Gunsoul: A Xianxia Apocalypse

Mordiggian proved to be a very different teacher than Arc.

Arc’s training sessions had gotten Yuan used to practical exercises and the occasional attempts to make him figure out technique intricacies on his own; learn how to learn, in her own words. Mordiggian instead preferred detailed and in-depth explanations while happily answering Yuan’s questions in a clear and concise manner. He was, in short, someone more interested in teaching theory first rather than jumping into practice.

Yuan couldn’t tell whether he was always this way or whether the subject matter demanded that kind of approach. A gardener had to select the right seeds, set up feng shui-powered fields to maximize levels of elemental qi concentration, and then provide proper nourishment.

The lesson bored Yuan to death.

Cultivating spirit-fruits and herbs demanded a patience and gentle touch he just didn’t have. When Mordiggian taught him a few Barrier setups that could maximize what the qi plants could absorb, Yuan’s first thought was how he could apply them in battle. He spaced out during half the lesson in spite of his sincere attempts to listen.

Yuan was starting to believe his intuitive understanding of techniques—which Gayak outright called prodigious—was limited to combat applications.

Meanwhile, Holster proved extremely adept at the field. Mordiggian invited her to attend his lessons, which she followed with a lot more assiduity than Yuan himself. She not only learned Mordiggian’s Barrier arrays on her first try, but swiftly improved upon their designs to increase qi concentration by five percent; a feat that delighted her teacher.

She’s picking things up so quickly, Yuan thought with pride after he observed her refresh a spirit-tree’s with the right Barrier. It makes me wonder how she would do without her Human Pillar restrictions.

Unfortunately, Mordiggian couldn’t do anything on her behalf. “I can offer her the same solutions I gave you, Gunsoul: rebirth as a normal girl or a better reincarnation. I’m afraid only the likes of the Flesh Mansion Sect have the knowledge to repair her core without outright disabling it.”

Holster didn’t seem keen on either, especially since they involved Mordiggian eating her first. Yuan’s charge had hugged him tightly the moment he outlined those solutions. Having nearly been devoured by a rad-hag had soured her on the idea.

Thankfully, Mordiggian offered them another possibility. “While most of the Flesh Mansion Sect offshoots are allied with the Yinyang Khan, there are some in Battletown who take no side and might agree to operate on the girl for the proper price. Seek the man called Jared LaChaire. He might be able to help you.”

While Yuan wasn’t keen on encountering that sect again, he thanked Mordiggian for the lead. It wouldn’t cost anything to interrogate this man once they hit Battletown.

Others did take up Mordiggian on his offer though. Scraps without a future, traumatized people who had lost their family during the Fleshmarket Sect War, Bullet Church cultists who abandoned the faith, or ruffians eager to escape karmic justice… More people than Yuan expected gave themselves to the Sin-Eater, though Bucket surprisingly wasn’t among them.

He guessed that when you had lost everything, it was easy to restart somewhere else from nothing. That must have been what the Sky-Biter hoped for when he consumed the Lost Age.

In any case, Lady Tama graciously allowed them to spend the night at her station. While Holster enjoyed a good night’s rest inside, Yuan proceeded to cycle on the upper floor of a building, a window open to let the moonlight through.

He had a much easier time meditating tonight, though he hadn’t reached his peak efficiency yet. He welcomed the moon’s energies into himself until they helped burn away his false flesh to reveal the true steel lurking underneath. These changes frightened him at first, but now they felt… natural. Like a snake shedding its suffocating skin for smoother scales.

He sensed a familiar presence approaching.

“Orient?” Yuan whispered upon awakening from his cycling, the cold glow of the Blackmoon shining on his skin.

“I did not wish to interrupt your meditation, Honored Guest Yuan.” Orient very carefully stayed in the shadow beyond the moonlight’s grasp and put a platter of spirit-fruits within his reach. “I am surprised you heard me coming. I did my best to stay quiet.”

“I didn’t hear you. I smelled you.” Orient had a pleasant aroma around her, a mix of a gentle engine’s smell and perfumed interiors. “My senses are sharpening.”

“They are not the only things about you that sharpen, Honored Guest Yuan,” Orient noted, her gaze darting at his arms.

Razor-sharp, layered metal sheets now replaced his skin from shoulder to elbow; and when he stared at his reflection inside them, he saw his bullet-core buried under a metal plate covering his forehead. That one reminded him of the side of his old handgun.

Remembering his first weapon filled him with nostalgia.

“You know, my earliest memory is of being given a gun,” Yuan told Orient. “I recall being dragged out of my bed by a marauder band alongside five other children and being told we would fight for some warlord whose name I’ve long forgotten.”

That handgun had been his first weapon, and the one which Slash stole from him. In a way, Yuan guessed his first life began and stopped with it. Its absence bothered him to his very core.

“I am sorry to hear that,” Orient replied with genuine sorrow. “Was this the source of your childhood nightmares?”

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“No. Those came later.” Yuan looked up at the moonlight. As much as he used to fear moonburns, the stellar glow helped clear his mind and loosen his tongue. “They started with Chen.”

“Chen?”

“I think that was his name. He cooked our food. A Second Coil cultivator cleaved his face asunder with his bare hands.” Now that the floodgate had opened, Yuan found himself unable to stop. “When I killed my first man, I… I didn’t particularly enjoy it, but I didn’t dislike it either. It’s just something I did. I can’t recall the faces of the people I killed, but I remember Chen bleeding out on the ground well enough. It’s weird.”

Although Yuan had had many years to process and bury that trauma, it still weighed on his soul. He’d had a hard time connecting with anybody since. Getting close to people meant suffering when the wasteland took them away.

Orient stared at him for a few seconds, her golden eyes brimming with sorrow and empathy. “I sincerely apologize for my forwardness. I did not wish to cause you pain.”

“It’s fine,” Yuan replied with a shrug. He had many years to bury his pain properly. “I haven’t told many people about it.”

“Not even your former companions?”

“Not even them.” He supposed that was a sign he never allowed himself to grow too attached to Mingxia and Jaw-Long; something which he now regretted. “I feel I can trust you with this. That you’d listen.”

Yuan’s own reaction surprised him. The last few weeks since he rose from the grave did more to help him open up to others than all his years of wandering. After spending years on the road keeping others at arms’ length, he finally felt ready to trust again.

It all started when he encountered Holster. Yuan guessed taking care of her had softened him. That, or becoming a Gunsoul gave him the confidence he needed. Now he had the power to protect those he cared about.

“I appreciate your trust in me, Honored Guest Yuan,” Orient replied with a graceful bow. “Your words haven’t fallen on deaf ears, I assure you. I always seek to better understand humanity. So many of my passengers require my help, but how can I soothe their pain when I do not comprehend it?”

“You look more human to me than most.” Orient had shown him more kindness than most people he’d encountered across the wasteland. “Because you care.”

“Thank you for your kind words, Honored Guest Yuan.” Orient joined her hands and mulled over something for an instant. “Lady Tama agreed to let me borrow enough cars to double my length. With Miss Holster’s assistance and new designs, I should be able to not only optimize space within myself to house all of our new passengers, but also support a greenhouse car for food production. If I cannot ferry these people to a proper destination, then I hope that I can become their home.”

“That’s… that’s good,” Yuan decided. He mostly considered using the spirit-train for courier jobs, but turning it into a moving settlement didn’t bother him at all. This would help sustain their passengers until they decided to settle down in a safer place... if such a thing existed.

“Do you agree with this plan?” Orient asked him.

“Yeah, I’m fine with it.” Yuan squinted at Orient. “Why ask for my permission? It’s your body, not mine.”

“I find it difficult to consider you a guest anymore,” Orient replied with a warm chuckle. “You and Miss Holster have become akin to conductors to me. I feel greater concern for you than my other passengers and defer to your judgment.”

“Is conductor another word for friend?” Yuan asked, his mood improving slightly. “If so, then it’s mutual.”

Orient hadn’t hesitated to ram herself into a demigod of ultraviolence to save his life. As far as Yuan was concerned, he trusted her with his back.

“I am honored.” Orient’s cheeks turned slightly pinker for a moment, until she quickly regained her composure. “I sense another visitor approaching us.”

Yuan nodded calmly and then focused back on the moon. A shadow appeared above him, gently riding the night wind on a dark umbrella.

Right on time.

“We meet again, Yuan Guang,” Lady Kaguya of the Moonlight Sect greeted him with a smile upon floating at his level, her feet dangling into the void. “I am delighted to make your acquaintance too, Orient Junction TR-61.”

“The pleasure is all mine, Honored Visitor Kaguya,” Orient replied with a deep bow. “I hope you had a pleasant journey to this station.”

“Every journey is pleasant under the moon’s guidance.” Kaguya smiled at Yuan next. “I take it that you have questions pertaining to our Moonlight Path?”

She could read him like a sutra scroll. “You could say that,” Yuan said. “I have two questions for you first.”

Kaguya chuckled to herself, her voice ringing softly into the night. “Ask away.”

“Have you heard of the Perfect Shot?”

“Yes, I have,” Kaguya replied calmly. “It is the only way for one to escape the Gun’s curse as far as I know, though I have no idea how to land it.”

“I see,” Yuan muttered to himself. So the Perfect Shot indeed existed. “Then my last question: would your Path let me use it?”

Kaguya shook her head. “I’m afraid not. All of the demigods of ultraviolence’s Paths bear the seed of their own destruction. Live by the sword, die by the sword.”

Only a gun could defeat the Gun. Yuan had expected as much.

Scratch that, he had always known that deep within himself. He didn’t think the Gun only sought and raised Gunsouls to pass the curse along. Somewhere deep within its cursed core, its victims were looking for the right one. The gunslinger who would finally break the cycle.

Now that he had confirmed the Perfect Shot’s existence, Yuan no longer hesitated. His heart finally achieved clarity.

“Then I take it you have reached a decision,” Kaguya said.

“I have.” Yuan held his head high. “I’m a Gunsoul through and through.”

His Path was set, and he would see it to the end. He owed it to Revolver and to the people who perished by the Gun’s hands. To Arc too.

He would free Revolver from his curse or die trying.

“Disappointing, but not unexpected,” Kaguya replied with a small sigh. “The truth became clear to me the more I investigated you. At a hundred thresholds, facing a hundred foes, you always chose to pick a gun and return fire. You were born on the Gun Path twice over.”

“Sorry,” Yuan apologized. Though he disliked sects on principle, Kaguya didn’t strike him as a bad person. She was friendly enough and thus deserved basic courtesy. “I didn’t want to waste your time.”

“You have not. You win some, you lose some.” She put a finger on her lips. “Though if you want to make up for my disappointment, I would like to offer your little band a job.”

Yuan straightened up, as did Orient. “A job, Lady Kaguya?” she asked. “What kind?”

“A dangerous one,” Kaguya conceded, as all sect jobs were bound to be. “The Moonlight Sect has kept tabs on current events. Your current decision has all but put you on a collision course with the Yinyang Khan’s army.”

Yuan clenched his jaw. They were disturbingly well-informed. “Yeah, that’s true.”

“Each year, the Yinyang Khan organizes a competition in Battletown,” Kaguya explained. “The History Road course, where cultivators are free to battle with spirit-cars and vehicles in a bloodsoaked race. This year’s tournament promises to be the biggest of them all, for the Khan promises a special prize to the winner on top of the usual fantastical spoils.”

“A race?” Orient tilted her head to the side. “You wish me to serve as your sect’s vehicle?”

“You may participate under your own flag,” Kaguya replied. “We do not ask you to seize the prize, as much as you help our agents ensure no one else can.”

Yuan clenched his fists. He had a gut feeling about what victory in this race entailed. “What’s that special prize?”

“Destruction.” Kaguya’s fair face twisted into a dark scowl in the moon’s shadow. “Whoever wins will pick a target for the Khan to annihilate… with an arrow of light.”

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