Chapter Thirty-Five: This Is Only the Beginning

In the dense mountain forest, a cool breeze drifted through the air, and the lingering rays of spring sunlight scattered gently, carrying a faint warmth amid the subtle passage of time. Little beasts emerged from their slumber, blinking sleepily, nudging aside sturdy grass beds, poking their heads out, timidly seeking the rhythm that belonged to the new generation.

This ought to have been a scene of a pleasant spring outing—not with strong spirits nor exquisite dishes, but with the poetic charm of distant green grass and the vitality of earth returning to life as tender buds sprout. Even here, amidst rows of withered branches and fallen leaves deep in the mountains, spring’s vigor remained undiminished.

Yet at this moment, hidden in a remote corner of the mountains, Hu San and his companions had no mind to appreciate the beauty of spring; grim clouds were etched onto every face. Several makeshift stretchers woven from grass lay askew on the ground, faint traces of fresh blood visible upon them.

“How many times has it been now?”

Hu San couldn’t help but lick his cracked lips as he gazed at the men who had been nearly torn to shreds, and at Xiang Bao, who was almost snapped into two. In just half a day, they had been overtaken by the White Bear three times. If not for the White Bear’s unfamiliarity with these woods, they would have had no chance to escape even the first time.

Originally, over forty people had withdrawn from the mountain stronghold, but now, only around twenty could still run; the rest were either dead or gravely wounded. In this era, the latter was synonymous with death.

Most dire of all, the intervals between the White Bear finding their trail grew shorter each time, indicating their enemy was rapidly becoming familiar with the forest. Once the pursuers knew the terrain well, the only fate awaiting them would be death.

Every member of the party bore wounds; even Hu San, who had prided himself on remaining unscathed, had been struck heavily on the back by the White Bear’s iron ruler. Had it not been for his agility and cultivated inner strength, that blow would have put him down for good.

The hundred men under White Bear’s command were all elite fighters—not quite the Bear Squad, but close enough. Most fatally, the unit operated with military precision, trusting their comrades to cover their backs in battle. If Hu San, with all his skill, were trapped within their formation, it would be like falling into a sea of blades and spears—utterly constrained, not to mention the fate of the surviving newcomers.

A head-on fight was out of the question. This time, it seemed the Black Bear Stronghold was determined—there would be no turning back without exterminating him.

“Third Brother, we’re running low on food,” Lin Hu quietly approached, stooping and whispering.

Hu San was taken aback; he hadn’t expected to face such desperation so soon.

He knew he had to decide quickly, or none of his men would survive, himself included.

Coughing to gather everyone’s attention, Hu San said, “Brothers, there’s no need to spell out our situation. Our only escape is to reach Wolf Heart Stronghold and find the main force. So, we must head north.”

“But there are many paths north, and we’re currently taking the nearest one.”

“There are surely expert trackers among White Bear’s hundred men. If we go together, they’ll see right through us. So, we need to split up.”

“Lin Hu will distribute the food shortly. Each group of two or three will take a different route. Whether you reach Wolf Heart Stronghold will be up to fate. If you get the chance, avenge the fallen brothers one day.”

Everyone exchanged uneasy glances, not knowing what to say. Soon, Lin Hu divided the hurriedly gathered provisions among them.

“Go quickly; I’ll go alone,” Hu San said, flashing a carefree smile in response to their searching eyes.

“Third Brother!” Their voices caught in their throats, but Hu San pressed on, “Leave at once. With my abilities, they won’t catch me. I want to see just how many heads White Bear really has.”

Even the most reluctant Lin Hu was finally driven off by Hu San’s rebuke, leaving him alone in this place.

Staring into the deep forest, Hu San sighed inwardly, “This course is forced upon me. First, their main target is likely me. If we travel together, they’ll expose my trail—better to go alone.”

“On the other hand, once scattered, their tracking will be less smooth, their sights confused by multiple trails—my chance.”

“If I’m not their main target, all the better. They won’t waste effort on me, and though others are at greater risk, I’ll be safer.”

“If they hunt us without scruples, even my skills won’t let me outrun them for long—one hundred men working in perfect coordination, led by White Bear himself. How can we compete?”

“Only if they fear us and hesitate in pursuit will my opportunity arise.”

“Finally, perhaps this move will preserve some of my foundation for a future comeback. Otherwise, even if I survive, rebuilding would be hard—loyal comrades are rare, and those who have shared life and death rarer still.”

Silently reviewing his reasons for dividing the group, Hu San concluded, “So I must stay behind, show White Bear a lesson, and win hearts.”

Taking out all his food, Hu San devoured it in the cool breeze. Then, with a leap, he glanced toward the path, crouched low, and darted southward.

Not far from Hu San’s resting place, in another grove, White Bear and his hundred elite men were resting. Compared to Hu San, they were much more comfortable, with men out hunting wild game. Fires burned, roasting unknown beasts, fat dripping into the flames with crackling bursts—a truly pleasant scene.

White Bear was gnawing on a beast leg, beside him a red-haired man—Captain Wu, chief of this pursuit squad and confidant of Black Bear, the great chieftain.

Finishing the leg, White Bear brushed his hands, glanced at the sky, and said, “Captain Wu, time’s almost up. Those cubs will be on the move again. Send a few brothers to check their trail, but don’t let them stray too far from the main force.”

“We’ll follow once everyone’s eaten.”

“Rest assured,” Captain Wu replied, calling out, “Zhou Xiang, are you full yet? If so, take your squad and look for those cubs’ tracks. Remember—don’t go too far.”

“No problem, Captain. Brothers, follow me.”

On the grass not far off, a one-eyed brute stood up at the call, waved, and led seven or eight men away, searching in the direction Hu San and his group had fled.

Though they’d suffered some casualties along the way, it was minimal. This pursuit felt like chasing rabbits—so smooth it defied description.

Thus, the squads’ vigilance was lax; they sensed no danger, nor did they believe Hu San or his men would dare double back for an ambush.

“Ma, Xu, head that way. Liu, Jing, go over there. Check every trace closely—don’t let those cubs escape. If you do, forget the chieftain; I’ll skin you myself.”

Loud orders rang out, and the men responded.

“This Zhou Xiang is quite a talent,” White Bear remarked with a slight smile, then continued his idle conversation with Captain Wu.

Hidden among thick dead grass, Hu San lay silently. Zhou Xiang’s booming commands reached his ears clearly.

“So, White Bear’s main force is over there. What a reckless search team. Today, I’ll teach you a lesson.”

As he pondered, two bandits appeared within Hu San’s sight.

Perhaps he feared the hundred bandits’ battle formation, but against two separated men—even the most elite—with his skills, all he needed was to confront them directly.

When they drew within four or five paces, Hu San suddenly pushed off the ground, his body launching like a tiger or leopard in the hunt, springing through the air.

Arms outstretched like an eagle swooping, Hu San embraced both men at once. Before they could raise the alarm, he locked their necks from above, exerted a slight force—crack, crack—two heads twisted three hundred sixty degrees.

He licked his lips, gently laid the still-warm corpses in the grass, and, following the sound, slipped back into the forest.

Soon after, the search party was reduced to a single patrol leader on the road—Zhou Xiang.

“Damn, looks like those little rabbits didn’t detour after all, still following the mountain trail. Had me worried for nothing,” Zhou Xiang muttered as he crawled along, inspecting traces. He exhaled lightly, cursing, “Why haven’t those rabbits made a sound? Maybe they lost the trail and don’t know to turn back?”

Just as he was about to call out, a hand tapped his shoulder from behind.

“Which rabbit—” Zhou Xiang turned slowly, thinking some fellow bandit was playing a prank, but when his gaze met the youth’s ambiguous smile, he fell silent.

Then, a fierce gust struck him. Before he could raise the alarm, a small hand—seemingly childish, yet strong as iron pincers—seized his throat.

As Hu San tightened his grip, Zhou Xiang felt his strength drain and his blood surge backward. He could only thrash helplessly.

With a sudden squeeze, blood sprayed everywhere, drenching Hu San’s body. Zhou Xiang’s neck was mashed to pulp, his windpipe torn out.

With his spine shattered, Zhou Xiang’s head dangled like a ball from his chest—dead beyond doubt.

“This is only the beginning.”

Hu San licked the blood from his lips, gently laid Zhou Xiang’s corpse down, and quietly waited for the next patrol squad to arrive.