Winter days were cold, and all beasts hibernated, including the bears, which generally would not awaken until the warmth of the coming spring, when all things began to bloom anew.
At this moment, it was still January, bitterly cold, and the ground frozen. Prematurely awakened, having had insufficient sleep, the bears' brains were foggy. The cold weather and empty stomach made any creature instinctively furious and violent.
The black bear once again roared loudly, heedless of its surroundings, opened its jaws wide and, with sharp, menacing teeth, lunged at the tender young girl in front of it.
"Stop!"
In a sudden surge of panic, Anfeng no longer cared about Mr. Ying's prohibition against drawing his sword. His wrist twisted, and the Eight-Sided Wooden Sword, which he always carried, slid out of its sheath. His spirit, vitality, and energy merged as one as he aimed the sword toward the gaping maw of the black bear.