The longer Arc listened, the deeper her scowl grew.

  By the time Yuan finished his tale, she asked him to draw a sketch of Manhattan’s chest symbol. He did so by grabbing a bullet and using it to shape a pile of gunpowder with it.

  “That’s the Nuclear Path symbol, all right,” Arc said with a grunt. “Those atom smashers love it to death. Wished I would never see it again.”

  As Yuan feared. “Any idea what this Cube of Natho could be?”

  “I don’t know anything about a cube.” Arc’s jaw tightened, her teeth clicking like a rifle ready to shoot. “I’ve heard of Natho though. T’was a Lost Age military alliance that ruled the west ‘till the Sky-Biter ate half their nations. They fielded weapons that could destroy entire cities during their heyday.”

  “You think the cube could be one of them?”

  “Probably.” Arc’s scowl darkened even further. “You don’t know Nuclear Path cultivators like I do. Every last one of them has a fetish for death and destruction. Nihility beckons wherever they go.”

  Yuan studied her for a moment. “They killed you the first time, didn’t they?”

  She didn’t bother answering him.

  Yuan wasn’t certain how to react to this information. The idea of a Nuclear Path cultivator getting his claws on a Lost Age weapon disturbed him as much as it flew above his head. He had stepped into a situation way above his pay grade.

  Nonetheless, the information did give Arc more pause than anything else. She sat by her workbench for a moment while thoughtfully stroking her chin.

  “Could it be related to Czar Zoa?” she mumbled to herself. “High-level cultivators don’t grow on trees… a disciple maybe…”

  Yuan could sense her studying him, even without her having eyes to see. He kept his mouth shut. His gut told him she was pondering a very important decision.

  “Okay,” Arc finally said, with a single finger raised. “Okay, I’ll train you on one condition.”

  Yuan tried to contain his excitement. A cultivator of this woman’s caliber wouldn’t share her knowledge without exacting a hefty price. “And that is?”

  “You must form an Unspeakable Vow with me,” Arc declared. Yuan could almost taste the venom in her next words. “You will swear to destroy this ‘Manhattan,’ any students he might have taken up, and do everything in your power to ruin his plans, whatever they are.”

  Yuan immediately shot her proposition down. “I’m nowhere near strong enough to pull that off. I wish I was, but that’s beyond me for now.”

  “I’m not going to put a time limit in the oath. I don’t care if it takes you years or decades to reach his level just so long as you keep working to that end.” Arc issued a warning. “But if you pass over a reasonable opportunity to destroy that monster or abandon this goal, the oath will destroy your core. I won’t budge on this.”

  Yuan winced as he figured out the oath’s full and deadly consequences. “My bullet-core keeps me alive. If breaking the Unspeakable Vow destroys it–”

  “Yeah, you’ll die.” Arc shrugged her shoulders. “Those are my conditions. Take it or leave it.”

  Yuan crossed his arms. His first instinct was to say no, then fuck no.

  Manhattan wasn’t Slash; Yuan had no score to settle with him, nor anything to gain from taking on such a dangerous and powerful cultivator, even with a generous time limit. The fact he would die should he fail to fulfill the contract only made it worse.

  However… However, this woman was a Fifth Coil Gunsoul. One of the greatest warriors of the Unmade World, who fought a foe capable of wiping out cities on his own and beat him. Yuan knew many cultivators would have killed their own parents for an apprenticeship under such a prestigious teacher, not to mention that she followed the same Path he did. What were the odds that he would find another Gunsoul of her caliber willing to teach him? Even Revolver had yet to cross the Fifth Coil.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Yuan had to think this through carefully. It was literally a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.

  “You know I’ll use those techniques you teach me to take revenge on my murderers,” Yuan said. “I thought you didn’t want me to kill?”

  “Any graves you’ll fill will be a fraction of the death that Manhattan will sow in his wake, and you wouldn’t agree to a Vow that prevented you from killing or defending yourself.” Arc snorted. “Don’t take it the wrong way. If I could hunt down this Manhattan myself, I would. You’re just a sniper’s bullet that I’m firing at him. Nothing more.”

  Yuan could live with that, but another part of the oath bothered him. “What if I encounter a well-meaning Nuclear Path cultivator?”

  “You won’t, because they don’t exist. Nuclear Path cultivators are like us Gunsouls: ghosts given a half-life by a curse greater than them, except their patron isn’t satisfied with petty revenge and shootouts.” Arc spat at the ground, her saliva turning into liquid gunpowder. “To join the Nuclear Path is to become death, the destroyer of worlds.”

  Yuan squinted. He thought the Gun was one of a kind, yet here that woman suggested other demigods of violence haunted the Unmade World? Whatever the case, she spoke with such loathing and confidence that he leaned on believing her. Manhattan clearly radiated malevolence and Czar Zoa destroyed a whole city. Neither gave him a good impression of their chosen Path.

  “You’ll teach me everything?” Yuan asked. “Even how to create an Authority?”

  “Yes,” she replied flatly. “I can’t guarantee you’ll have the talent and discipline to pull it off, but I’ll teach you the process to create your own Authority.”

  When she put it that way… Yuan couldn’t imagine any Sect Elder agreeing to teach that secret to an outsider. He was years and many Coils away from using an Authority, but the mere promise of learning how to use one tempted him greatly.

  He had to check if she was trying to hoodwink him.

  “I’ll need access to your ammo stash too,” Yuan said. “I’ve signed a contract with the people waiting outside your Authority. It’s not an Unspeakable Vow, but a deal is a deal.”

  “You’ll have to fulfill it by yourself,” she replied, immediately shooting down the proposal. “What I can do is teach you how to make your own bullets. Then you can solve the ammo shortage and shoulder the burden of responsibility, if you can carry it.”

  She was putting her foot down on a few details, so she wasn’t promising him the moon either. Her proposal was a serious one. If Yuan followed her teachings, gaining a qi pill to reach the Third Coil would be within his reach; Slash’s death too.

  “Fine,” Yuan decided after a moment’s consideration. He would never receive another offer like this one. “I accept your terms.”

  “Then put your hand on your bullet-core.”

  Yuan obeyed the order and waited. Arc waited a moment, then grabbed her cloak and unveiled her right arm.

  Yuan blinked in shock at what he saw. Arc’s silver bullet-core pulsated on her right breast, tendrils of lead sprouting out of it like a tree’s roots. It had done more than weave itself into her flesh; it cannibalized it. A twisted mass of barrels and cylinders replaced her right shoulder and arm, with a sniper rifle sprouting out of what used to be her hand.

  She looked sick.

  “I warned you to abandon the Path of the Gun,” Arc said, her left hand touching her bullet-core. “You can still back down.”

  Yuan hardened his resolve. He didn’t care how he looked so long as he became strong enough to get his revenge. “Humanity is overrated.”

  “Your loss,” Arc muttered words under her breath, then uttered her oath out loud. “I vow on my core to teach you everything I know, so long as you swear never to be a friend to the Nuclear Path cultivators. Swear to defeat this Manhattan, whatever his true name may be, and those who follow his Path. Swear to oppose his plans whenever possible. Swear to destroy him, even if it takes you centuries. Do so, and I swear to make you my disciple. I swear to teach you all that I know about cultivation.”

  “I vow on my core to never be a friend to a Nuclear Path cultivator,” Yuan repeated, though he slightly amended the rest of the oath. “I will defeat Manhattan and those who follow his Path once I wield the power to do so. I shall oppose their plans whenever possible or reasonable. I swear I will destroy him in time.”

  He immediately sensed an invisible grip close on his bullet-core; a force emanating from the Dao itself took heed of his words and fashioned a chain with them. A faint pressure began to weigh on his very soul, subtle and hardly noticeable. It remained with him after he completed his oath, ensuring he wouldn’t forget his promise.

  The Unspeakable Vow would follow him to its fulfillment. He couldn’t back down anymore.

  “You’re either a fool or quite determined,” Arc commented as she covered her right arm with her cloak again. “Whatever. A vow is a vow, so I’ll teach you everything I know.”

  Yuan nodded sharply. “I am ready to learn.”

  “Then show me your weapons.”

  Yuan presented her with the Saint Heckler and the Kalash Angel. Arc snatched them out of his hands one after another, then put them on the nearby workbench with clear displeasure.

  “You’ve got the wrong mindset, the Scrap mindset,” she scolded him. “These firearms are tools, not power. They can help now and then, but if you start relying on them, then they’ll become crutches you can’t win without. You must first learn to rely on your own aptitude before you start supplementing them with weaponry.”

  Yuan listened in dutiful silence, the same way he’d seen cultivator students shut up whenever their Elders spoke. He suddenly noticed a tiny, yet very telling detail.

  Arc hadn’t asked him his name.

  She didn’t think he would survive long enough for her to bother learning it. He was a stray bullet shot in a random direction, with no expectation of hitting the correct target.

  Yuan was determined to prove her wrong.

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