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The fire crackled, sparks shooting in the air. I did not flinch from where I sat on the ground, sanding the shaft of my arrows to make them leaner. Faster. The work was not necessary but it kept my hands busy and my mind, silent. A corner of my mouth tilted into a mocking smile. Just a few months ago I had been studying in the Chamber of Reflection, and now I was preparing my arrows to slay a monster.

Xiangliu, the nine-headed serpent, had fled the Immortal Realm to the world below. It plagued the nearby villages, flooding their rivers and snatching up victims to feed its insatiable appetite. While mortal warriors had long tried to bring this creature down, they were no match for its strength and cunning. I wondered why the Celestial Emperor had waited till now to send his forces, just as he let the sunbirds roam unchecked for so long. I did not think it was a conscious cruelty, but rather the detached triviality with which a mortal might view the life of an insect, unable to comprehend its suffering. It wasn’t only the emperor; many immortals shared this view. Perhaps I might have been like them if mortal blood did not run in my veins. If my thoughts of my mother and father were not entwined with this place.

I stared at the mountain that rose from the ground. Shadow Peak, this place was called. In the fading light, the dark rock glistened as though coated in a layer of grease. This was nothing like how I imagined the Mortal Realm would be when I had gazed from above. No glowing lanterns, no laughing children, not even a single tree to adorn the barren land. Just a tautness in the air akin to the moment a storm breaks.

I shifted on the ground, the metal pressing against my shoulders and ribs. Shuxiao had not exaggerated its weight. It struck me as a bad joke that I was now clad in the same armor which had roused such fear in me before. But this was my choice.

I thought back to the night I had left the Courtyard of Eternal Tranquility. Determined not to delay any longer, I had sought out General Jianyun and accepted his offer to join the Celestial Army.

“Excellent.” He had smiled then, a rare occurrence. “Have you informed His Highness? He should—”

“He knows.” My nerves had been too frayed to traverse the winding path of courtesy. I bowed to him again, hoping the gesture would take the sting from my next words. “General Jianyun, I thank you for this opportunity, but I have a few terms.”

“Oh?” The single syllable somehow conveyed both indignation and amusement at my temerity.

“I don’t need an official rank or remuneration. What I want is the freedom to choose my own campaigns and to be acknowledged for my achievements.” My body tensed, bracing for his disapproval.

A scowl twisted his lips. Was he displeased by my audacity? But I knew my own worth now and was no longer just grateful to be granted any opportunity. I would not plow through the ranks for a meaningless title or power I did not covet. Nor would I so readily place my future in the hands of another. Those most trusted could still let you down, even when they did not mean to—a lesson I had learned with Liwei, and one I learned well.

General Jianyun folded his arms across his chest, fixing me with a fierce stare. “That’s not how it’s done. The commanders form their troops for each assignment, considering each soldier’s experience and skill. We all serve the best interests of the Celestial Kingdom.”

“As will I.” Such hollow words I spoke. I did not do this out of loyalty to the Celestial Kingdom; all I wanted was the Crimson Lion Talisman. But it would be no easy feat to shine brighter than the other warriors. And so, in this night filled with stars, I would chart my own path to blaze across the sky. I would pursue the opportunities which I believed would capture the Celestial Emperor’s attention. I would earn the talisman, the key to my mother’s freedom—the sole ambition that burned in me unchanged throughout the years, now unfettered by my weak heart. It shamed me, how I had hesitated before. I would never have forgotten my mother, I would have done all I could to help her . . . but happiness had a way of blunting one’s edge, of dulling one’s urgency. Never again, I vowed.

Finally, General Jianyun had relented. Awarded the nondescript rank of “Archer,” I had joined Captain Wenzhi’s troop—the only commander I knew and, more importantly, a celebrated one who would be assigned the most crucial campaigns.

I had cursed that decision in the weeks to follow, however—shooting targets until my fingers bruised, sparring until I could no longer stand, and weaving enchantments until I was as drained as a wrung-out washcloth. Captain Wenzhi trained his soldiers hard, and each night I had fallen into bed—my body limp and my muscles afire—eager to sink into the oblivion of slumber.

Nor was training without its dangers. Shortly after I had joined the army, Captain Wenzhi led me to an underground chamber lit by flickering torches. Gray stone lions with bulbous eyes lined the walls, their open jaws mimicking fearsome grins like they were mocking us. How my skin had crawled at the sight of them. The moment the captain left, the door slamming shut after him—darts hissed from the lions’ mouths, hurtling toward me faster than rain pelting down in a storm. I dropped to the floor, rolling under a ledge. But I was too slow, pain streaking across my leg. I winced as I plucked the darts from my flesh, before drawing an arrow and firing in the direction they came from. By accident more than design, I struck a lion’s mouth. Its jaws slammed shut, ending its attacks. Only after I had hit all of them—my arrows protruding from their jaws—did the barrage cease and the door swing open once more.

My blood roiled at the sight of Captain Wenzhi standing by the entrance. Had this been a test?

“Why didn’t you warn me?” I demanded.

“In a real battle, would the enemy warn you before attacking?”

“You aren’t my enemy.”

He tilted his head to one side, pinning me with his stare. “I’m glad you think so. But Archer Xingyin, your performance was dismal.”

I jutted my chin out, my pride pricked. “I shot all the lions. I escaped the trap.”

His gaze lingered on the red marks dotted across my calf, blood trickling down in thin streams. “This was the first stage in the Chamber of Lions and you still got injured. If these were coated with venom, you’d be dead.”

Shaking his head, he strode into the room and struck my arrows from the lions’ jaws. Darts sprang toward us once more. I wanted to duck, to roll to safety—but as he held his ground, I forced myself to stay beside him, my heart thumping as the sharp points hurtled ever closer. Just as I was above to dive to the ground, he flicked his hand almost negligently. A shimmering wall of ice appeared before us, the darts slamming into it.

My pride vanished like steam in the cool air. A gust of wind, a wall of flame—any of these would have worked! While I had learned to summon my magic effortlessly, its use did not come instinctively to me. Perhaps I had managed without it for too long. When attacked, my first instinct was to retaliate with my hands and feet. Like a mortal, I thought silently. True to my roots.

His voice hardened. “The most powerful warriors are proficient in both combat and magic. You wouldn’t survive long on fighting skills alone, nor can you rely on just magic. If you did, you would soon find your energy exhausted. A most dangerous circumstance. No matter what is happening, keep a clear mind to judge when to use your power for greatest impact. But don’t hesitate to use it when necessary.”

His words struck me. Eager to prove myself, I had returned to this chamber on my own. Each time the traps had been a little harder; sometimes spikes shot through the ground or fire erupted from the walls. I ended the sessions sore and bruised, blood dripping from my wounds. It was only later that I learned the Chamber of Lions was reserved for the army’s most skilled warriors. While most had taken months, a year even to master every trap, it took me a matter of weeks.

And I was stronger, faster, more powerful than I had ever been.

But was I ready for what now lay ahead? I stared at the dark mountain, trying to quell the queasiness that rose in me, wondering if I had made the right choice in coming here—my first battle against a monster so fearsome, its very name cowed immortals into silence.

Someone approached, footsteps treading over the earth. I was glad for the distraction from my bleak thoughts.

“Archer Xingyin, I’ve been searching for you.” Captain Wenzhi sank down beside me. “There are things you should know of Xiangliu.”