114 The Tiger's Roar Decimates the Swarm; A Hidden Refuge Within the Bear's Den

Chen Jue held back his playful remark, fearing that a sudden sound might startle this silly, adorable black bear and cause it to drop the last bit of honeycomb remaining in its mouth.

The bear had gone through great trouble to tear down that massive hive, only to lose the lion's share to Chen Jue, leaving it with just a small portion. It was like picking up sesame seeds only to lose the watermelon—everything had fallen into Chen Jue's lap.

Watching the black bear disappear into the forest, chased by a swarm of wild bees, Chen Jue climbed out of the grass and strolled over to the large honeycomb surrounded by the buzzing insects.

The wild bees, having had their nest raided, were now attacking any living creature in the vicinity indiscriminately. The capped leaf monkeys that had been watching the spectacle from nearby trees had long since leaped away to hide. As Chen Jue, a human, appeared and stepped closer to the hive on the ground, the swarm buzzed and dove toward him.

Chen Jue did not dodge. Instead, he took a deep breath, his chest expanding and his throat vibrating. He unleashed the lethal sound-based technique from his Tiger-Roar Golden Bell Shield: "Tiger Roar in the Mountains!"

A white shockwave, the size of a wagon wheel, erupted from his mouth. With a sound like an exploding grenade, the air blasted outward in a fan-shaped wave. Everything in its path within several meters was struck down; the wild bees were instantly killed and fell into the grass. The surrounding weeds and wildflowers were bent and battered, as if by a gale-force wind. Even the larvae and eggs within the large honeycomb were wiped out in an instant.

Satisfied with the raw power of his technique, Chen Jue nodded, walked over, and picked up the hive to shake it. After clearing away the dead bees and larvae, he broke off a piece of the wax-filled comb and licked it. It was indeed far sweeter and more fragrant than the honey produced by domesticated bees. It was no wonder the bear had risked life and limb, enduring countless stings, just to get a taste. In this primitive forest, wild honey was likely the only source of such sweetness. Since these wild bees were not a protected species, Chen Jue felt no guilt in exterminating them.

He took out a knife and an empty sports drink bottle from his backpack, scraping the crystalline wild honey into the bottle to prevent it from dripping. He didn't discard the wax honeycomb either; the waxen combs had medicinal properties. He used the plastic bags he had brought for collecting rare herbs to wrap the honeycomb securely.

Once he finished, he left the valley and began to follow the black bear's trail at a leisurely pace. Thanks to his practice of the Wudang Night-Walking Skill, his night vision had improved significantly, allowing him to navigate the forest without fear of the dark. After crossing mountains and ridges for about seven or eight miles, he finally discovered the bear beneath the gnarled roots of a massive tree in a ravine.

The bear had curled up inside a hollowed-out space beneath the roots that provided shelter from the wind and rain, camouflaged by a pile of weeds. Had Chen Jue not possessed such keen vision—spotting the indentation marks left by the bear—he never would have found it.

"Huff, huff!" The bear, nursing its wounds in the den, caught the scent of a stranger and poked its head out, sniffing the air. A black bear's vision is naturally poor, and combined with the darkness of night, it relied primarily on its sense of smell and hearing to judge its surroundings. Its hearing was so sharp it could detect human footsteps from three hundred meters away. However, due to the bonuses from his light-foot skills—"Light as a Swallow" and "Dancing Through Flowers"—Chen Jue’s movements were so silent that he had reached the bear's doorstep before being detected.

As he approached the entrance, Chen Jue heard not only the breathing and heartbeat of the adult bear but also those of two cubs.

"So, it’s a mother bear," he thought. "No wonder it was so bold, risking everything to gather honey." His heart warmed at the sight of such maternal protection. They say motherly love is the gentlest emotion in the world, and it is just as profound even in wild beasts. Having lost his own mother at a young age, Chen Jue had always cherished her memory and longed for that affection. Like many, he had been too young and playful to realize her greatness until it was too late.

"Roar!" The mother bear, sensing his presence, lunged partially out of the den and roared, trying to scare him off. Chen Jue calmly set down his backpack, took out the wrapped honeycomb, and tossed it toward her. The mother bear sniffed the familiar, sweet scent, looked at Chen Jue with confusion, and upon hearing the whimper of her cubs, grabbed the honeycomb and retreated into the den.

Chen Jue performed a vertical leap, utilizing his Wall-Scaling technique to spring six or seven meters up the trunk of the massive tree. With ten fingers hooked like iron claws into the bark, he nimbly climbed to a sturdy branch over ten meters high, finding a hollow where he could sit and rest. He decided to spend the night there as a neighbor to the bear family, keeping watch over them as payment for the half-bottle of wild honey he had acquired.

The mother bear, still uneasy, fed the honeycomb to her cubs and poked her head out again. She sniffed the air and twitched her ears, but found that the strange human seemed to have vanished. She could not know that Chen Jue was sitting atop the tree, practicing his internal circulation, his energy retracted and his body in a state of fetal breathing. He had become one with the natural environment.

After an hour of practice, Chen Jue realized his skill proficiency hadn't increased by a single point. This internal alchemy technique was stubborn, unlike his other martial arts that grew rapidly with practice. "It seems I'll have to rely on points to level this up," he sighed, stretching his legs and leaning back to sleep.

The forest was silent. As the temperature dropped at night, a wet mist rolled in, but Chen Jue's fetal breathing state kept him warm, much like an animal hibernating. With his high-quality gear keeping him dry, he slept comfortably.

However, Chen Jue did not know that hidden in a patch of weeds not far from the tree was a concealed field research camera. Installed years ago by researchers from the Gongshan Nature Reserve to monitor wildlife, the camera was programmed to turn on periodically at night to save battery. Because the forest lacked cellular signals, the data had to be manually retrieved. Chen Jue’s feeding of the bears and his nocturnal stay in the tree had all been captured on film.

At dawn, as the first rays of light pierced the mist, Chen Jue woke up. He intended to find a stream to wash his face, but his neighbors were already up. The mother bear was outside the den, rubbing her back vigorously against the tree roots—likely still itchy from the bee stings.

Watching the bear, Chen Jue found it fascinating. Bears were unique; they were usually gentle but could be terrifyingly violent when provoked. They were also one of the few mammals that hibernated, using stored fat to survive the winter—a state similar to the "fetal breathing" he practiced. The "Bear Shape" was a profound form in Xingyi martial arts, embodying a deceptive stillness paired with immense power. Many styles, from the "Iron Mountain Lean" of Baji Quan to the "Bear Walking and Bird Stretching" of Taichi, drew inspiration from the natural movements of bears.

Chen Jue realized that observing this "Old Bear Rubbing the Tree" was a rare opportunity to grasp the essence of the Bear Shape, and he watched intently, learning from the way the bear moved its muscles and bones.