so tightly her knuckles turned white.

Liu Hua saw it. She hesitated—but continued. Perhaps she needed to. Maybe they both did.

"That man killed our parents with a flick of his wrist. One swipe of his razor-sharp qi… and their heads fell. Just like that."

Her voice trembled slightly, but she kept going.

"Then he sat me down. Made me face Ying. Held my shoulders still while I watched."

She swallowed hard.

"And then… he took her eyes."

Jin Shu's breath caught.

"He pulled out his own eyes," Liu Hua said flatly, "and replaced them with Ying's. All while I watched. All while she screamed."

She looked away, fists clenched at her sides.

"And then, when it was done… he turned to me."

She shuddered, a mix of rage and revulsion washing over her face.

"He smiled. Patted my head—with the same hands stained in my sister's blood—and said, 'Take care of your sister.'"

She met Jin Shu's eyes, her voice now ice-cold.

"Then… he just walked away."

Jin Shu shuddered.

Her eyes—once shadowed with grief—were now stripped of all warmth, consumed by a chilling emptiness. It was as if her emotions had been hollowed out, replaced by something far darker.

Then, within that void, something else began to stir.

Hatred.

All-consuming. Absolute. Alive.

"I've never been able to find that man since that day," Liu Hua said, her voice low and seething. "But when I do, I'll take Ying's eyes back from him. Then I'll skin him alive and pick him apart… piece by piece, until there's nothing left."

Her vow was punctuated by a sudden rumble of thunder. The sky, once clear and bright, darkened in an instant as storm clouds rolled in. Rain poured down, drenching them before Jin Shu could react.

With a swift motion, he raised a hand and cast a barrier of water element to block the rain—but it came too late. They were already soaked through. Another flick of his fingers summoned a gentle flame and a small breeze, warm and dry, wrapping around them until the chill in their clothes vanished.

"Let's head inside," he said quietly, rising to his feet and placing a steady hand on each of their shoulders.

Both sisters nodded—and to his surprise, each took hold of one of his arms, leaning against him for support.

He didn't say a word.

He simply held them close, and guided them home.

Afterward, Jin Shu gently tried to extract himself from their hold, intent on heading home for the night. But they didn't let go.

Instead, both girls looked up at him and spoke in unison.

"Can you stay the night with us?"

They glanced at each other, then shared a soft smile, and for a moment, the heavy mood in the air lightened.

At first, Jin Shu wanted to refuse. He wasn't sure if it was appropriate, or if it would make things more complicated between them. But when he looked down and saw their sincere, pleading expressions, he hesitated.

"…Alright," he relented, sighing. "But just for tonight."

They nodded without protest, and each took one of his hands, guiding him gently into Liu Hua's bedroom.

As they stepped inside, Jin Shu's gaze was drawn to the shelf near the far wall. His rifle still sat there—but now it had company. The second rifle he'd crafted for Liu Hua stood beside it. Something dangled from its barrel—a tag. Curious, he leaned in for a closer look.

His name was written on it: Jin Shu.

A chill ran down his spine.

It wasn't the name of the owner, he realized. It was the name of the weapon.

He shuddered. Just when he had begun to think that Liu Hua wasn't quite as unhinged as he'd feared, she went and named a weapon after him.

Romantic in the most terrifying way possible…

A soft rustling behind him broke his train of thought. He turned—then immediately snapped his head back forward, raising his eyes to the ceiling and counting the grains in the wooden boards above.

The rustling had been the sisters stripping their soaked outer robes. And while they weren't nude, their sheer inner robes didn't leave much to the imagination. He inhaled slowly, trying to clear his mind.

You're here to comfort them, he reminded himself. Not for that.

Eventually, the heat in his cheeks faded and his thoughts calmed. He risked a glance—and to his relief, neither sister seemed to have noticed his awkward reaction. Or if they had, they didn't mention it. Instead, they took his hands again and gently led him to the bed.

He lay down between them.

At first, they lay there in silence, the weight of earlier memories still lingering. But after a few quiet moments, Liu Hua spoke, her voice soft and sleepy.

"Jin Shu… could you stroke our heads? Dad and Mom used to do that when we couldn't sleep."

The request hit him like a lightning bolt—clearing away every lingering distraction, every wayward thought. He nodded wordlessly and reached out, brushing his fingers gently through their hair.

He had often done the same for Yin'er when she had trouble sleeping, so he was no stranger to the process.

Slowly, methodically, he stroked their heads, his touch steady and soothing. The tension in their bodies began to melt, their breathing slowing, deepening. The pain, the memory, the storm—it all faded.

Eventually, his own eyelids began to grow heavy. And with the two sisters resting peacefully against him, Jin Shu finally closed his eyes… and drifted into sleep.