Gunsoul: A Xianxia Apocalypse

Yuan was careful to show none of his anguish to his opponent. Toshiro studied his face for any sign of weakness, then laughed and began to wave his hands in wide circles. A faint yellow haze began to form around his fingers.

“Few have survived long enough to see this technique of mine!” Toshiro boasted. “Die with my highest praise!”

Yuan ignored the blowhard’s boast and focused on his hands. The mist had grown thicker around them and now spread to his forearms until it completely obscured them. The oni now seemed to have clouds growing from his shoulders.

Toshiro leaped at him once again, waving the mists around him. Yuan raised his arms to protect himself from his foe’s punches, only to see the oni’s hands vanish in the fog. A phantom blow bypassed his guard and nearly blew his head off his shoulders. Yuan’s reflexes barely let him bend his neck to the right and avoid a fatal strike; a fact that surprised him as much as it terrified him. Cycling qi had improved his body and reaction time.

But all the best reflexes in the world wouldn’t save him from invisible strikes.

I can’t see his hand movements! The yellow mist shrouding the oni’s fists obscured their motion, preventing Yuan from properly deflecting them. All he could do was shield his exposed head with his arms. I can’t find an opening!

Toshiro struck him in the chest again and his palm broke the centidead’s carapace armor. Yuan had no choice but to back up a few steps to gather himself, but the oni refused to give him any breathing room. He immediately closed in on Yuan before he could take aim with his revolver.

Unable to see his foe’s hands and knowing he would turn into mist if he tried to punch back, Yuan switched to targeting Toshiro’s legs. A sweeping kick forced Toshiro to leap backward to avoid being thrown off his feet.

Yuan’s eyes widened as he sensed a slight pressure in his heel when it touched the ground. Could it be…

“Had enough?” Toshiro taunted him. “You can’t even see your death coming!”

Yuan ignored him, his mind set on a plan. He quickly calculated the angle required for his next maneuver. Any misstep would get him thrown off the train, and he doubted he would have the strength to stand on his two feet afterward.

I’ll only get one chance to surprise him. Yuan briefly stretched his legs for the final sprint. If I botch my timing or if he changes into mist too early, then I’m done.

Yuan charged at Toshiro with his wounded hand raised. He raced across the train with all of his speed, his posture that of a hand-to-hand fighter aiming to land a knockout punch. Toshiro laughed at his challenge and rushed to meet him. His eyes focused on Yuan’s closed fist, and not on the one holding the revolver. Excellent.

Three, two, one…

When the two duelists were within reach of each other, Yuan stomped the ground with all his might. A clicking sound resonated in his heel.

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A mighty recoil blast tossed him up in the air.

Time slowed down for Yuan. A split second stretched on forever in his mind as his body was thrown above the train and oni alike. The sharp pain in his leg enhanced his focus; his eyes focused on Toshiro’s head and at the look of confusion on the oni’s face. His opponent was in front of him one moment and had disappeared the next.

The brain briefly froze to assess the situation when faced with a sudden change, resulting in a brief window of time when a person couldn’t make a good judgment call—that moment of weakness never lasted more than a microsecond with trained fighters.

Toshiro was strong, but inexperienced. Countless thoughts must have crossed his mind all at once. Look up, turn to mist, duck, blink…

I’m a bullet man. Yuan pointed his gun at his target in midair and charged it with his qi. Striking at a bullet\'s speed!

Yuan blew Toshiro’s brains out before he could react.

The oni’s skull exploded in a shower of bones and blood on impact. Yuan’s projectile continued its course until it hit the wagon’s roof and bent its metal hide into a small crater. The train’s engine let out a roar that could pass for one of pain, like a great beast stung by a wasp.

Yuan smiled with joy upon seeing Toshiro’s corpse fall in defeat. The impact of his own body crashing on the wagon and the pain that followed was almost worth it.

His joy turned to fear as he bounced off the wagon.

Yuan barely had time to grab a metal bar near a window sill with his wounded hand, a gesture that spared him a close encounter with the ground below. The pain in his wrist flared with atrocious agony so Yuan bit his own tongue so as not to scream.

“Ghr…” Sensing his strength leaving him, Yuan repeatedly hit the window with his elbow. The old glass shattered easily and let him crawl back inside the train, though at the cost of a few cuts for his trouble. He rolled into a strange, dust-filled car full of ancient seats. Only when his back safely rested on the iron floor and his face faced the crooked ceiling did he finally allow himself to breathe. “Ah…”

How long did Yuan lay there, inhaling and exhaling to the tune of the train bumping along the ground? Minutes, hours? His bullet core pounding in his skull. He half expected the oni to return from the dead and finish him off, yet only the distant thunder kept him company.

Eventually, Yuan managed to recover enough to crawl onto the nearest seat. The pain in his wrist and heel slowly lessened, though both remained sprained. He quickly massaged them while focusing on his qi. It didn’t feel like he had broken any bones, so he should be fine after a short rest.

That battle cost him four bullets out of six. Yuan considered it a good trade for the pleasure of killing a Second Coil cultivator in a fair duel.

All his life, he had been forced to keep his head down or scavenge table scraps from the likes of Toshiro. Whenever he had faced First and Second Coils, he had no choice but to rely on surprise and ambushes to take them out. Kill them before they even knew what hit them. Such battles used to terrify him.

This time, he had triumphed over a Second Coil through his own power. He’d faced Toshiro head-on and beat him anyway.

Jaw-Long and Mingxia would have been proud.

Yuan glanced at the broken window and the sky beyond it. The moon’s movement indicated that the spirit-train was traveling westward. It was crossing thunder-blasted deserts and badlands faster than any kirin.

Yuan thought that cultivators used trains to, well, train, but now he wondered if it wasn’t some kind of giant spirit-car. Perhaps even their natural predator.

Yuan wondered how far it would go. He assumed that the spirit-train would eventually stop somewhere to feed, but this remained an educated guess. He might have to jump off the metal beast once he recovered or risk becoming its meal.

“At least it’s traveling in the right direction,” Yuan muttered to himself. “Jaw-Long, can you fetch my map–”

Yuan stopped himself mid-sentence. His exhaustion and force of habit got the better of him.

The memory of his dead comrades’ loss soured Yuan’s mood. He closed his eyes and prepared to cycle his qi as a way to distract himself from his morosity, when he noticed a faint light in the distance. He glanced at the landscape, where a faint line of mercury light slowly covered the horizon.

Dawn had come to the Thunderlands, and a fleet of spirit-cars rode under the sunlight.

Yuan watched on with sudden interest as a great herd of cars appeared in the distance.

Dozens of vehicles great and small drove across the badlands, their approach raising a cloud of dust behind them. No one sat behind their wheels. The noise of their engines overcame even that of the roaring thunder. Yuan smiled to himself as he witnessed their sunrise ride.

The hunt was on.