“Our little Song *sniff* found a Hidden Master!” Chohee enveloped her son in a hug. “Can you believe it, San?”

  Cyrus was aghast. [“That easy? C’mon, where’s the stranger danger!?’]

  “Was it at least a beautiful fairy?” Tae asked.

  [“Wrong question, Tae!”] Cyrus shrieked.

  Song shook his head. “No, he’s an elderly Void body cultivator with a big nose,” then he grinned. “But he does have long legs.”

  “Ahhhh!” Tae clasped his hands behind his head and leaned back from the breakfast table. He blew his white string of hair out of his eyes with a *whoof*. “That’s boring.”

  “I can’t believe you’re already at adept refinement!” Wook laughed, his brown eyes twinkling with mirth. “You’re going to pass me at this rate; I’ll need to work harder!”

  “Boring or not, congratulations, Song.” Juwon said, primly. He curled his goatee around a finger introspectively. “To think that one of our Lee family would be taken as a disciple by a core level cultivator!” He raised a mug of mare’s milk high. “A toast to our Song!”

  Everyone raised their mugs as well, and intoned, “To Song!”

  Song blushed, and fidgeted beneath the table with his toes. He really wished that he could say more… but it just wasn’t safe. The secret of Master Crane would need to remain a secret. And as for Cyrus… they’d discussed it, and decided that it was just far too dangerous for anyone to know about him.

  “By the way, Juwon,” Tae said when everyone was done drinking. “I want it recorded for posterity that I was right. He was up to something.”

  Juwon sighed. “Fine. You were right. Does that make you happy?”

  Tae held his hand up to his ear. “What was that? Sorry, didn’t hear you –”

  “Enough,” Lee San said firmly, and the two brothers’ mouths snapped shut. “I’m very pleased for you, Song. But this is going to need to be brought before the family council.”

  Song felt his guts clench, his overwhelming cheer suddenly doused with cold water.

  “Leave your jackal somewhere safe,” San instructed. “Then report to the family yurtwagon. The Elders will want to hear more.”

  —

  The council of the Lee Family of Changpo was always a sight to behold. As one of the largest clans in the village, the Lee family had a significant number of branches, hangers on, and married relations.

  What they didn’t have were a lot of Elders. As one of the families responsible for guarding the village, and supplying soldiers to the imperial conscription, the Lee family generally lacked the powerful elderly cultivators that were the backbone of imperial noble clans.

  Not that this made them weak! The Lee family’s efforts and righteousness had made them no few friends, and most of their enemies were dead. But it did mean that when the family council was called, the eldest were just old Grannie Bora and Great Uncle Lee Gunwoo. Though short, wrinkled, and past their prime, both were at the peak of expert refinement, and were even capable of fighting a foundation cultivator if they worked together. The pair of them flanked Lee San’s throne like a pair of vultures, while Kkongi sat on his perch above and stared down at Song with a beady, suspicious eye.

  Song shivered, wondering if the Demonic Beast could smell Master Crane on him. Maybe he should take Cyrus’s advice and bathe more often.

  He was currently standing before the throne of the Patriarch, quite literally at the center of attention. In a wide circle around him were eight important figures of the Lee family, each seated at a small wooden tea-table, with their retainers arrayed behind them.

  The first – and closest to the door-flap – was his brother, Lee Juwon. His short goatee and topknot brushed into a fine shine. He held a spot on this council by virtue of being the eldest son of the Patriarch, though the curl of his expert refinement horns helped too. Juwon’s faction was mostly made of the scribes and accountants of the Lee family – those who believed good governance and the success of the Family would depend on their integration with the imperial bureaucracy.

  Sitting opposite Juwon was Seojoon, who’d earned his place by the accolades of the family warriors. They sat behind him in various stern poses, their frowns as deadly a weapon as the swords and spears they’d left outside. Very few of them were cultivators, and only novice refinement at that, but they were all at the very least second-rate warriors. Some even wore the iron armor of imperial soldiers.

  Moving up from the two warring heirs, were the various branch family heads. First were the twin heads responsible for caring for the horses – Hana and Duri. They were identical in every aspect from their unshaven chins to, to their long adept refinement horns and bright smiles. The only way to really tell the men apart were their hats, with Hana preferring the wide black brim of an imperial gat, while Duri preferred a furred tortsoog. The pair also had the dark leathery skin of laborers, with the black cracked hands to match.

  The highest level branch family cultivator in the room was Auntie Eunji, who had the same faintly-curled horns as Juwon. They framed her long shining black hair, and gave her a faintly sinister air. She represented the Lee family on the Chanpgo village council and was a powerful martial artist in her own right. She also often served as a buffer between the clan and the imperial censors. If Lee San’s main branch was the sword of the Lee family, she served as the shield. She was mostly surrounded by the older warriors of the family, or those who had no interest in dealing with the fractious heirs.

  Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

  Her brother, Subin, was still just a novice in the Way of the Ram, but was an expert at finances and trade. As amiable as he was overweight, he worked tirelessly with Song’s own mother to ensure that every yuanbao of gold or silver went to those who most deserved it. His own entourage was much diminished these days as most had transferred over to Juwon’s camp.

  The last of the branch family members was the stoic and scholarly Minsu. Minsu had left the family for a time to study under the Yu’s and returned married to the youngest daughter of the Yu family Patriarch. He now served as the family physician and while his skills were inestimable, few trusted him. His followers only amounted to three of Song’s older cousins, who sought to become trained in the healing arts. He was also the only one on the council with no horns or any other form of Sign. His long lustrous black hair and fair features reminded Song of an older, more mature version of Tae.

  Finally, there was Uncle Seok, the Patriarch’s elder brother.

  Who was currently glaring at Song while pontificating loudly. Seok raised a fist to the ceiling, shouting, “Are we truly to trust the word of a child? He simply needs to say ‘core level cultivator’ and you all trip over yourselves like foals drunk on airag! How do we know this ‘Master Crane’ isn’t a Demonic Cultivator? Don’t they often take the names of the animals that match their horrific Sign? I’ve certainly not heard of any Unorthodox masters by that Dao name!”

  “I have,” Subin said, shrugging as Seok turned an angry glare on him. “Four, actually, that’re active. The Crane style was popularized by Master Thousand Feathers Crane of the Wudang Sect almost eight hundred years ago by the imperial calendar. Since then there’ve been hundreds of ‘Master Cranes’, though I admit that I’ve never heard of a ‘Stellar Crane Style’.”

  Song held down a grin. He was fairly certain that his Master would have words about self-styled human cultivators using the name of ‘Crane’.

  “Oh, shut that empty hole you call a mouth, Seok,” Eunji grumbled, waving her hand dismissively. It was hard to believe that the beautiful, perfumed, middle-aged fairy in front of them was the most foul-mouthed martial artist in the family. The heavy laminar armor she usually wore rattled from the gesture. “You felt his qi. No Demonic Cultivator is going to give a treasure to a child, and we’re not exactly important enough to infiltrate. I’m inclined to believe the boy’s story. After the last war with the East, there’re more than enough bastard wandering cultivators looking to leave a legacy.”

  “I would remind the Family,” Juwon said, his spine straight. His stern gaze swept the room. “That Lee Song has completed the ritual of the Great One, and is now a man – not a boy. He faced the Dark Dreamer’s mindscape alone, and fought a grasswolf. Please leave him some face in this regard.”

  Eunji looked like she wanted to repeat Hunter An’s speech on boys becoming men, but rounded her shoulders and gave a short almost-respectful bow to Song instead. “Of course, I meant no harm, Haksae~kki.”

  She drawled the last, and there was a burst of laughter from the youths behind Seojoon, who was unable to hold back a slight smile himself, his cleft chin wrinkling.

  Song saw red, and spoke unbidden for the first time at this gathering, “What’s wrong with the Dao name my Master gave me? Are you mocking him? If so, I’ll demand satisfaction!”

  The laughing grew louder, while the youths behind Juwon began to shout angrily in Song’s defense.

  Juwon glowered across the circle at Seojoon. “Little Crane Chick is clearly a name full of meaning. Are we Lees proud stallions of the plains, or laughing jackals?”

  This time it was Seojoon’s lackeys who shouted angry imprecations, some reaching for weapons that weren’t there. Seojoon himself stared at Song, then held up a fist. There was sudden silence as he spoke, “My greater concern is where that leaves Song. Is he leaving us, as Aunt Seolhee did? And if not, what’re we to do with one who has divided loyalties, and doesn’t use the same martial arts as the rest of the family?”

  Uncle Seok smiled savagely, using his son’s smooth words to drive the wedge further. “That’s right! We have no need for a cultivator of the Dark Dreamer. Is he to stay relegated to the hunters? What a loss of face for our Lee family! Perhaps it would be best to have him fill a spot in the imperial conscription. It’s a long and vaunted tradition of our Lee family to provide more for the censors than any other clan in the village. And it would stop wagging tongues that claim we never send anyone from the main family!”

  Eunji and Subin looked thoughtful, while the twins mostly looked bored. The two Elders flanking Song’s father, as well as the Patriarch himself, kept features that could’ve been sculpted from ice jade.

  Song barely managed to keep the rage from reaching his own face. He knew what the two of them were doing. Having a brother with a core level Master was a powerful weight on Juwon’s side. If they could drive Song out of the family, it would help Seojoon hold power. So they made excuses, couched in reasonable and righteous words.

  He saw now what Juwon had meant by saying that Seojoon was selfish.

  [“I mean…”] Cyrus said. [“That sounds pretty cool, right? Join the army, see the world? And they’d probably be able to teach you a lot.”]

  Song kept himself to a brief curt nod. As usual, Seojoon didn’t tell any lies. It would be safest for the family to send him for Imperial conscription. The next one would be in a few years, plenty of time for him to reach expert refinement. The army would have good use for his skills in scouting and hunting as well.

  But he didn’t want to leave the Family. He loved the Nakjo plains, and the scent of Changpo flowers. He lived for playing his topshur, lying against Bongbong’s side while the wind whistled through his hair.

  “Song will stay. We can’t afford to offend a core level cultivator by sending off his disciple.” San’s voice cut through the noise like a blade, and everyone turned to face him. “Song, have your Master visit the Family when he returns, or at least ask that he allow me a meeting. I must pay my respect as your father, and ensure he is who he claims”

  “Yes Patriarch.” Song nodded, while Uncle Seok glowered.

  San continued,“For now, Song will remain training with Hunter An. She says he shows promise, and it would be foolish to waste her goodwill.”

  Everyone assembled clasped their hands before their chests and bowed, intoning, “We hear you, Patriarch!”

  “You’re all dismissed. Except Song, you wait.”

  The tent emptied, leaving just the Patriarch, Kkongi, and a nervously shifting Song.

  San eventually said. “You accomplished a great feat these last three nights.” He handed Song a boat-shaped silver tael. “But, you’ve been cooped up training for far too long. Go show your face in the village. You can take your jackal to your teacher after.”

  Song bowed at the waist, “Thank you, father.”

  [“Oooooh! Is there a pub? Or a club? ”] Cyrus asked, excited. [“What do you do for fun around here?”]

  Song swept out the flap, smiling widely. “I’m going to invite my friends out for tea!”

  Cyrus groaned. [“Agghhh, even your fun is boring!”]