As the bear dropped back to all fours and lunged, Mu Yan moved with a preternatural speed born of pure survival instinct. He leaped from the tree, not away from the monstrous beast, but towards it, aiming for the dense undergrowth nearby. The bear, momentarily caught off guard by his audacity, faltered for a fraction of a second. That was all Mu Yan needed. He scooped up a handful of stones, his hands moving in a blur, and hurled them with surprising force, aiming for the bear's sensitive snout and eyes.
The bear roared, a cacophony of pain and fury, momentarily disoriented. Mu Yan didn't pause. He snatched a thick, dangling vine, its rough surface biting into his already weakened grip. With a surge of adrenaline, he swung himself around a sturdy oak, deftly creating a tight loop around the bear's advancing front paw just as it swiped at him. The vine held, taut as a bowstring, tripping the colossal creature. The bear roared, thrashing violently, struggling to free itself, its immense weight threatening to tear the vine asunder.
Mu Yan seized another stone, larger this time, and as the bear struggled, he lunged again, not at its head, but at its vulnerable flank. He pummelled the stone against the bear's ribs, again and again, with all the desperate ferocity of a cornered animal. The bear let out a pained bellow, its movements becoming more erratic, its roars devolving into ragged, wheezing grunts. He kept moving, a ghost in the deepening gloom, utilizing the remaining stones, targeting joints, and other vulnerable points he knew intimately from his past life's vast knowledge of anatomy.
The struggle was gruelling, a savage ballet of primal survival. Mu Yan's breath hitched in his throat, his muscles screamed in protest, but he surged through the agony, fuelled by the sheer, unyielding will to live. He tangled more vines around the bear's thrashing legs, tying desperate knots with hands that trembled but never faltered. The bear, ensnared and battered, finally collapsed with a thunderous thud, its roars fading into ragged, dying gasps.
With a final, desperate surge of strength, Mu Yan found a jagged piece of rock. He raised it high, his vision blurring, and brought it down with a primal scream onto the bear's head. A sickening crunch echoed through the suddenly silent forest. The thrashing stopped. The only sounds were Mu Yan's ragged breathing and the frantic thumping of his own heart. He stood over the colossal carcass, drenched in sweat and grime, his body aching in a thousand places. He, a mere mortal, had defeated a black bear with nothing but his wits, some stones, and vines. He had survived. The harsh path had truly begun.
Coated in the blood of the beast, Mu Yan lay motionless, his body battered and drained. His limbs ached, his breath came in ragged gasps, and exhaustion threatened to consume him. He wanted nothing more than to collapse and let sleep take him, but suddenly, a searing heat radiated from the tattoo on his chest.
A strange energy began to flow from the bear's corpse, drawn irresistibly toward the glowing mark etched into his skin. It siphoned the remnants of the beast's vitality, pulling them into the intricate design, before releasing two distinct streams—one a deep, earthen brown, the other a luminous white-gold. The brown energy streaked toward his heart, merging with his blood and pulsing through his veins. A warmth spread through his body, soothing his bruised muscles, knitting torn fibres, and granting him the strength to move once more.