Her breath came rough and heavy. Ji-eun lay in thick snow, letting the cold around her seep into burning muscles. Overcast sky hung high above. With a groan she rolled and propped up on her elbows. Blood fell across her face and pooled beneath her. She clutched at her forehead and her fingers came away slick. Blood spilled from one horns’ base as it welled from a jagged wound.

  Ji-eun craned her neck around to meet a ruined clearing. Broken branches lay strewn about. Upturned earth soiled the pristine snowcover. And three twisted bodies lay scattered across the clearing. Scions of the Wu Clan, their hunting robes stained deep crimson. They lay still, ashen faces locked in pain and horror.

  She rose slowly, knees buckling. Blood stained the snowy clearing like paint splatter. It ran from the bodies of the Wu scions in steaming streams. It speckled the snow in tiny constellations. It clung to far flung trunks and branches. It clung to Ji-eun too.

  She had to move. Get far away, before more blood-hungry beasts came. She got lucky once. It wouldn’t happen again. Cradling an arm and avoiding a leg, Ji-eun stumbled through the trees. Red snow stretched beneath her. She limped as far and fast as she could. And then came a whistling on the wind.

  All at once, the world came to a standstill. Branches stiffened against the wind. Snowflakes hung suspended in the air. Ji-eun’s blood continued its trickle down her face. The whistling grew louder. Ji-eun’s breath grew ragged.

  Then the forest shook. Frantically, she looked through the trees. A chill spread across Ji-eun’s back. She had only made it a few steps from the edge of the clearing, vivid red footsteps left in her wake. Between branches heavy with snow stood a man draped in pristine silver robes. They shone against the snow and were far too thin for the cold, harsh climate of the north. He was tall and muscular, wider than the oldest trunks of the forest. Grey hair blew with the wind in a taoist topknot. Two silver eyes bore deep into Jie-un.

  A single word came to mind: Cultivator. Immortals seeking godhood. The greatest of heroes, and the vilest of villains. Ji-eun wanted to run, to scream, but her wounds finally caught up to her. The old monster simply watched as she succumbed and collapsed into the snow.

  —

  Ji-eun stood facing against a bamboo pole in a basic martial stance, her sword trained on it’s mass. Foot forward, wrist loose, shoulders back. With a step, she delivered three strikes. The pole shook and rattled against its base. Hushed words came from behind. Ji-eun paid them no mind. Whatever they were saying, it was not to her benefit.

  She reset her stance. Foot forward, wrist loose, shoulders back. A step forward. Two strikes this time. Was that laughter, or the rattle of the pole again?

  She reset. Foot, wrist, shoulders. Step, strike. With a short twirl, she adjusted her grip. Her fingers ached. Her ears burned. She struck the pole again.

  At some point, finally, the Disciples began clearing out of the training hall. Ji-eun did not miss their deliberate squeaky steps against the polished wood floor. Just another distraction. The door rattled close. She let out a deep breath.

  Ji-eun looked around the hall. Spacious, with a vaulted ceiling. Qi lights floated above mimicking natural light. Thick stone defined the training floor, surrounded by a wooden veranda for viewing. The space was empty, except for her.

  With a sigh, Ji-eun turned back to the bamboo pole. The training swords provided were made of a strong wood, but had a dull edge. Despite this, Disciples were expected to cut through thick shoots of wrought bamboo. An entry level test in the Sworn Sword Sect.

  Ji-eun breathed deeply. Foot back, wrist tight, shoulders low. With a grunt of effort, she leaped forward and swung in a wide arc with both arms. Her sword collided with the bamboo pole and resounded like a gong. Splinters of wood flew in every direction. And the top half of the shoot toppled, hanging on by the barest of threads. Ji-eun groaned. Her fingers had ached before. Now, her whole hand was in agony. She wiped a drop of blood from her cheek; a splinter had cut her.

  It wasn’t the precise, ‘elegant’ swordplay that the Sworn Sword Sect vowed to teach. But it was a good way to vent. Ji-eun hung the shattered sword along the rack. She wiped the sweat from her arms and brow with a towel and wrapped the Sect’s robes over her training wear. They were simplistic, light grey in colour and unembroidered. It was earlier than Ji-eun would have liked to stop, but it would have to do for the day.

  Ji-eun slid open the paper door and was greeted by a chilly gust of air. It was winter again. Snow fell gently painting the Sect grounds white and settling into the cracks between stone pavers. Servants, dressed in dark grey robes, stood along the path sweeping snow. Each bowed as Ji-eun passed them by. Hesitantly, she returned the gesture; they hurriedly bowed deeper in turn.

  It was always quiet in the Sworn Sword Sect. Even the sound of her own footsteps were jarring against the stillness. She did her best to ignore the crunch of her boots against stone when a Disciple passed by. Their feet were silent against the pavers. She tried to ignore that too.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Ji-eun turned to face the overcast sky. A whole year had passed since Ji-eun first joined the Sect as an Outer Disciple. One whole year of - literally - bone breaking training. One whole year of enduring in a place thousands of li from what she could call home. What had that year earned her? Another Disciple passed by. An Outer Disciple like her, judging by the shade of their robes. They were silent as they passed by, not even leaving footprints. She didn’t say anything to Ji-eun. They never had to. A year’s worth of training and nothing to show.

  Still not a cultivator. Just as mortal as ever.

  Ji-eun sighed to herself. Had she woken up on the wrong side of Beishan? She’d been in a bad mood all morning. No, all day! Even obscured by cloud, she could tell the sun was starting to set.

  A chill ran across Ji-euns back. Turning, she saw a man in light grey, almost silver, robes. His face was wrinkled, and a scar ran down to his cheek. The old man held his arms tucked neatly within his robes across his chest.

  “Disciple,” the man called coarsely.

  “Master Yan,” she turned to face the man and bowed.

  Ji-eun waited for the old Master and fell in beside him.

  “May this old man continue his walk with you?”

  “Of course, Master Yan.”

  They walked in silence. Master Yan made no sound as he stepped. Even his clothes refused to rustle. After a short while, the old Master broke the silence. He turned to face her.

  “It was fortunate I ran into you here. I was hoping you could replace my usual assistant in the workshop tomorrow,” he began, “who unfortunately has been called away from the Sect. For what reason I was not told. Regardless, I need an extra pair of hands. I believe you are well suited for the role.”

  Ji-eun was silent for a moment. Gathering herself, she controlled her expression and maintained a neutral look.

  “Are you sure, Master Yan? I’m sure you’ve heard, but I don’t… I’m not as well-versed as other Disciples. You might’ve even seen it yourself.”

  “Disciple Ji-eun, I would not be approaching you with this offer if I didn’t personally think it was for the best.”

  She turned from him and focused on the path forward. She wasn’t sure why she of all people had been approached, but it would be rude to turn down the request.

  “Of course, Master Yan,” Ji-eun said with a bow.

  “Good. I will see you in the morning, Disciple. Meet me at the southern quarter gates just before your morning training would typically start.” With a bow, Master Yan departed.

  Light grew dim as the sun continued to fall. The warm glow of candles shone through pavilion windows; the Elders weren’t tolerant of electric lighting. Ji-eun continued her march toward her own pavilion, one she shared with two others, Sister Cai and Sister Mu. Through a clearing, she could make out the two storey structure now. But oddly, the entrance was crowded. Drawing closer, Ji-eun made out five individuals all wearing the same robes as her. Outer Disciples, visiting another’s pavilion so late?

  Ji-eun maintained her stride, but faltered as all five turned to her. Light from inside washed over their backs and cast deep shadows across their faces.

  “Halt,” called the tallest of the bunch. So she did, a few feet from the group. “Who are you to approach another’s pavilion so casually?”

  “This is my pavilion,” Ji-eun began with a belated sigh. “I live here with Sister Cai and Sister Yu. Who are you… Brother, and why— what brings you here?”

  Heads turned to one another as a silent conversation took place.

  “Watch your tone when speaking to your betters” another one spat.

  “We have no need to identify ourselves to you, Outer Disciple,” the tallest continued. “Disciple Cai has business with us that will not be interrupted. We were told to wait here for her to return.”

  There was a pause as she looked between them. A knot formed in her gut.

  “So?” She asked.

  “So scurry along, little rat.”

  Her face contorted.

  “I’m sure you head me earlier. This is my pavilion too. Stand aside,” Ji-eun said. “Please.”

  “And if we refuse?”

  Ji-eun said nothing at that. What could she say? Curt laughter escaped the group.

  “Come on,” goaded another woman, “what’s the Demon Slaying Mortal gonna do?”

  Ji-eun took a deep breath and bowed her head.

  “Whatever business you have with Sister—”

  “Disciple Cai.”

  “—Disciple Cai cannot possibly be interrupted by me. Please let me inside, Elder Brothers and Sisters,” she said with as flat a voice she could muster.

  There was silence for a short while. Ji-eun chewed the inside of her lip. This wasn’t the first time other Disciples had made their discontent so obvious. Cooperate and grovel, no matter how tasteless, and they’d move along. People like them always did.

  More looks were exchanged between the group.

  “Don’t make me repeat myself again, little rat,” said the tallest. “Scurry along. Neither Disciple Cai, nor I, will tolerate you.”

  Ji-euns head snapped up. She could hear the grin on his face.

  “Wait—”

  Something struck her cheek. A hand clenched around the hem of her robe, digging into her collarbone. She was hoisted into the air. Snow drifted through the air, kicked up by the speed of it all. Ji-eun tried to meet the eyes of her attacker, but saw nothing through the shadow.

  “You’re lucky we’ve tolerated you thus far. Don’t push your luck.” With a wave she was thrown to the ground. The man - or woman? It was hard to tell with this one - wiped a hand along their robe like it was covered in filth. “I’m sure there are plenty of places something like you can crawl into on this mountain. Disappear into them for tonight and bother your betters no longer.”

  Ji-eun stood meekly. Head spinning, trying not to stumble. She turned and she left.

  Night came quickly. Snow continued to fall. Ji-eun considered asking to stay in another pavilion, but it would be pointless. The training halls would either be closed or booked for the night, and the warehouses were always under tight lock and key. She stopped by the next wall she passed and settled her back against the stone foundation. An awning overhead kept the snow thin here. Still, the chill crept through her robes. They were meant for hardy cultivators, not meek mortals. The fabric did little against weather. Ji-eun ran a hand through the snow and rubbed it against her cheek, the bite of it temporarily easing her stinging bruise. She curled up tight. It would be the first time in a while that she’d spend the night sleeping in snow. It was a bitter thought.

  Crunch. Someone was approaching, and they wanted her to know it. Ji-eun tensed. What now? Slowly, her head raised from the crook of her arm. A short woman stood over her carrying a warmly glowing lantern. She wore a dark grey robe, entirely bland. Ji-eun met the woman’s impassive stare. The woman’s face broke into a strange mix of confusion, annoyance, and utter amusement.

  “What in the hells are you doing sitting here in the snow? You’ll freeze to death in those robes!”

  Ji-eun gave an unimpressed look and dropped her head.

  “You’ll be struck for talking to a Disciple like that, you know.”

  “They cause trouble for servants like us for any reason they can find most days. What can us mortals do about it anyways?”

  Silence fell onto the pair as Ji-eun continued to stare. A servant, a mortal like her. Ji-eun was a full member of the Sect; most Disciples chose to leave her alone, or at least keep their contempt thinly veiled. Most did, anyway. She had never considered that the Servants, many mortals just like her, wouldn’t be so lucky.

  A sharp breeze blew through. Snow danced in the air between them.

  “Come on. You really will freeze out here,” the woman offered her free hand.

  Harsher winters up north had taught its lesson. She took the hand and stood.

  “I’m Hu Lin. Sorry, I’d ask who you were, but you’re kinda famous in the Sect, Disciple Ji-eun,” the woman, Hu Lin, said with a short bow.

  “Just Ji-eun. I’m a Disciple in name only, so you can skip the courtesy too.”

  Hu Lin grinned.

  “Thanks! I’ll do just that. I like your horns, by the way!”