Runes • Rifles • Reincarnation
148. Primordial Human Tribe

“And? What happened to them? Where are they? Is Tian Li okay? How badly was she hurt that she needed surgery?” Jin Shu asked urgently. Xi Yue had paused her account just as she reached the part about Tian Li and Ling Shi's injuries, leaving him hanging.

Xi Yue blinked, raising an eyebrow. “Gone.”

“Gone? What do you mean gone?!” he pressed, trying to sit up again—only for her to push him back down with a firm hand.

“Did you not understand from my recount?” she said in that same disturbingly calm tone. “Their injuries were just broken bones. Once we reset them and gave them bone-mending pills, they were discharged.”

She paused, then added, “Of course, they won’t be fit for combat for at least a week, given the severity. Especially Ling Shi—her left arm was mangled.”

Jin Shu exhaled a shaky breath, relief washing through him. Mostly for Tian Li. As for Ling Shi… he didn’t want her seriously harmed, exactly—but he wouldn’t have lost sleep if she had been. She had little issue hurting others, after all.

“You, on the other hand…” Xi Yue’s clinical gaze swept over his body. “It’s a miracle you didn’t cripple yourself permanently. Do you even understand what you did? I assume not, since you couldn't even gauge the severity of their wounds from my explanation.”

She didn’t wait for a reply.

“If it weren’t for that strange mutated metal qi from the equally strange creature in your dantian protecting your internals—and those archaic human-tribe runes shielding your exterior—you would have shattered every meridian in your body.”

She gestured first to his lower abdomen, then to the black runes seared into his skin.

Jin Shu blinked in confusion. How did she know about Nano? And what did she mean by human tribe runes?

“Did my mother tell you about Nano?”

She tilted her head. “What is… Nah-noh?”

“It’s the creature in my dantian. I assumed my mother told you about it since you knew…”

“I see,” she said with a nod. “No. I discovered it during your treatment.”

“Uh… then what about that human tribe you mentioned? From what I know, runes were invented long before humans even existed in this world.”

She shook her head. “Wrong.”

“What? Wrong? How? Humans are a baby race. Up until a few hundred years ago, they could barely even cultivate,” he argued, confident in the memories of the thousand-year-old dragon in his soul.

“That is only partially true,” she replied. “Humans are not a baby race. But it is true that we only began cultivating about five hundred years ago.”

Jinshu, is that true? he asked his dragon self.

Hm? I'm not sure. Humans were ingenious, but too insignificant for me to bother tracking. The one thing I know is—we copied their crafting and building techniques, Jinshu said with a mental shrug. Aunt Zui’s palace, for example—that was an imagined human construct, made real through the use of formations.

“So then, how old is the human race?” he asked at last, when he couldn’t get a straight answer from Long Jinshu.

“Primordial.”

“Primordial? As in... the beginning of time?”

She gave a simple nod—then shook her head. “The human race has changed and evolved over time. But our great ancestors existed not long after the beginning. Or so some legends say.”

“Sure…” he muttered, skepticism clear in his tone. “And what does that have to do with my runes? Or runes in general?”

“Do you know who—or what—created the human race?”

“Uh… no…”

How was he supposed to know something like that?

“There are many myths and contradicting stories about our origin,” she said. “But two details are always the same, no matter the version. Do you know what they are?”

He sighed. “That's a rhetorical question, isn’t it?”

“You finally caught on.”

He could almost swear he saw a flicker of amusement flash across Xi Yue’s face—but it vanished so quickly, he wasn’t sure he hadn’t imagined it.

“Those two things are: first, the one who created our race was known as The True Immortal. And second, we were born from a rune. Or more accurately, a set of runes.”

“…Huh?” He blinked.

Born… from runes?

Was she serious? Her expression remained as still and unreadable as ever.

“Are you insane?” he blurted—then immediately slapped a hand over his mouth.

“I’m not insane,” she replied evenly. “I’ve just read more history scrolls than most people know exist.”

There was something strange in her tone—calm, as always, but laced with the faintest thread of sadness.

“…Sorry. I didn’t mean that.”

She waved him off with an unbothered tone. “Anyway, as I was saying—it was with runes that the True Immortal created the human race. The first humans were said to wear runes directly on their skin.”

She gestured toward his chest, where several runes were clearly visible: the unity rune over his heart, the body-strengthening rune at the center of his chest, and the qi-gathering rune peeking out near the pit of his stomach.

Suddenly feeling self-conscious, he tugged the sheet a little higher over his lower half.

She scoffed. “Not much to see there.”

His eyes went wide, and he nearly flung the sheet off in protest—only to stop as she gave him a puzzled look, clearly realizing what he’d assumed.

“I meant,” she said flatly, “you have no runes on your lower body.”

“…Oh.”

He wanted to crawl into a corner and die from embarrassment.

“As I was going to say,” she continued, unfazed, “your runes remind me of illustrations I once saw in a scroll describing what the Primordial Human Tribe’s markings supposedly looked like.”

She traced a finger lightly over the unity rune. The touch tickled slightly, making him shiver.

“They’re seared into your skin from beneath, not inked like tattoos,” she murmured. “But why not conceal them within artwork, like the one on your back? That one seems far more sophisticated.”

“Uh… the one on my back was designed by the creator of the technique. He said it was based on markings he observed from a tribe with runic tattoos… was that… the Primordial Human Tribe?”

“May I see it?”

“See what?”

“The technique you mentioned.”

“Oh. Sure.” He pulled the Body Inscribing Art scroll from the corner of his space earring. It was normally taboo to share cultivation techniques—but since this was an auxiliary art, it wasn’t particularly dangerous. Unlike primary techniques, it couldn’t be countered with an antithesis.

“Just inject qi into it,” he added. “It’ll reveal information based on your cultivation level.”

She channeled a thin strand of qi into the scroll. At once, the first line of words appeared—written like a diary entry. She began reading, eyes moving steadily down the parchment.

He peeked at the scroll, curious—he hadn’t looked at it in a long time, not since he’d stopped progressing and hadn’t unlocked the next set of runes.

When I was young, there existed a tribe—I've forgotten their name after all these years. But I remember they used a special ink to cover their bodies with tattoos they believed would grant them power. That tribe has long since been driven to extinction by powerful enemies. However, before their final moments, I witnessed an extraordinary feat performed by one of their tribesmen.

He was a young man, no older than sixteen, and at most had reached the Qi Realm. His opponents were two men at the Spirit Realm. That young man died fighting them, and yet—unbelievably—so did they. Killed by him.

The scene was unimaginable. He shouldn’t have been a match for them… until his tattoos came to life. And I don’t mean that metaphorically. I mean literally. His tattoos depicted a dragon and a tiger fighting over a mountain. Just as he lay dying, the tattoos leapt from his skin, catching the two men off-guard. He dragged them with him into death.

I was curious—how had his tattoos come to life? When I examined his body, I found two tattoos. One was the scene of the dragon and tiger. The other was a rune I had never seen before. Later, I learned it was a life-giving rune.

It was that rune that inspired me to create this technique. Now, I pass it on to those who come after me. All I ask is that you remember that young man. I don’t know his name, nor the name of his tribe, but I remember his tattoos clearly. So, to begin cultivating this technique, you must first replicate that tattoo.

Xi Yue glanced up at him. “This says the tribe—very likely the Primordial Human Tribe—used a special ink. So why, then, does this technique use friction burns to create runes?”

Jin Shu shrugged. “I dunno. Maybe the creator couldn’t figure out what the ink was? Or maybe it was just easier this way?”

“No. Something’s wrong with this.” She frowned—truly frowned—for the first time. “Have you noticed anything strange? Something that doesn’t work the way it should?”

“Hmm… Well, the rune tattooed on my back… I struggle to remember it exists. I was told that’s because it goes against the Heavenly Dao.”

She blinked, startled. “Against the Heavenly Dao? And you tattooed it onto your body anyway? Are you stupid?”

“Uh… my mom asked me that same question, but for a different—though similar—reason. So… I’m beginning to think I might be.” He nodded solemnly, half joking.

“I think this technique is a lie,” she said, brushing past his admission. “It was likely created by the person who destroyed that tribe—to steal their power.”

“A lie? Then why would he make it and leave it behind?”

“Did its creator give it to you directly?”

“…No,” he admitted. “I found it.”

She sighed. “Idiot.”

“Hey—!”

“It’s common among some cultivators to create dummy techniques,” she said, cutting him off. “They’re functional, but flawed. Based on real techniques, but altered just enough to mislead others.”

She held the scroll out to him. “I strongly suspect this isn’t an auxiliary technique. It’s a dummy.”

“But Step—I mean, my master—told me it was an auxiliary technique when she examined it.”

“Like I said—those flaws are hard to spot. I’m not certain, but you should show it to your stepmother and Grand Elder Feng.”

“Stepmother…?” He was about to play dumb—until he remembered Xi Yue had dated his mother.

“Ah. Right. Your mom’s ex-girlfriend.”

She looked genuinely offended for the first time.

“I’m not Mei’er’s ex! We’re still—!” She froze midsentence, then turned a light shade of red. “Forget what I just said! You heard nothing!”

Jin Shu was stunned. That was something he was definitely never supposed to hear.

His mom… was two-timing his stepmother?!

…Wait. No. Chen Ai Yun did seem to know about it. Which meant… they all knew? Were they…?

No! No! No!

He shook his head violently, even slapping himself on the cheek to chase the thoughts away.

“What are you doing?”

“Purging the evil from my mind.”

She nodded solemnly and raised her hand. “Would you like help?”

“…” He stared at her.

“It was a joke.”

“…It didn’t look like you were joking.”

“I never look like I’m joking.”

“…Fair.” He shuffled off the cot and made a beeline for the exit. “Uh… anyway, nice meeting you. I’m feeling much better, so I’ll be leaving now!”

“Stop!” she barked.

He froze in place, startled. “What?”

She pointed down. “Are you going outside… like that?”

He looked down—and nearly had a heart attack. He’d forgotten he was completely naked.

“Get dressed first. And don’t forget your technique.” She turned and walked out of the medical tent, leaving him alone with his shame.

“…Holy shit,” he muttered, covering his face. “I am stupid…”