Jin Shu flipped open the cover of the compendium, expecting ancient secrets or profound diagrams—but the page was completely blank. “Why is this empty?”
“The book was merely a vessel for information,” Nano explained. “Think of it like a hard drive, capable of storing knowledge. It is, in essence, a type of knowledge-storing artifact.”
Jin Shu frowned. “So, what am I supposed to do with a blank book?”
“I could do one better than simply reading it to you,” Nano offered. “If you permit, I can integrate the knowledge into your cellphone, upgrading it into a data aggregation and visualization device, as we discussed before.”
“Oh, right! I’d forgotten about that.” Jin Shu reached into his space earring and pulled out his cellphone. After a moment’s hesitation, he pricked his finger with a blade and let a single drop of blood drip into the phone’s charging port. “Alright, do it.”
“Initializing redesign. Please wait…”
The phone’s screen flickered to life, the display bursting with rapid flashes of light and images, far too fast for Jin Shu’s eyes to follow. The chaos of data soon resolved into clear, fluid 3D holograms. A small bird appeared first, flapping its wings in intricate detail, followed by a man walking, and finally, a highly detailed, rotating model of Jin Shu’s pistol.
“It is complete,” Nano declared.
Jin Shu’s eyes widened as the holographic pistol floated above the phone, glowing faintly. “This is… awesome! But, uh… what exactly does it do?”
“The upgraded device can project complex, rotating 3D diagrams, such as blacksmithing techniques, weapon crafting methods, or rune placements. The holograms provide precision instructions, down to the finest detail. You can rotate and zoom in on the models, or even practice rune strokes with your finger directly on the projection to mimic the correct technique.”
Jin Shu’s excitement grew. “You loaded it with the compendium’s information too, right?”
“Yes. The compendium’s knowledge is now integrated. You can access it remotely through us or manually through the device.”
“Alright,” Jin Shu said eagerly, “show me what it can do!”
The phone’s display flickered and a book, identical to the one laying on the table, appeared floating above the screen.
“Try interacting with the hologram,” Nano suggested.
Jin Shu reached toward the floating holographic book, mimicking the motion of opening its cover. Though his hand felt nothing, the holographic book reacted, the cover flipping open to reveal the first page.
The introduction read:
‘Long ago, the origin of runes faded from the annals of time, forgotten by both man and history. Yet, in the grand tapestry of existence, their origin matters little. What truly endures is the art, the craft, and the wonder of runesmithing itself.
To those who dare tread this path, I leave you with but one mission: Discern the Runes, Forge the Runes, Transcend the Runes!’
“What’s that supposed to mean…?” Jin Shu muttered, frowning at the cryptic message.
As he turned the holographic pages, he saw runes—thousands of them. They ranged from simple, almost elegant designs to impossibly complex patterns that defied understanding. The sheer volume of information overwhelmed him, making his head spin.
Realizing he couldn’t process everything at once, he stopped flipping through the pages and returned to the first ten. These seemed manageable, and most importantly, decipherable.
The first three runes were immediately recognizable: Flame, Frost, and Wind. These were the foundational runes every runesmith learned, and Jin Shu’s grandfather—the Jin family’s first runesmith—had built his entire legacy upon them. Using these basics, his grandfather had created his own unique rune: the Explosion Rune.
Jin Shu’s eyes scanned ahead, spotting the Explosion Rune as the tenth entry in the compendium. The other six between the third and tenth were unfamiliar yet intriguing: Sharpness, Durability, Weight Increase, Weight Decrease, Qi Circulation, and Silence.
Most of these were self-explanatory, though Qi Circulation was an exception. Its description hinted at a complex, multi-layered function Jin Shu couldn’t immediately grasp.
The compendium wasn’t generous with explanations. Each rune entry displayed the pattern and a brief description, but the finer details—how to inscribe them, their exact effects, and any advanced applications—were left for him to uncover.
“Guess that explains the intro,” Jin Shu muttered. “It wants me to figure things out myself. So when it says ‘transcend,’ it probably means evolving the runes beyond their basic forms.”
Nano chimed in. “If you’d prefer, we can run simulations on the phone. That way, you won’t waste Qi while experimenting.”
Jin Shu’s eyes lit up. “Oh, that’s a great idea!” He breathed a mental sigh of relief, recalling his last rune-inscribing experiment. “You really are a lifesaver, Nano.”
Jin Shu spent the next few hours using the holograms on the phone, that he'd named the Nanophone, to practice runescribing—the art of inscribing runes on paper, or in this case, on a holographic projection.
He was in the middle of tracing the final line of a Sharpness Rune when a cracking noise followed by a sharp yelp of pain interrupted him. Turning around he saw Yin'er with her paws against her muzzle, as if she were in pain. Laying next to her was the large fang from his space earring and a smaller bloody fang.
“What happened?” Jin Shu asked as he stepped closer to Yin’er. His eyes narrowed as he noticed her pawing at her mouth, whimpering softly. It didn’t take long to spot the cause of her distress—she had broken a fang while gnawing on the strange fang she’d been obsessing over since they found it in the space earring.
“Show me your mouth,” Jin Shu said gently, crouching to her level. “I need to see how bad it is.”
Yin’er tilted her head, clearly understanding his words, and obediently opened her mouth. Inside, where her fang had been, was a small bleeding hole.
But before Jin Shu could even reach for a remedy, something incredible happened. Right before his eyes, a new fang sprouted in the empty spot, pushing through as if nothing had happened.
“What…” Jin Shu blinked in astonishment. “Nano, what just happened? How’d she grow a new fang so fast—or at all?”
“The process resembles our nanobot regenerative capabilities,” Nano replied, his tone tinged with curiosity. “It is possible that her birth, which utilized the energy of the other nanobots, has imbued her with a unique regenerative ability.”
Jin Shu’s surprise gave way to relief. “Are you okay now?”
“Mew…” Yin’er whimpered softly, her golden eyes shimmering with lingering discomfort. Yet, before Jin Shu could intervene further, she turned right back to the broken fang and began gnawing on it again.
Jin Shu let out a helpless chuckle, torn between amusement and exasperation. “You’re really something else, you know that?”
His laughter faded as his thoughts shifted. If Yin’er had such a remarkable ability, what other surprises might she hold? But there was no time to dwell on it—he had his own challenges to face.
“I guess now’s as good a time as any to check out the cultivation technique,” Jin Shu muttered, his gaze turning serious. His mind drifted back to the moment his mother had left. If only he’d been stronger, he could have gone with her.
Though he was far more powerful than a normal human, compared to other cultivators, he was still woefully weak. But that was about to change. The technique he’d found in the strange cavern felt extraordinary—like it had been waiting for him. More importantly, it felt perfectly suited to his abilities.
Pulling the scroll from his robes, Jin Shu unfurled it carefully. His eyes scanned the instructions, his expression calm at first but growing increasingly tense with every word.
“I can’t believe I have to carve and burn runes into my flesh for the technique to work properly…” he muttered, setting the scroll down with a heavy sigh. “No wonder it came with a warning.”
He flexed his hands, steeling himself. “Guess there’s no way to know if I can handle it until I try.”