The Weapon Genius: Anything I Hold Can Kill-Chapter 39: The Rise of Qī Shā

For a moment, there was nothing.

Just the sound of their breathing, the faint drip of water from the sprinkler pipes, and the distant hum of electricity still crackling from Joon's gloves.

Jin didn't move.

None of them did.

They just stared at the pile of charred corpses, waiting for it to do what they already knew it would.

Then it twitched.

A subtle, jerking motion — like a muscle spasm.

Then another.

Seul's voice barely rose above a whisper.

"It's starting again."

The pile convulsed, bodies snapping upright, bones clicking together as the entire mass caved inward like an unseen force was pulling it.

Joon wiped his face.

"I hate the system," he muttered.

The corpse pile rippled, flesh melting like wax, sliding over itself in slow, sickening waves.

Bodies cracked open, limbs splitting apart, only to bend backward and weave into each other.

It wasn't chaotic.

It was intentional.

The corpses weren't just sticking together — they were arranging themselves, like they knew exactly where to go.

Seul exhaled sharply.

"It's... building something."

Joon stepped back, palms sparking with faint traces of electricity.

"Yeah, well, tell it to find a new hobby instead," he muttered.

Jin didn't blink.

He just watched.

The flesh merged, stretching upward, and something massive began to take shape.

A torso emerged first, broad and impossibly wide, its surface a patchwork of skin and bone. Limbs grew, folding out and then snapping into place, each movement accompanied by a wet, bone-deep crack.

Then came the heads.

They emerged one by one, each face distinct, each expression frozen in its own form of death.

One face was screaming, its jaw unhinged and split too wide.

Another face was smiling, but the lips were torn, the teeth jagged and broken.

One face had no eyes, just hollow sockets dripping with black ichor.

Another looked peaceful, like someone who had died in their sleep — except the flesh around its neck was still torn.

There were seven faces in total.

The monster's body stabilized, standing at least three times their height, its form pulsating, the faces turning slowly, like they were each waking up.

The system spoke again, voice almost... reverent.

[The Qī Shā has awakened.]

[Formation Complete.]

The creature breathed, its massive chest rising and falling, and the seven mouths began to move.

Not in unison.

They spoke separately.

"We felt your rage."

"We heard your screams."

"We know your lies."

"We saw your hope."

"We tasted your fear."

"We carried your pain."

"We counted your sins."

Joon's hands shook, his voice tight.

"I changed my mind," he whispered. "I don't want to fight this thing anymore."

Seul's gaze hardened, her fingers flexing in her gloves.

"Too late," she muttered.

The Qī Shā's heads rotated, slowly aligning to face them, its body rumbling as it shifted.

The voices merged, overlapping into a single, inhuman chorus.

"We remember you."

"We will make you one of us."

Jin exhaled.

Slow. Controlled.

He opened his inventory, his fingers steady as he selected the weapon he bought.

The staff appeared in a flash of light, solidifying in his grip.

He spun it once, the motion so fluid it was like his body already knew what to do.

The others stared.

Joon blinked.

"When the hell did you buy a stick?"

Jin tested the weight, a faint smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

"It's not a stick, it's a staff and I always wanted one," he said quietly. "Used to swing a broom around as a kid pretending it was a staff."

"Thought it was the coolest thing ever after watching some anime character use it."

Seul wiped sweat from her face.

"And now you actually know how to use it," she muttered.

Jin twirled the staff again, the motion effortless, like it had always been a part of him.

He took a step forward, eyes locked onto the Qī Shā, the creature's faces turning to follow him, mouths twitching like they were hungry.

"Yeah and now I finally get to try it out," he said.

The system chimed, the voice cold and final.

[Phase 1 Initiated.]

[Face of Violence]

"Let's begin."

The Qī Shā moved like a beast unchained.

Its massive body hunched forward, the Face of Violence split into a twisted grin, eyes rolling back as it sprinted toward Jin. Its right arm stretched, bones jutting out from the flesh, sharpening into a serrated blade made from twisted cartilage and shards of bone.

It didn't just want to kill. frёewebnoѵēl.com

It wanted to destroy.

Jin barely had time to breathe before the creature swung.

The bone blade came down like a cleaver, fast and brutal, the air howling as it sliced through.

Jin's body reacted first.

He pivoted, the staff blurring as he raised it to block. The bone collided with the metal, the impact reverberating through Jin's arms, making his bones ache from the sheer force of it.

The Qī Shā didn't pause.

It pressed harder, the bone grinding against the staff, splintering as it tried to tear through the weapon just to reach him.

Jin's fingers tightened on the staff, muscles tensing as he held his ground.

He couldn't outpower this thing.

So he'd outmaneuver it.

He let the staff dip, letting the creature's momentum carry it forward — then snapped the weapon upward, the tip slamming into the Qī Shā's jaw.

The impact snapped its head back with a sickening crack.

The monster froze.

Then it laughed.

"MORE," it rasped, voice leaking through all seven mouths.

"DO IT AGAIN."

It lunged again, moving like it had been energized by the hit.

Jin spun the staff, the motion smooth and instinctive, feet shifting as he sidestepped, narrowly avoiding another downward slash.

The moment he dodged, he countered — driving the staff into the creature's ribs, then twisting to slam the other end into its temple.

The Qī Shā's head snapped sideways.

It barely stumbled.

Instead, it laughed harder.

"BEAUTIFUL," it hissed.

"BREAK ME. TEAR ME. SHOW ME YOUR VIOLENCE."

It swung wildly, the bone blade arcing toward Jin's throat.

Jin ducked low, the blade missing by inches, and he immediately jabbed upward, the staff striking the creature's sternum like a battering ram.

The hit should've sent it reeling.

It barely even flinched.

The Qī Shā twisted, and before Jin could pull back, it kicked him in the chest.

Jin's feet left the ground.

He flew backward, crashing into the pavement, the impact knocking the wind out of him.

The Qī Shā didn't follow.

It just stood there, watching him get up — the Face of Violence vibrating with glee.

"YES," it moaned.

"STRUGGLE. FIGHT. RUIN YOURSELVES."

Its bone blade twisted, reshaping itself mid-breath, growing spikes along the edge like it was trying to become deadlier.

"EVERY TIME YOU HURT ME," it rasped, "I LOVE YOU MORE."

"MOVE!"

Seul's shout echoed, and she sprinted toward the Qī Shā, her gloves glowing faintly.

The creature turned to face her, but she was already closing the distance — and when she swung, her fist dropped like an anvil, the gravity around it warping as she increased its weight mid-punch.

Her knuckles smashed into the monster's ribs with a bone-crushing impact.

The shockwave rippled outward, cracking the pavement beneath them.

The Qī Shā finally staggered, its body jerking to the side, the flesh denting inward from the force of her strike.

For a moment, it didn't move.

Then the Face of Violence tilted slowly, neck snapping back into place as it turned to face her.

It lifted its arm, the bone blade twitching.

"HIT ME AGAIN," it whispered.

"PLEASE. SHOW ME YOUR VIOLENCE AT ITS HIGHEST PEAK."

Seul's eyes widened.

It swung for her head.

A bolt of electricity shot through the darkness, arcing across the plaza and slamming into the Qī Shā's shoulder.

The creature jerked, the flesh charring, but it didn't stop moving.

Joon ran in, his gloves sparking, electricity crawling up his arms like living veins.

He ducked low, skidding under the Qī Shā's slash, then punched upward, releasing a burst of lightning point-blank into its stomach.

The Qī Shā twitched, its muscles seizing for a second — and then it grabbed Joon by the throat, lifting him into the air like he weighed nothing.

"YOU FIGHT TOO," it said, almost affectionately.

"GOOD. I LIKE YOU."

Joon gritted his teeth, electricity crackling around his body, and he gripped the creature's wrist, sending more voltage surging through its arm.

The Qī Shā's flesh bubbled and burned.

It just laughed.

Then the Face of Violence shifted — and one of the other faces rotated forward.

A face they'd never seen before.

It opened its mouth, and an invisible force exploded outward, hurling Joon across the plaza like a rag doll.

He slammed into a wall, coughing up blood.

Seul's breath hitched.

"It's using abilities," she whispered.

Jin wiped the blood off his mouth, dragging himself to his feet, staff still clenched in his hands.

The Qī Shā rotated its faces back, letting the Face of Violence reemerge, the grin widening, almost like it was giddy.

"YES," it whispered.

"YOU'RE SO MUCH FUN."

Jin exhaled slowly, chest heaving, feet steadying beneath him.

He lifted the staff, adjusting his grip.

"Round two," he muttered.

The Qī Shā tilted its head.

Then it charged again.

The Qī Shā lunged like a starving animal, limbs twisting unnaturally as it closed the distance.

Jin planted his feet, heart slamming against his ribs, and met the charge head-on.

He swung the staff, the metal whistling through the air — a flawless strike aimed directly for the creature's jaw.

The Qī Shā didn't dodge.

It let the hit land.

The staff cracked against its skull, the impact snapping its head to the side with a brutal crunch — but instead of falling, it just rolled with it, using the force of the strike to spin into a wild backhand.

Jin barely had time to react.

The creature's fist caught him in the side, and the world blurred as he was launched across the plaza, skidding across the broken ground until he slammed into the base of a collapsed statue.

Pain exploded through his body.

His vision swam.

But he didn't stop moving.

He forced himself up, ignoring the throbbing ache, the staff dragging against the ground as he steadied himself.

The Qī Shā didn't follow.

It just stood there, chest heaving, the Face of Violence trembling like it was in a state of bliss.

It spread its arms wide, almost like it was inviting them back in.

"MORE," it rasped, voice shaking with excitement.

"GIVE ME MORE."

"What the hell is wrong with this thing?" Joon wheezed, wiping blood from his mouth as he pulled himself out of the rubble.

The Qī Shā tilted its head, almost like it was listening.

Then it spoke — slowly, deliberately, each word rolling out like it was being tasted.

"Violence is... perfect."

Its fingers twitched, the bone blades splintering, growing longer, almost like it was evolving mid-fight.

"Violence is the first language," it whispered.

"The truest expression. The most honest form of existence."

It laughed, the sound wet and rattling.

"You hit me. I hit you. We bleed together. We break together."

Its body shuddered, the seven faces twitching, their mouths spasming like they were trying to speak in unison but failing.

"Isn't that love?"

Jin spat blood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"You need therapy," he muttered.

The Qī Shā tilted its head back, shaking, its laughter booming through the plaza like an echoing death knell.

"THERAPY IS COWARDICE."

It charged again.

Jin braced himself, lifting the staff, but this time the Qī Shā didn't swing.

It stopped short, one of its other faces sliding forward — the mouth opening wide.

Jin's stomach dropped.

Oh no.

The creature inhaled, and then screamed — a sonic burst ripping through the air like a shockwave, shattering the nearby windows and blowing Jin off his feet.

He hit the ground hard, ears ringing, his vision distorting from the sheer force of the sound.

"IT'S USING SKILLS!" Seul shouted, her voice warped in his buzzing head.

The Qī Shā didn't stop.

It twisted, another face rotating forward, and it slammed its hand into the ground — and the entire plaza shifted, the concrete warping like it had been softened, sending ripples through the floor as if it were liquid.

Jin's footing vanished.

He started to sink, the ground swallowing him, pulling him downward like quicksand.

"NOPE."

A surge of lightning cut through the chaos, and Joon appeared beside Jin, grabbing him and hauling him up, electricity snapping around his body as he blasted the ground to stabilize it.

The Qī Shā whipped around, its bone blade elongating, and it swung for them both — the strike fast enough to tear through the air like a whip.

Jin twisted on instinct, grabbing Joon and spinning out of the way, the staff twirling to knock the blade aside just before it split them open.

Seul charged in from behind, her gloves glowing.

She leapt, and then punched the air mid-jump — her fist so heavy with gravity that it fired her backward, sending her into a spinning aerial kick that caved in part of the Qī Shā's chest.

The monster wheezed, stumbled, and then laughed again.

It caught her ankle mid-fall.

Seul's eyes went wide.

It slammed her into the ground, then kicked her away, sending her tumbling across the plaza like a rag doll.

"Seul!" Joon roared, but he didn't get a chance to run to her — the Qī Shā was already on them again, the Face of Violence pulsing, voice sick with joy.

"YES. HURT EACH OTHER. KILL EACH OTHER."

Jin blocked another slash, his feet skidding back, body burning from the relentless pace of the fight.

But he didn't back down.

He pressed forward, the staff spinning faster, his body moving sharper — the Limitless Mastery kicking in, his technique evolving with every exchange.

The Qī Shā noticed.

Its grin split wider, the bone blade morphing, growing teeth like it was trying to match him.

"YES," it hissed.

"DON'T STOP."

Jin's breath hitched.

He lifted the staff, eyes hardening.

"I wasn't planning to."

They clashed again, the impact thundering through the air like a war drum.

The staff blurred, the metal gleaming under the flickering lights as Jin drove it forward, aiming for the Face of Violence.

The Qī Shā blocked it, catching the staff with its bone blade, the impact echoing through the plaza.

"YES," it hissed, the voice vibrating with glee.

"HIT ME. DESTROY ME."

It twisted its arm, trying to yank the staff away, but Jin didn't let go.

He spun with the motion, using the creature's momentum against it, and whipped the other end of the staff into its kneecap.

The Qī Shā staggered, the joint bending inward with a sickening crunch — and Jin didn't hesitate.

He followed up immediately, the staff flowing through his hands like an extension of his body, every movement seamless:

A downward strike to the shoulder.

A low sweep to knock it off balance.

A spinning slam to the jaw, the force of the impact splintering bone.

The Qī Shā jerked, its head snapping to the side, but it didn't fall.

It just laughed harder.

"HARDER," it shrieked.

"RUIN ME MORE."

Jin's arms burned, his breath sharp and ragged, but he didn't stop.

He couldn't stop.

Because he could feel it — the moment when the fight tipped.

The monster was faltering.

And he was keeping up.

The Qī Shā lunged, swinging the bone blade in a wide arc.

Jin dodged — barely — the tip of the blade slicing his shirt, and he rolled to the side, chest heaving.

He gripped the staff, fingers bleeding from the relentless strain, and his mind raced, searching for a way to finish it.

Then a memory surfaced.

An old anime he'd watched as a kid — one where the hero used a staff technique to pulverize a monster's skull with a flurry of rapid strikes.

He'd even mimicked the moves in his childhood bedroom, swinging around a broomstick, pretending to be invincible.

It had been stupid.

Childish.

But now...

His chest tightened.

His grip steadied.

Why not try it?

Jin charged, the staff spinning in his hands as he closed the distance.

The Qī Shā's grin widened, arms outstretched, almost like it was welcoming him in.

"YES," it howled.

"COME TO ME."

Jin leapt — and then he unleashed hell.

The staff became a blur, crashing into the Face of Violence in a relentless barrage of perfectly angled strikes.

A jaw strike to snap the teeth inward.

A temple shot to fracture the skull.

A downward smash to cave in the cheekbone.

He didn't stop to breathe.

He didn't even think.

He just attacked, every movement flowing into the next like a deadly rhythm, the staff singing through the air like a war drum.

The Qī Shā convulsed, the skull warping under the onslaught, but it still laughed, voice breaking apart from the damage.

"YES."

CRACK.

"YES."

CRUNCH.

"YES—"

BOOM.

The skull finally shattered, bone exploding outward as the Face of Violence collapsed, the head disintegrating into a cloud of foul-smelling dust.

The Qī Shā's body jerked, its laughter warping, gurgling — and then it screamed.

Not in pain.

But in pleasure.

It sounded like it was having the time of its life.

The scream echoed, shaking the entire plaza, and the Qī Shā's body started to tremble.

The flesh writhed, the remaining faces contorting, pulsing like they were trying to emerge.

The system chimed, its voice eerily calm.

[Face 1 Defeated.]

[Initiating Phase 2: Face of Suffering.]