Song’s tears were stripped away by the wind as he drove Bongbong faster and faster. The horse shifted into a gallop, hooves pounding the dry, cracked dirt into flying clumps.

  He rode as fast as he could, out past the river and into the pastures where nobody else could see him cry. Or hear him rage against the unfairness of it all, as he cursed the Dark Dreamer and the Verdant Mother as well as Cyrus and any of the True Immortals that might be listening.

  Song steered Bongbong in the direction of the sheep pastures, not wanting to chance upon any of his family members. The sheep and goats of Changpo were largely under the watch of the Jo family, one of the three great families of Changpo. While they didn’t have any foundation level cultivators like the Lee’s, they still had many refinement level cultivators of their own.

  He found a stubby saksaul tree, more like a very tall shrub than a giant of the forest, its needles green even under the oppressive summer sun. Its gnarled branches provided a little bit of shade and a place to hitch Bongbong while Song collapsed against its trunk and considered the absolute ruin of his life. Tears streaked his face, and snot dribbled out of his nose in yellow rivers; all the accumulated stress and worry of the past week poured out of him in a sticky flood.

  Bongbong nickered with concern, coming close and nuzzling Song’s face.

  “Not now, Bongbong,” Song mumbled, pushing the horse away. Its black mane dropped down and tickled his red nose, and he sneezed.

  The big brown chestnut gelding grew insistent, pushing closer and rubbing its cheek on Song’s face. Then it started flopping its gums and licking at his cheeks.

  “You big greedy guts. You just like the salt!” Song laughed between his tears, ineffectually pushing the big beast away. “Here! Take this and leave me in peace!”

  Song pulled a few slices of dried daikon from his belt pouch and held it out to his horse. Bongbong sniffed, then gently lipped the sweet treats away, neighing and stamping its feet with pleasure. Then it turned a few times under the scant shade of the saksaul tree and lay down.

  Song shuffled over to lean against his horse’s belly, taking some comfort in the woosh of its breath and the feel of its fur. “You’ve got a big belly full of grass, huh, Bongbong. I just ate meat buns, so why does mine feel like it's full of water?”

  Song sighed and stared into the sky. “What am I going to do, Bongbong? I wish you’d form your core and learn the tongue of men. Maybe you could be my teacher, then. You’d teach me how to laze in the sun, eat grass, and enjoy life.”

  Bongbong’s reply was a lazy whoosh of his breath and a flick of his tail.

  “Would you like a song, Bongbong?” Song asked, reaching up and pulling his topshur down from the saddle. He had two of the wood and horse-hair lutes– a small twin-string travel version that he usually kept strapped to his saddle cantle, and the more ornate three-string in his tent. Song gently strummed a few notes on the horse-headed instrument, turning the tuning pegs as he did so. “I’ll play your favourite, ‘The Galloping Horses of Prince Chi’.”

  He played slowly at first, then faster, his strumming soon resembling the hoofbeats of a dozen horses. The topshur was the one thing Song was truly good at, that and his singing. Wook always laughed that Mother and Father had chosen the wrong ancient hanja for his name, and instead of the character for ‘star’, they should've used ‘voice’. Though it’d been Tae who’d penned that hateful ‘little Song’ piece that Mae loved to sing.

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  Song’s fingers flew across the strings as he tried to drown out his sorrows with music. But not a single note left his lips; he didn’t have the heart for it.

  Under the noonday sun, horse and rider rested for a short while, letting the plaintive notes of the topshur and the bleating of sheep carry their worries away. Though what worries a horse could have, Song didn’t know.

  Even that didn’t last long. True to himself, Song was back on his feet a mere fifteen minutes later, pouring his rage into something more productive. Namely firing arrow after arrow at the hapless tree.

  So what if Seojoon was right about the present? He, Song, just had to prove him wrong in the future. And the best way to do that was the way he always had. Practice, practice, practice.

  Mother was right, men were impatient. He’d only been a man a single week, and yet he already wanted success to fall into his lap. So what if shooting a bow was difficult? He’d spent over a month on the first form of Goat Stance! He’d spend a year on the bow if it proved necessary.

  Mouths would flap, but let them. He may not have his horns, but he was still a stubborn goat of the Lee family.

  It was when Song climbed the short trunk of the saksaul tree to fetch an arrow that he spotted it. Far off across the field, a large and low slung green shape with a bushy yellow tail and an aura of menace was stalking towards one of the flocks.

  A grasswolf.

  Thorn Toothed Grasswolves were the scourge of the plains, Demonic Beasts formed when a wolf pack’s underground den grew too heavy with the thick Earth and Wood qi of Nakjo. Usually a high concentration of qi was fatal to mortals, but sometimes they deviated into horrific monsters of razor sharp grass and mud instead. Grasswolves were difficult to kill, had the strength of a refinement level cultivator at the minimum, and were always hungry.

  If left unculled they could grow into enormous packs that decimated entire villages. They killed not just for food, but for sport, and a single grasswolf could wipe out an entire herd if left unchecked. There was a reason the Emperor had put a bounty on them.

  Song’s eyes scanned the flock, unable to spot any of the Jo family shepherds. Were they lying down on the job? Damn! That flock served as food for the entire village, and there would be hungry mouths this winter if the grasswolf was allowed to attack. But what could be expected from the lazy Jos!? They were as much sheep as their charges!

  Ideas shot through Song’s mind as the grasswolf inched forward. It hadn’t noticed him yet; he was downwind and a good distance away… if he left, it wouldn’t follow. Children learned from a young age to never engage a grasswolf. Of all the Demonic Beasts of Nakjo, they were the most likely to attack and kill a human. The others, like the Pheasant Tailed Red Hawks or Iron Footed Golden Jackals, were more wary of the dangers posed by human cultivators.

  He should run and get help; that would be the correct thing for a child to do.

  But Song wasn’t a child anymore. He was a man.

  His grip on the arrow firmed, and he yanked it free, then hopped down from the tree, doing his best to avoid making too much noise.

  “Bongbong, come here,” he whispered.

  Bongbong seemed to understand that something was wrong from his tone, or had caught the grasswolf’s scent. Its ears were up and its nostrils flared as it looked wildly around the grasses. It came immediately when called, silently bobbing its head at Song, indicating that he should hop on.

  Song lay his hand on Bongbong’s muzzle, trying to keep it calm. “There’s a grasswolf about. Shh, shh. We’re going to try and lead it away, okay? Do you think you can outrun it?”

  Bongbong couldn’t speak, but as Song stared into his noble mount’s eyes he felt like the horse replied, Let’s do this.

  “Good.” Song placed his bow over his shoulder, checked that he had all his arrows and then jumped onto Bongbong’s back. The horse reared as Song expertly turned it in the direction of the grasswolf. “Hyah!”

  Song and Bongbong burst out from behind the saksaul tree with a thundering of hooves, Song screaming “GRASSWOLF!” at the top of his lungs.

  Well you can find out by coming to the Patreon! Where we are currently at.... chapter 35ish as of later today. That'll put you about two months ahead!