Gunsoul: A Xianxia Apocalypse

Working on Item Materialization helped him understand a few things about qi-bullets as well. Arc called it an adaptive technique that other cultivators could replicate, although the effects changed for any kind of firearm. Yuan’s Third Coil-enhanced senses finally let him understand what she meant.

As it turned out, his body automatically charged his projectiles with a different qi frequency depending on the firearm used.

It was so subtle and intuitive, and the frequency differences so minor, that Yuan had no idea it happened until he paid close attention to the process. He supposed he could compare it to walking. Any man knew how to put one foot ahead of the other, but few understood how muscles worked together to achieve that result.

This discovery opened up new possibilities for Yuan. If he could artificially reproduce a specific qi-frequency, then he could infuse any bullet with any effect of his choice.

“This is quite the big change,” Yuan told Orient as they walked along the train’s length with Holster, taking in every detail.

“It is no less spectacular than yours, Honored Conductor Yuan,” Orient replied, which was true.

Finding his resolve to pursue the Gun Path removed Yuan’s cycling obstacles too. His productivity increased tenfold, and the changes creeping up on his body no longer felt discomforting.

He had accepted himself and cleared his mind.

Yuan hardly recognized himself when he looked in the mirror this morning. His body appeared to be constantly under the effect of a powerful Elemental Infusion. Every patch of his skin had turned into sleek metal, his muscles were closer to servos than flesh, and his nerves had been entirely replaced with circuitry.

His lead lungs breathed air and exhaled gunsmoke. Holes in his palms and feet formed an interconnected network with the thrusters on his back to evenly distribute the Recoil Fist’s power. His bullet-core had vanished under a protective plate of stainless black carbon. Even his eyes looked more like a pair of glass scope implants than organic eyeballs.

Bullets bounced off them too. He knew, he had checked.

Many would have likely mistaken Yuan for a Metallist at first glance if every part of himself didn’t scream ‘gun’

to onlookers. The steel sheets covering his limbs made them look closer to rifles than arms and legs. His shoulder resembled safeties. Even his teeth had transformed into bullets. Yet none of it looked artificial. Unlike cybernetic implants, everything about Yuan seemed homegrown.

He had become a living weapon.

Nonetheless, his transformation paled before that of the spirit-train. Orient had not only doubled her number of wagons from ten to twenty, but reshaped them completely. The locomotive had lengthened slightly to accommodate both the engine and private sleeping quarters for Yuan and Holster—since they had been promoted to the elusive rank of ‘conductors.’

Next came five wagons forming a Feng Shui sequence as each of the five elements was individually concentrated inside them. The first, which gathered fire-aligned qi, resembled a mix between individual quarters and a temple, with tall pillars of superheated metal surrounding a private chamber. The heat made Yuan suffocate. Fire was his native metal’s natural enemy, and the sheer concentration of this element in the area weakened his own.

Which was likely the plan.

“This is Arc’s wagon,” Yuan guessed. “You’ll use fire qi to weaken her Authority and better contain it.”

“Quite astute, Honored Conductor Yuan,” Orient quickly confirmed. “As the car closest to the engine, it will receive the largest share of qi and allow me to increase the output should Lady Arc require assistance.”

Holster grabbed Orient’s and Yuan’s hands, then proudly led them deeper into the train. Outsiders would probably have mistaken them for a young girl visiting a new home with her parents; a thought which pleased Yuan more than he expected it to. His metal skin didn’t bother Holster in the slightest either, which he took as a good sign.

The next car, fueled by earth-aligned qi, served as an ammo depot. It was one of the three wagons equipped with a cannon on the roof, which Bucket and the others had implemented in record time.

“The two other artillery pieces are located on the twelfth and final wagons to protect the entire length of my body,” Orient explained as she then introduced the metal-aligned car: a simple, bagua-shaped meditation room concentrating its qi in the center. “This is your focus room, Honored Conductor Yuan.”

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“This feels more like home,” Yuan said as he basked in the ambient qi. It seeped into his body so easily. His bullet-core hardly needed to process it. “Thank you. I appreciate this gift.”

Holster beamed with pride and gratitude, then happily showed him the rest of her creations. The water-aligned wagon housed a massive clean reservoir that would replenish itself by tapping into the leylines Orient rode along, which then fueled the wood-aligned car: a vast greenhouse of rows after rows of spirit-herbs nourished by automated sprinklers and separated by fruit trees.

Yuan took a moment to study them. Most of the strains gathered here were offshoots gifted by Lady Tama and Mordiggian. The constant influx of wood qi hastened their growth until they’d already started burgeoning.

Their fruits wouldn’t match the quality of crops produced by a sect, and most cultivators would laugh rather than consume them. However, they could produce quick harvests and feed the spirit-train’s passengers easily enough. Rations would be steady, if minimal.

Yuan doubted the passengers would mind. Guaranteed access to food and clean water, private spaces, and protection from wasteland threats was a better deal than what most sects offered to Scraps.

The train’s structure afterward matched what Yuan expected. The treasure car remained relatively unchanged, besides an added floor to maximize storage space. The next ten wagons were bi-level sleeping cars housing two sets of seven cabins, four of them individual and three double-size ones for families. Everyone would have to share a single washroom and shower, but that was more luxury than most were used to anyway.

Bucket’s car did give Yuan pause though.

“What’s this?” Yuan asked when he stepped into the double-sized cabin. Bucket had removed the berths to free space to invite a small group of former Bullet Church cultists inside. The group had set up the strangest of altars to worship at.

Namely, they prayed to a small metal statue of Lady Tama.

“Railing, railing, master conductor!” Bucket greeted Yuan with the same unshakable enthusiasm he had lost after the Gun’s attack. He then bowed in front of Orient while making a noise that vaguely resembled her train whistle. “Bless thee, Holy Orient, for giving us life and direction today!”

“Bless you, Honored Brakeman Bucket,” Orient replied with a mischievous grin which Yuan quickly noticed seemed quite forced; a detail which Bucket completely missed. “Is everyone ready to depart?”

“All tickets have been issued and the luggage stored!” Bucket replied with beaming pride. “We await your call to continue our journey towards the Promised Station, as foretold by the Goddess Tama!”

After the Fleshmarket disaster shattered Bucket’s faith, Yuan suggested that he put his faith in a deity that would appreciate his worship. The man had unfortunately taken his advice literally.

“Excellent,” Orient replied while clapping her hands with some nervousness. “In that case, it is time to say goodbye to Lady Tama! Please ensure everyone waves at her from the window on our way out, she will appreciate it.”

“As you command, Train Mother!” Bucket replied with enthusiasm.

Yuan began to wonder if he didn’t prefer him depressed.

“You’re okay with this nonsense?” Yuan asked Orient after they left Bucket behind to check the rest of the train. Fortunately, his new Train Church madness hadn’t spread too far yet. “You didn’t seem too keen on it.”

“Not entirely,” Orient replied, which sounded more like a ‘no’ to Yuan. “But our passengers need something to believe in. Besides, I believe Lady Tama appreciates the attention. She agreed to lend us a cat stationmaster to bless our passengers with meows and purrs.”

Yuan grunted and decided to wash his hands off the mess. He guessed it was easier to go along with it than shake the likes of Bucket from their delusions.

Thankfully, their newfound mania also translated into discipline and organization. The passengers followed Orient’s demands to the letter, cleaning up after themselves and moving their luggage to their proper places. They had also set up sniper nests in various cabins to allow their members to fire at enemies; a task that they would have to fulfill soon enough.

“I received two reports of those plastic scouts lurking near the station, Honored Conductor Yuan,” Orient informed him as they oversaw the kitchen and mess hall wagons. Those had been separated due to the increase in passenger capacity. “Should we expect an attack?”

“Yes, but only on our way to Battletown,” Yuan replied. “The plastic men have no reason to think we’ll turn back to pick up Arc, so I doubt they’ll have an ambush set up on our way back to Headshot Forge. We can expect a raid once we move past Lady Tama’s station, however.”

“Have you fought them before?” Orient asked, which Yuan confirmed with a sharp nod. “What strategy should we adopt then?”

“The plastic men are Lost Age trash who have gained sentience and arose from a plastic continent to the east,” Yuan explained. “They’re not too smart and are very fragile, but some can cultivate and they always travel in large groups. They don’t know fear and lack vital organs, so the best way to deal with them is to dismember them. That, or fire.”

“I see. I shall brief our defenders accordingly.” Orient led them into the panoramic car, where a small crowd gathered around the spotted cat that Yuan had seen hanging around Holster. The animal too wore a cap and a small collar marked after Orient’s designation. “Let me introduce you to our new traveling stationmaster, Gotama.”

The female cat, recognizing her name, immediately moved to rub herself against Yuan’s feet. Holster quickly and happily took her in her arms, which delighted him. While he wasn’t an animal person, Yuan was glad his charge had found a new friend.

What’s this feeling? Yuan wondered as he moved to the end of the train, opening the window to get a better look at the station. His steel heart warmed up in his chest. I’m hopeful for once.

He knew he should keep his guard up though. The date Kaguya gave them for the History Road competition left them just enough time to pick up Arc and then move on to Battletown. The Moonlight cultivator promised that her sect’s allies would secure all the necessary ‘paperwork’ for their induction. Great danger awaited them ahead of the road.

Yet somehow, taking revenge on Slash and his kind seemed so minor compared to greater looming threats that Yuan hardly gave it any thought. He still intended to follow through with it, but it was no longer his highest priority.

When he looked at Orient, Holster, and the strange community onboard this spirit-train, only one thought crossed his mind.

He didn’t want them to live in a world ruled by the Yinyang Khan or devastated by Manhattan. Nor did he wish for them to suffer from the Gun’s savagery as they had already.

That was a cause he would kill for.