113 Monkeys Gather Close, the Old Bear Steals Honey

Having fully mastered the three internal strengthening hard skills, Chen Jue lay down to practice circulating his qi and blood through the small and large microcosmic orbits, calming the restless fire ignited by his rigorous training.

When practicing these internal hard skills extensively, Chen Jue felt as if a breath of air was trapped in his chest, itching to be vented immediately.

It was like Li Yuanba, who, frustrated by heaven’s lack of control and earth’s absence of restraint, felt uneasy if he didn’t swing his eight-hundred-pound hammer a few times a day.

This was due to an abundance of internal essence and energy, amplified by Chen Jue’s perfected virgin-boy cultivation skill, “The Rising Qi of Morning Sun.”

Traditional Chinese medicine describes a condition known as exuberant yang fire deficiency, typically caused by staying up late or inflammation, which requires nourishing yin to restore harmony. Chen Jue’s case, however, was different.

His hard internal training had made his internal organs and bone marrow excessively robust, leaving his energy pent up without an outlet.

The internal martial arts classics mention such a phenomenon: “Refining the viscera and marrow leads to excessive yang fire in the liver and overabundance of stomach qi; one must grind river stones with the teeth, swallow them to the intestines to digest and dissipate the qi, then vomit them out once the stomach qi is exhausted.”

In nature, certain animals exhibit similar habits: crocodiles and extinct dinosaurs swallowed stones to sharpen their teeth and strengthen their stomachs, channeling restless energy while enhancing digestion.

Much like cats and dogs instinctively seek out medicinal herbs and grasses in the wild to clear hairballs from their digestive tracts, this is an inherent animal instinct.

Fortunately, Chen Jue supplemented his practice with Taoist internal alchemy. After a few cycles of qi and blood circulation, he entered a meditative state akin to ancient immortals, practicing fetal breathing, refining essence into qi, qi into spirit, transforming excess energy into nourishment for his cultivation. This smoothly calmed the turbulent qi and blood within him.

By past midnight, Chen Jue slowly concluded his practice, wiped down with warm water, and lay down to rest.

The next morning, he spent half an hour in the courtyard practicing Tai Chi stances to cultivate body and mind while improving his proficiency.

He then hurried to the small town for breakfast and bought more compressed biscuits and functional drinks of various flavors, planning to continue his mountain expedition and cultivation.

He also intended to search for wild medicinal herbs like Panax notoginseng and lingzhi mushrooms to gather.

The rock cabbage he had previously found on the cliff, which had bloomed beautifully, was given to Wang Biao to cultivate at home.

…

On the way into the mountains, Chen Jue also studied a new lightness skill downloaded on his phone: the Night Walking Technique.

This technique, also from the Wudang Thirty-Six Skills, enhances night vision and agility, ideally practiced in pitch-black conditions.

However, blessed by Lüzu’s enlightenment and navigating the complex, winding terrain of the dense forest, Chen Jue’s progress was steady despite the less-than-ideal nighttime setting.

With more than a week left before the martial contest, Chen Jue had ample time and patience.

After trekking through mountains and forests, he reached the riverbank where he had previously encountered a tiger. To his surprise, the campfire site he had hastily covered was now tidied up, as if some unseen guardian of nature had restored the traces left by humans.

“Could it be her?” The image of the girl carrying a backpack flashed through his mind.

He then let out a long, roaring shout mimicking a tiger’s call, “Tiger’s Roar in the Mountain Forest,” but after waiting a long time without seeing the persistent follower, he hoisted his pack and ventured deeper into the more remote arboreal forest.

By nightfall, Chen Jue arrived at a valley fragrant with birdsong and flowers, where occasional groups of mountain monkeys played noisily.

Using his keen eyesight, he observed the monkey troop and recognized them as the rare, nationally protected black-capped leaf monkeys unique to the Gongshan Dulong River region. Their black faces with yellow cheeks and grayish-yellow fur were distinct, with each barely half a meter tall, wearing what looked like little hats atop their heads—true rebels among monkeys.

…

Despite their odd appearance, these monkeys were highly protected and extremely rare.

Had Chen Jue not traveled over a hundred kilometers from Wazhai into such a secluded wilderness, he would hardly have encountered such a rare troop.

Watching the black-capped leaf monkeys frolic, he studied their climbing, jumping, and leaping postures. Too far away to grasp the essence of their movements, he settled on a smooth boulder at the valley entrance to rest.

After a day trekking through the nature reserve and practicing the eye-straining Night Walking Technique, Chen Jue felt mentally fatigued.

With no broad river or water source nearby, he dared not light a fire, fearing forest fires that would disrupt the mountain spirits dwelling here.

…

While peeling a compressed biscuit and nibbling on it, Chen Jue heard chirping sounds from above.

Looking up, he saw the entire troop of black-capped leaf monkeys had been drawn to him, perching or dangling on the tall trees overhead, all closely watching his meal with the intensity of front-row fans at a forum.

Chen Jue never imagined that after practicing Taoist internal alchemy and restoring his body to its innate state, not only would humans feel an inexplicable warmth and closeness toward him, but even these wild animals seemed instinctively drawn to this strange two-legged creature.

“Chirp chirp!”

“Woo-ji!”

One particularly bold monkey descended from the tree, squatting beside Chen Jue and staring intently at the compressed biscuit in his hand.

“Want to try some?” Chen Jue broke off a tiny piece and offered it. The biscuits were rich in nutrients, suitable for humans, and surely better than the zoo feed the monkeys usually got—he wasn’t worried about giving wild animals a treat.

The little monkey hesitated before snatching the crumb from Chen Jue’s palm and popping it into its mouth.

Not eating for free, the monkey surprisingly produced a small, round wild fruit resembling a winter jujube and tossed it to Chen Jue.

Seeing the monkey happily munching, Chen Jue rinsed the fruit with a functional drink, wiped it clean, and bit into it with a crisp crunch, savoring the sweet and sour taste.

Compared to the brazen monkeys of Mount Emei, these oddly dressed little fellows were remarkably polite.

…

After playing with the monkeys for a while, Chen Jue finished his dinner and wandered into the valley.

He noticed the flowers blooming brilliantly, even in the last rays of sunset, competing in beauty. The air was filled with the monkeys’ playful cries and the buzzing of insects like bees.

Scanning the valley, he spotted a large wild beehive nestled on a tall tree.

A shiver ran through him.

Getting stung by these creatures was no joke!

Every year, news reported people stung by wild bees during tomb-sweeping season needing emergency hospital care.

Near Chen Jue’s village was a rapeseed flower plantation, which bloomed golden and vast every March and April, attracting countless bees. As a child, Chen Jue often got stung while playing among the flowers.

Those stings injected venom that caused inflammation and fever, requiring intravenous treatment at the local clinic.

And that was just from domesticated bees’ stingers!

Wild bees were several times more venomous.

An ordinary adult could suffer acute kidney failure or even death from a dozen or so wild bee stings.

Thankfully, Chen Jue’s recent hard training had strengthened his skin’s defenses. His mastery of hidden force throughout his body, though not yet at the pinnacle “no feather may land, no fly may rest” level, combined with his sharp reflexes and robust physique, assured him he could dodge wild bees with ease.

After surveying the beehive, Chen Jue leisurely began retreating toward the valley entrance.

With such a wild beehive as a neighbor, he dared not spend the night here for fear of being stung.

Just as he packed up, preparing to find a flatter, wider spot to camp, heavy, labored breathing echoed from within the valley.

The black-capped leaf monkeys, once leaping and playing in the treetops, became agitated, their shrieks piercing the air.

Following the sound and standing on tiptoe, Chen Jue spotted a large, glossy black bear climbing the tall tree housing the wild beehive.

Nearly two meters tall, this adult female black bear bore a white crescent-shaped patch on her chest. Known as the moon bear or Asiatic black bear, she was a second-class nationally protected wild animal.

Chen Jue had seen humorous videos online of black bears stealing honey only to be stung into swollen-faced misery—but never expected to witness such a scene in the depths of Gongshan.

“Brother, you’re a bit reckless!”

“This is a wild beehive, not a domestic hive!”

Crouched in the underbrush, Chen Jue watched as the bear skillfully climbed the tree, then used her paw to tear down large, oddly shaped layers of the beehive, which fell heavily into the grass below.

She swatted away the bees with one paw, then rapidly descended the tree, clutching a massive portion of the hive in her jaws, and sprinted fiercely out of the valley.

Her movements were fluid and practiced—a seasoned honey thief. Chen Jue found the spectacle thrilling.

However, disturbing a beehive was no simple matter. After being stung repeatedly and crying out in pain, the bear dashed through wildflowers and grass, carving a straight path.

Passing Chen Jue’s hidden grass pile, the bear, hindered by poor eyesight and failing light, surprisingly did not notice him—truly living up to her nickname “blind bear.”

The half-hive she carried was already cracked from the fall, and vigorous shaking caused most of the honeycomb to tear off and drop to the ground less than five meters from Chen Jue.

“Brother! You dropped your honor… no, your honey!”

Seventh update! Let’s charge ahead! I actually had six updates ready yesterday, and this chapter is freshly written today, hot off the press. The story is getting tougher to write, and the word count is soaring. No more filler data like before (facepalm).