While Feng Lian read through the scroll containing Nano’s improved Body Scribing technique, Ji Ji hopped back onto Jin Shu’s shoulder and immediately began bombarding him with questions.

“You really met my ancestors? Where? Were they big? How big? They didn’t sound very nice—were they bad guys? I don’t like bad guys. Momma says I should peck their eyes. Did you peck my ancestors’ eyes?”

“Yes. Very far away. Yes, bigger than mountains. They were very bad guys. I did not,” he answered each question in turn.

“Then will I become a bad guy if you wake up my sleeping blood?”

“No.”

“That’s good. I don’t wanna be bad, otherwise Momma will spank my bottom. But… will I become big?”

“Probably.”

“Bigger than Momma?”

“I don’t know. I’ve never met your mother.”

“Oh. She’s as big as you in her human form. But she’s way bigger than you in her real body.”

Jin Shu gave her a confused look. From what he remembered, the golden sparrow was one of the smallest species of spirit beasts—rarely growing larger than humans.

“Is your mother not a golden sparrow?”

Ji Ji tilted her head. “She is.”

“Her mother cultivates a technique that allows her to change sizes at will,” Feng Lian said, drawing Jin Shu’s attention to her. “Her strength increases in proportion to her size, but it consumes a great deal of qi to maintain.”

“I see,” he nodded.

But he didn’t dwell on her explanation—he was more focused on her verdict regarding the cultivation method. Feng Lian knew it too, and didn’t make him wait.

“I have a few questions for you and Nano. But first,” she said, turning to Sun Mei’er, “go get Ai Yun.”

Sun Mei’er nodded, waved at Jin Shu, and vanished in a flash of red.

Her silence still struck him as odd. Even if Feng Lian had ordered it, he wasn’t used to not hearing his mother chattering away and joking—usually at his expense.

He didn’t have long to think on it. She reappeared in the same spot with a new addition in tow.

Chen Ai Yun was facing his mother, mid-sentence.

“—ere are you taking me?”

She turned around, blinking in confusion as she realized she’d been abducted before she could finish her question.

“I had her bring you here so you could share your insights on this technique,” Feng Lian explained, gesturing to the open scroll across her desk.

“Oh, Grand Elder, it’s good to see you in the flesh after so long,” Chen Ai Yun said with a bow.

“Don’t do that. The Sect Master should be above everyone—and that includes me.”

Chen Ai Yun smiled. “You couldn’t get our master to stop bowing, and they say I’m even more stubborn than she was.”

Feng Lian rolled her eyes. “Do as you please,” she said with a wave.

Chen Ai Yun nodded and moved behind the desk to read over the technique. Her expression shifted much as Feng Lian’s had when she’d first read it.

When she finished, she turned to Feng Lian. “Who created this technique?”

Feng Lian inclined her head toward Jin Shu.

“Oh, I should have known,” she said, unsurprised. “It was you and… what was his name? Nano?”

“Mostly Nano, but I helped a little.”

“It’s a fantastic combination of techniques,” she praised. “But it could be far better. Like this—”

She pointed to a section detailing the main qi-drawing method.

“Drawing in the natural ambient qi of the world, forming runes—or formations of power—completed with rare earth metals, the practitioner will acquire the needed energy to advance by a single minor stage,” she read aloud, shaking her head.

She tapped the parchment with her finger.

“While this is logically sound, there’s no nuance—no personal flair. This technique is exclusively yours, but it’s bland. It has no life.”

Jin Shu wasn’t sure how to respond. “Why does it need flair?”

“Let me put it this way,” she said. “Do you know that people have compatibility with techniques?”

“I heard something like that during the tournament. Elder Di Ti said Tian Li had a ninety percent compatibility, I think?”

“That’s right. When you use a technique made by someone else, it has a compatibility rating from zero to one hundred percent,” she explained with a nod. “But when the creator of the technique uses it themselves, that rating can exceed one hundred percent. We call it flawless compatibility. To reach that state, a technique needs more than logic—it needs flair. It needs to live and breathe when used by its creator.”

She tilted her head toward Sun Mei’er. “I’m guessing that’s why Mei’er was told to bring me here. We know you best, and we can help you find what’s missing.” She glanced at Feng Lian for confirmation.

“Correct,” Feng Lian said with a nod.

“So what do I have to do?” he asked.

“That’s up to you. We can only guide you.”

“I really hate cryptic stuff like that,” he muttered.

“That’s just how it is,” Chen Ai Yun shrugged.

“What can you help me with, then?”

Before Chen Ai Yun could answer, Sun Mei’er piped up, smirking.

“Hmm, let's see… ‘harmonize with specialized metals, like the union between man and woman’?” She said, reading from the scroll. “I see you slipped something interesting into this technique—an altered excerpt from a certain dual cultivation method that a certain someone claimed they’d thrown away.”

“Nano pulled it from my memories and added it without telling me…”

“Either way, with a small tweak, you could put the dual aspect back in. That would really bring the technique to life, wouldn’t it?”

He gave her a deadpan stare. “No. It wouldn’t.”

“Mei’er, stop fooling around,” Chen Ai Yun said, shaking her head with a weary sigh. “Jin Shu, your technique focuses heavily on runes and formations. Why?”

“Uh…” He tilted his head, unsure. “I guess because I’ve always worked with them—in two of my three lives, anyway.”

“And the third?”

Gold’s soul surfaced, his tone more measured.

“I was a soldier. A weapon pointed at the enemy and unleashed. I protected the innocent and took the lives of others. It wasn’t a glorious life, but I was proud of it.” His gaze drifted for a moment. “But more than anything… I just wanted a family.”

His mood shifted, and Jin Shu returned to the forefront.

“So dual cultivation is the answer!” Sun Mei’er announced triumphantly.

Jin Shu and Chen Ai Yun sighed in unison, both shaking their heads.

“It wouldn’t be dual cultivation if there was child-making involved,” Feng Lian remarked.

“Right,” Chen Ai Yun said, steering them back on topic. “You could integrate your fighting style into the technique.”

Jin Shu blinked. “Integrate my fighting style? Wouldn’t that make it a fighting technique instead of a cultivation technique?”

Now it was Chen Ai Yun’s turn to look baffled.

“I forgot… you never had a formal cultivator’s education—you were trained as a runesmith.” She sighed. “No. A cultivation technique is comprehensive. It covers everything—qi-drawing methods, fighting styles, and everything in between.”

“I don’t really have fighting techniques,” he admitted. “I just pull the trigger and the gun—or really, the bullet—does all the work.”

“What happens if you miss?”

“I don’t miss,” he said flatly.

“What if the opponent dodges?”

“I shoot until I hit.”

“Shoot me,” Chen Ai Yun said, spreading her arms.

“I’m not going to shoot you.” He shook his head. “And how is this related to improving my technique?”

“It isn’t. I just want to show you that you’re being naive.”

“She’s got you there,” Gold laughed in his soul space.

“Fine.” Jin Shu drew a pistol.

He aimed for a graze across her shoulder—a difficult shot, but not impossible for him.

Bang!

The gunshot cracked through the empty library, the sound bouncing off the shelves. Ji Ji flinched on his shoulder, wings snapping up to cover her head. Jin Shu’s eyes tracked the bullet for the barest fraction of a heartbeat—and then the gun vanished from his hands.

He blinked. Chen Ai Yun stood in the same spot, but now she held his still-smoking pistol in one hand. In the other, she rolled a crushed lump of lead between her fingers like a pebble. A faint thread of white steam curled from it.

Jin Shu looked down at his empty hands, his mind racing to reconstruct what had happened between the trigger pull and… this. He came up blank.

“Well… if my cultivation was as high as yours, I’m sure that wouldn’t happen,” he said, trying—and failing—to make it sound like a confident retort.

“That’s the point,” she replied, handing the pistol back as if nothing had happened. “You'll never reach my level unless you find a way to perfect your technique.”

“Harsh… but I guess you’re right.”