The sun sat high in the sky over the Nakjo plains as the sound of nickering, bickering, and playing horses was punctuated by a rhythmic *thwack*. Not of an arrow hitting wood, but of string striking flesh.

  *Thwack!*

  “Agh!” Song hissed, holding back an oath. He grabbed at his red and freshly bleeding inner elbow where the string had nicked him just above his bracer. He’d practiced for hours with this blasted thing and it still felt unfamiliar in his hands.

  And as much as Song wished he could just hide away in the Lee family compound and not show his hornless head to anyone ever again, he still had chores to do. Namely horse herding.

  The horses of the Nakjo plains were shorter and thicker than their Northern cousins, with shaggier coats and coarse manes. But they were also strong, and hardy; more willing to walk into the thick of battle and more likely to live through it. They were a valuable commodity and traders came from all over the empire to purchase them from his Lee family.

  Over their 200 years of history in Changpo village since fleeing the Imperial purge of the Kongtong Sect and Sima Clan’s remnants, the Lee family and its branches had grown to be over a hundred strong. They now had the biggest herds for many li around, and were one of the main suppliers of Nakjo horses to the imperial army.

  “You know, I bet I’ll be able to hit that target with a hayseed sooner than Song will with that bow,” Tae remarked. He stripped a few seeds from a tall piece of grass with his teeth and spat them expertly in the direction of the target. They sailed over Song’s head, but fell far short.

  “Tae!” Juwon admonished, but his eyes crinkled with laughter.

  “Give it time, little brother!” Wook called encouragingly. “You’ll build callouses as thick as the ones on your knuckles eventually!”

  Song whirled and advanced on his three brothers. They were arrayed behind him on horseback, sitting high in their saddles while keeping close watch on the herd. It was far past rutting season, so the stallions weren’t snappish, but as the summer wore on Demonic Beast attacks would become more common. Usually desperate Iron Footed Golden Jackals or Pheasant Tailed Red Hawks like Kkongi.

  “Do you think this is funny?” Song demanded.

  Tae’s mouth opened, then whooshed shut as Juwon’s fist connected with his stomach.

  “No, little brother,” Juwon replied seriously. “We’re just trying to cheer you up.”

  “Well you’re doing a bad job.”

  The three scratched their chins, heads, and various other locations as they looked properly abashed.

  “Wook,” Song pointed at his third brother. “How would you feel if all your proud muscles were suddenly worthless? All the effort you put into them turned to pig slop?”

  Wook looked at his arm and flexed it. “Muscles are never worthless.”

  “He’d cry harder than a newborn babe,” Tae laughed.

  “And you, Tae!” Song whirled on his second brother. “I’ve seen you fussing over your Sign. Polishing your horns to make them look more impressive. Showing off to everyone with pride that you’re a cultivator. Imagine if your Sign was only visible if you were naked!”

  “Don’t give him ideas…” Juwon muttered. “But you’ve made your point, Song.”

  “Good! Then leave me alone.”

  Song stalked back to his line, and drew his bow as the family’s martial instructor had kindly shown him, laying it flat and nocking an arrow to the string. Every mortal warrior on the plains learned how to shoot a bow from the time they could walk, so why was this so hard!?

  He took a deep breath and simultaneously raised the bow vertically and drew it.

  Breathe in, breathe out.

  Head of stone. Heart of steel. Hold your tongue. Hide your thoughts.

  Breathe in, breathe out.

  Loose!

  *Thwack!* “Agh! Son of a monkey’s wh–”

  This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

  “Language!” Juwon snapped.

  Song made to throw the bow down and paused halfway. He took a deep breath and once more spread his legs and entered a shooting stance.

  Wook descended from his horse and walked up to their youngest. “We’re sorry, Song. We’re just worried about you.”

  Tears welled up at the corners of Song’s eyes, and he lowered the bow to wipe them away. “I know. You think I don’t know?? What am I going to do, Wook? I have no skill with the bow, and my arms are too thick with muscles in all the wrong places.”

  Wook shrugged. “You’ll overcome it, or figure something out. You always have. You may not have any horns, but you’ve always been the most hard-headed of all of us.”

  “Hard-headed is an insult, elder brother…”

  Wook laughed. “Not to me, it isn’t! It’s only been a couple days. Just keep at it. It took you months to properly do the first form of Goat Stance.”

  “And I had you to help me, and Father to correct my footwork. It was fun! This feels… like I’m nothing but a burden.” Song looked downcast, then grunted with surprise as Wook pulled him into a tight brotherly hug.

  “You’re not a burden, little brother.”

  “Really? What use is a Void cultivator to our Lee Family?” Song said, pulling away. “I can’t wrestle the horses. Can’t block a bandit’s blade. Even if I learn this stupid weapon, I’ll have to spend the rest of my life shooting foes from a distance like a coward! There’s a reason people talk about the Rising Dragon of Wudang, and the Icy Flower of Emei, but not the guy in the back with the bow.”

  Wook was silent as Song fired once more, this time successfully sending an arrow off into the horizon without hitting his elbow.

  “Watch the horses!” Juwon called.

  “Sorry!”

  “There’s lots you could do,” Wook finally said. “Void cultivators are more comfortable in the dark than anyone else. Having someone that can easily scout at night would be useful. That’s not a popular job. Void cultivators are usually the fastest – ”

  “At running away!”

  “Or at delivering messages on the battlefield! Or chasing after an escaped horse when nobody else has a steed. Song, you don’t need to try and find your place in the family, that’s quite literally the job of the Patriarch. You just do your best to improve, find your martial path, and let Father figure out where best to put you. And besides, you can’t tell me that in all the martial tales you’ve read, there wasn’t one about a famed archer.”

  Song loosed another arrow and this time it landed within a dozen paces of the target.

  “See, you’re getting better.” Wook said, clapping him on the shoulder. “And if you’re getting discouraged, calm down and meditate. Or go for a run.”

  Song thought of that dark space in his mindscape, lit only by the faint light of a constellation, and the mirror within it that held his terrible secret. No, not meditation. He went and hung his bow up on the saddle of his beloved horse, Bongbong, and muttered, “I’ll go for a run.”

  “Fine. But don’t go too far. I saw what looked like grasswolf sign earlier,” Juwon instructed. “If you see or hear anything strange, come back immediately.”

  “Yes, first brother.” Song did a few stretches to limber up then broke into an easy jog. His legs churned, eating up the grasses as he circled the herd in a wide arc. The herd’s dominant stallion raised its head and slowly tracked him with a wary eye. The mares didn’t even glance his way as they nibbled at the grasses that served as their primary form of sustenance.

  Throughout the herd, Lee branch family members brushed coats, milked mares, and cared for foals.

  Song let his mind clear as he ran. The familiar feeling of the wind in his hair and of his smoothly moving muscles helped to ground him. His body was light, and agile, and he soon kicked it up a notch.

  Wook was right. He wasn’t the one responsible for finding his place in the Lee family. And yes, he was thirteen now, but he was also only thirteen. A cultivator could have a long life, two hundred years or more. He could ask the Lee family warrior instructors to give him a few pointers on the bow, and then do as he always did. Work hard, and never give up

  He put his head down, and sprinted, letting his cares wash away in pure adrenaline.

  He ran in circles around the herd until sweat poured down his face and the heat forced him to come to a gasping stop alongside his brothers.

  “Good job out there,” Wook said, handing him a wet towel. “You’re much faster than you used to be. Your new Void qi is serving your body well. I see you finally fixed your form, too; I told you that you were too upright. How did it feel?”

  Song paused as he wiped his sweat away. “Pardon?”

  “Your running form!” Wook laughed. “It’s perfect. I spotted it when you ran away from us the other day!”

  Song stared at his brother, a knot forming in his stomach. He hadn’t changed his running form. It’d been the same familiar form that he’d always used. Hadn't it?

  Song managed a tight smile, “Thank you, elder brother. I practiced.”

  “That is what you do best!" Wook slapped his brother in the back and walked back to his horse.

  Song turned away, not wanting his brothers to spot the horror growing within him.

  While qi warped the body and granted it strength and flexibility, it couldn't grant new skills. But perhaps an Inner Demon could.

  It looked like he did need to meditate.

  But first, he had to prepare. No matter what happened when he confronted his Inner Demon, his family needed to be safe.