PD -Chapter 162 The Black Jade Revolver

I used to be something of a firearms enthusiast, so I knew that the mechanical structure of a revolver was actually quite simple…

Nothing more than a barrel, a cylinder, a trigger, a firing pin, and a few smaller mechanical components. But the parts of the gun before us were astonishingly intricate. There were even numerous gears resembling those found in a clock, and I had no idea what purpose they served.

Old Que waved us farther back before placing the box on a workbench. He fitted a watchmaker’s magnifying lens over one eye and began assembling the weapon.

We stood nearby and watched in silence. His hands were steady and swift, completely unlike those of a man who had spent years addicted to alcohol.

Yet every time he assembled several parts, he would pause to take a swig of liquor. It left me thoroughly puzzled. Could this guy really never get drunk?

The process lasted about twenty minutes.

Gradually, a pitch-black revolver took shape in his hands.

He picked it up and spun the cylinder. The internal mechanisms produced a series of crisp clicking sounds as they rotated, a strangely satisfying noise.

“Your original idea was to engrave different talismans and formations onto the bullets beforehand, giving them various attack effects. That would work, but it’s foolish. And more importantly, it isn’t flexible enough.”

Old Que examined the black revolver repeatedly as he spoke. It was hard to tell whether he was talking to us or merely thinking aloud.

“I modified the gun itself according to your intended use and reversed your entire concept. The bullets don’t need pre-engraved inscriptions. You can load them just like ordinary ammunition.”

“I’ve built a mechanism into the firing pin. By activating it with spiritual power and using different spiritual imprints, the mechanism can instantly inscribe various runes and formations onto a loaded bullet. Then the firing pin strikes the gunpowder and launches the round from the barrel—all in one seamless motion.”

Click.

As he spoke, Old Que cocked the hammer and beckoned me over.

I hesitated but walked up to him.

“Hold it. Wrap it with your spiritual power.”

He handed me the revolver.

After a moment’s hesitation, I accepted it.

The black jade revolver was surprisingly heavy. Holding it with both hands, I followed his instructions and circulated my spiritual energy into my palms.

Golden light immediately enveloped the gun.

Then, in that instant, I realized something was wrong.

My spiritual power was pouring out like a flood.

The revolver was actually consuming my energy!

“Don’t move. Hold it steady!”

I was just about to forcefully withdraw my spiritual power when Old Que barked the order from beside me.

Cursing inwardly, I gritted my teeth and endured.

Only then did I realize that even if I wanted to pull my energy back, I couldn’t.

The gun seemed almost alive.

It latched onto the spiritual power within my body and began tugging at it, as if engaged in a tug-of-war.

After thinking it over, I decided Old Que had no reason to harm me. My earlier panic faded, and I allowed the revolver to continue devouring my spiritual energy.

Not only that, I poured even more power into it.

I unleashed all the spiritual energy in my body at once, sending it surging toward my hands.

The process continued for more than ten seconds.

Finally, the pulling force vanished.

I let out a sigh of relief and immediately raised the gun to inspect it. I discovered that the firing pin now emitted a faint golden glow.

“Good. The awakening was successful.”

Old Que glanced at the revolver and took another drink.

His words left me stunned.

I’d heard of blades being sharpened or awakened before, but a revolver that fired bullets?

That was a first.

“Actually, that was also a test,” Old Que explained after swallowing his liquor, baring his teeth in a grin.

“I wanted to see whether the precision mechanisms I’d built inside the gun could withstand your spiritual power. At the same time, it served as a form of ownership recognition.”

“Ownership recognition?”

“Don’t get excited too soon. The Seven-Colored Divine Stone is an artifact from ancient times. No one possesses the ability to truly nurture it into a soul weapon.”

“So what I call ownership recognition is merely a temporary process—allowing the gun’s mechanisms to adapt to your spiritual power, while allowing you to adapt to the gun.”

“And remember this: you can’t use this weapon whenever you feel like it.”

“You felt it just now. Every shot it fires will consume an enormous amount of your spiritual energy.”

I casually examined the gun and flipped open the cylinder, hoping to glimpse the internal structure Old Que had described.

Yet the weapon appeared perfectly complete.

Its mechanisms were concealed so flawlessly that there wasn’t the slightest clue visible from the outside.

At this point, it looked no different from an ordinary revolver.

“Oh, right.”

Old Que muttered something else, set down his bottle, and climbed a staircase leading to the upper loft.

After considerable effort, he dragged down a wooden crate.

Cough! Cough! Cough!

With a heavy thud, he dropped the crate at my feet.

The exertion exhausted him so much that he collapsed onto the floor and began coughing violently.

His face suddenly turned pale, and I noticed traces of blood in his palm.

Frowning, I lowered my head and asked whether he was alright.

Still seated on the floor, Old Que simply waved his hand dismissively.

After catching his breath for quite a while, he finally spoke.

“I told you long ago—my fate is already exhausted. There’s no need to worry about things like this.”

I sighed.

Who knew how many years ago Old Que had originally lived? He had survived until now only because of the Spirit Essence Pills prolonging his life.

Now that he no longer wished to continue…

And with this revolver having consumed the last of his strength…

I feared—

This would be his final masterpiece.

More likely, it would be the final masterpiece ever produced by the Queyi Sect.

While I was lost in thought, Old Que stood up again and opened the crate.

From inside, he took out a paper-wrapped package and handed it to me.

I accepted it and unwrapped the paper.

Inside were the revolver’s bullets.

These rounds differed from ordinary full-metal ammunition.

Their projectile heads were entirely black, clearly forged from black jade, while the rear casings containing the gunpowder were made of ordinary brass.

In this way, the black jade became the primary means of harming the enemy.

And according to Old Que’s earlier explanation, once a bullet was chambered, all I had to do was channel spiritual power as I normally would when performing Daoist techniques.

The gun’s internal mechanisms would automatically inscribe runes, talismans, or even more complex formations onto the bullet.

Then it would fire the black jade round, carrying the power of those formations and inscriptions with it.

“Alright, everything has been handed over to you.”

“Before using it in actual combat, find a place to test it first.”

With that, Old Que picked up his liquor bottle again and waved us away.

Watching him return to the tiny shack he lived in within the factory grounds, we had no choice but to leave.

Still, we couldn’t help worrying about him.

No one knew how much time he had left.