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I stumbled back just as a soldier hurled her spear into the serpent’s stomach. Xiangliu’s cry pierced the air as its middle head reared up, eyelids snapping open to unveil two burning coals beneath. Its core! Xiangliu’s eight jaws parted, spewing a frothing, greenish liquid across the cavern, acrid and sour. Those struck screamed in anguish, falling to the ground where they writhed in agony. The acid sprayed onto my arms, foaming as it ate through the cloth, blisters blooming over my skin like crimson poppies. I would have screamed till I was hoarse, yet the searing agony—that of my skin being peeled from my flesh—snatched the air from my lungs.

Grinding my jaws until I thought they would crack, I fumbled for another arrow, drawing it through my bow. Archer Feimao stared at me, signaling for me to attack—but I was trembling too much from terror and pain. Doubt raged through me that I would miss, that I would fail, letting down everyone who depended upon me. Archer Feimao’s arrow streaked forward—just as those glowing orbs vanished—the shaft slamming against the serpent’s eyelids and shattering to fragments.

Nine mouths curved into bone-chilling smiles, those red eyes gleaming with malice as they fixed upon us. Soldiers bolted forward as Xiangliu’s tail whipped out, slamming them aside. Archer Feimao and I backed away, but two of the creature’s heads lunged out and sank their fangs into his shoulders. He screamed, doubling over in agony, blood pouring from his wounds.

I wanted to buckle over and hurl out the contents of my stomach. To weep for his pain and those of the others, battered by this vicious creature. But terror sealed my throat shut; I could not even whimper. Xiangliu slid closer, one of its heads arching toward me with a languid grace. So close, I could see myself reflected in those crimson orbs. A strange fatigue sank over me. My grip on the bow slackened as it slipped from my fingers. The serpent’s eyes flared as it opened its mouth. Pure white fangs dripped with foaming liquid. As its foul breath pierced my daze, I recoiled, blinking in confusion. My mind cleared as I swooped down to retrieve my bow.

Someone shouted—Captain Wenzhi—racing toward us, his sword arcing high. He hacked at the serpent’s belly as Xiangliu shrieked in rage, its heads swiveling to him now.

“The target!” he shouted, as he raised his shield to fend off the creature’s snapping jaws.

Those pearlescent eyelids flicked open. Red-hot coals flickered to life once more, embers in the dark. The monster’s jaws parted, spraying acid which splattered on my hands, a little across my cheek where it burned and stung like fire and ice. Black waves of agony swept over my consciousness, dragging me under . . . yet the sight of Captain Wenzhi battling the monster lit a fierce resolve in me to not let him down again.

My leg muscles clenched as I struggled to hold my ground, fighting the urge to gag from the stench of scorched flesh. Plucking two arrows from my quiver, I drew them through the string. Xiangliu’s head snapped back, my arms wavering as I fought to get a clear shot—my gaze fixing on its eyes of flame as all else blurred into the background. My arrows tore through the air, striking with a sickening squelch.

It stilled, eight pairs of ruby eyes blinking rapidly. Just when I thought I had failed, that I had missed—a great shudder rippled through its body as its heads rolled back, its necks bunching up as it collapsed onto the ground. Dust billowed in the air.

The sudden silence was startling, devoid of the screams and gasps, the rip of flesh. We exchanged stunned glances, in disbelief that the horror had ended. That we were alive. Feimao slapped me on the back, his grin morphing into a grimace as he clutched his shoulder. Someone laughed, another cheered. A wooden smile stretched across my face even though I did not feel like celebrating. My arms were blistered raw, but my insides knotted at the sight of Captain Wenzhi. The parts of his body I could see were crusted with injuries far worse than mine.

“I’m sorry.” My voice was hoarse as I looked at Feimao and the other wounded soldiers. “I missed the first chance, I lost my nerve. If I hadn’t, if I—”

“Archer Xingyin, stop apologizing.” Captain Wenzhi sounded stern, though not unkind. “No battle is perfect; few things go as planned. What matters is that Xiangliu is dead and we all walk out of here today.”

He scrutinized my injuries, his lips tightening—in disapproval, I thought. Instead of admonishing me, he pulled out a small jasper bottle, scattering several drops of a yellowish liquid onto my arms. The soothing scent of mint and herbs cut through the foul air, a coolness seeping into my skin as the pain subsided to a dull throb.

“This only numbs it.” He passed me the bottle. “Don’t try to heal yourself. Xiangliu’s acid is laced with venom that needs to be treated properly. When we return, I’ll send a healer to you.”

“Send one to yourself, too. You’re in worse shape than me.” I nodded toward his wounds.

My legs wobbled then, belying my tough words as I sank to the ground. Struck by a wave of dizziness, I pressed my forehead against my arms. We had won, yet where was the exhilaration upon striking my target? There was undeniable relief that it was over, yes, but it was tangled with this clawing tightness in my chest. Was it pity? For the creature whose life I had taken? Even worse, and buried deeper, was there . . . shame? That I had killed so easily. And that I would do so again.

Captain Wenzhi crouched down beside me. “It gets easier,” he said, as though he could read my thoughts.

“I’m afraid of that, too,” I admitted haltingly.

“Xiangliu devoured countless mortals. If not stopped, he would have killed more.”

His words gave me comfort. At least enough for my breathing to slow and my tension to ease. Staggering to my feet, I glanced down at the serpent’s body. Blood trickled from its eyes, seeping into the ground. It was a monster—not because of its appearance—but what it had done. Grasping onto that, something hardened inside me. I would not mourn what I would do again, for as many times as I had to.

Just then, a strange sensation tugged at the edge of my consciousness. Swinging around, I glimpsed something bright, deep within the cave—only visible now the late sun shone through at this angle.

“Captain Wenzhi, what’s that farther in?”

His gaze followed mine. “Is it the glare from the light?”

“I don’t think so. Do you feel anything, coming from there?” I asked.

When he shook his head, I bit my lip, wondering if I was mistaken. Yet there it was still, that pull on my mind. That faint, elusive awareness.

“I’ll inspect it and make my way back later,” I decided.

“I’ll join you. What if Xiangliu has a sibling?” He cracked a smile.

I shuddered. “As long as it doesn’t eat mortals, we can leave it in peace.”

We slipped through the narrow passageway at the end of the cave, crossing a shallow stream before emerging in a cavern. A shaft in the ceiling allowed the sunlight through unhindered, striking a heap of glittering treasure. Ropes of pearls, jade ornaments, and gems the size of my fist were piled onto the ground, as carelessly as though they were twigs, leaves, and stones.

“What is this?” I asked, finding my voice.