Mr Kim with his near-bullseye shot.

“Chinese used the spear, Japanese used the sword,” says Mr. Kim. “We Koreans used the bow. Have for 5000 years.”

A badge on his tunic reads “World Kuk Gung Federation” above a sewn picture of a horseman shooting arrows from a galloping horse.

We are looking out over a steep field bisected by a stream. This is Mr. Kim’s traditional Korean Archery field.

“‘Kuk Gung’ is ‘Horn Bow,’” he says.

On the creek’s opposite upslope, four square targets face us, each one white, black, and red. “That is a long way, Mr. Kim,” I say.

“Not a problem for Korean Kuk Gung,” Mr. Kim says. He says a Korean bow can propel an arrow 475 feet, 145 meters. “At Olympics they only allow distance of 30-90 meters,” he says. “We always win archery at Olympics.”

Mr. Kim draws his bow out of a blue and white cloth sleeve. Wow. I am surprised how small it is.

“Why is it called a ‘horn bow’?” I ask.

“Because it is made of bamboo, mulberry wood, maple tree skin, and water buffalo horn. It is a composite of all these, glued by fishes’ swimming bladder.”

Mr. Kim (right) watches a pupil’s draw.

Mr. Kim knows these things because he has practiced Korean archery for most of the 43 years he has been traveling back and forth from South Korea, where he grows and sells succulents and cacti for the American, European, and other markets. “We ship 4 to 5 million plants every year,” he says. “I control 70 percent of the market.”

But love of Korean archery is clearly what drives him now. He purchased this land up in the rolling hills of Valley Center to turn it into a Korean traditional archery center, the only one in the U.S. He’s developing the part of the field by the creek into horse trails where students can learn to gallop on horseback while shooting arrows.

Now he bends the bow between his legs so he can stretch its string. It’s curled like Cupid bows you see on Valentine’s Day cards.

But looks are deceptive. “This is the most powerful bow,” Mr. Kim says. “You see those?” He’s pointing to the four distant targets. No way other bows, he says — English, Japanese, Chinese — can reach those targets. (To be fair, many military historians say the English longbow had an effective range of over 300 yards.)

He takes the sleeve and wraps it around his waist. “Now, sleeve becomes quiver,” he says He slips five wooden arrows between it and his tunic.

He is a modest, quietly powerful man who clearly believes in the precepts he painted on the posts designating the shooting area:

“Be seen as a model of love and virtue.”

“Have a straight mind and a straight body.”

“Protect integrity through discreet behavior.”

“Be courteous.”

He hands me a bow. “First lesson,” he says. “We do each ten times.”

My exercise is to draw the bow to shooting position, hold, and then undraw. He shows me how to hold it above my head, level it, push the bow hand forward, while hauling the string hand back, harmoniously. “Good for breathing,” he says.

Also exhausting for a first-timer. He watches every movement. Only then does he go to shoot his ten arrows — and you can hear the distant “bap!” as most hit the targets. He hangs up his bow and heads off down the hill. “Where are we going?” I ask. “To pick up the arrows,” Mr. Kim says. “Part of discipline.”