I just became the Pirate King, and you're telling me I also time-traveled at the same time.

The stones by the pool were the first to react.

It stood up from the edge of the pool, on all fours, its body low to the ground, and made a low "woofing" sound in its throat. It wasn't a whimper of fear, but a warning growl. The sound reverberated from its chest, creating ripples on the water in front of it.

The bushes at the edge of the dense forest were suddenly knocked aside.

A black bear emerged from the dense forest.

Its shoulder blades are high, and with each step it takes, the muscles in its shoulders roll under the skin, like two stones encased in fur grinding against each other.

It has an old scar above its left eye, a scar that stretches from its eyebrow to the corner of its mouth, tearing its left lip in two and revealing its dark red gums.

Its right eye was good, small, and black, embedded in its face like a pebble pressed into the mud. There was no light in the pebble, only a dull, greedy appetite.

It stopped, stood at the top of the scree slope, lowered its head, and looked down at the monkeys in the peach grove with its intact right eye.

Its nostrils flared, and the exhaled air sent the pebbles in front of it spinning several times.

It smelled monkeys—not just one or two, but a whole bunch, warm, furry, with fine, brittle bones and tender flesh.

Two more black bears emerged from behind the first one, smaller than the first, but still several times larger than the largest monkey.

The three bears stood side by side on the scree slope, like three small, moving hills.

The pebbles on the hillside were trampled down by their feet, making a clattering sound. The stones rolled to the bottom of the slope and hit the trunks of the peach trees, making a dull thud.

The monkey troop erupted in chaos.

The little monkeys screamed and ran backwards. Some climbed trees, some crawled into caves, and some, not knowing where to go, just spun around in circles.

The old monkeys didn't run, but they were retreating, step by step, very slowly, as if they dared not expose their backs to the three bears.

The one-eyed old monkey stood at the front, its body taut, its single eye wide open, the eyeball trembling violently in its socket.

It had seen a black bear.

Last winter, a black bear broke into the peach orchard, killed two monkeys, and dragged them away.

That winter, the snow was heavy. The monkeys hid in their cave and heard screams coming from outside. The screams continued for three minutes before fading away.

The blue-eyed old monkey walked up to the one-eyed old monkey and touched its arm with its front paw.

The one-eyed old monkey didn't look at it, but it moved its body to the side, making room for the blue-eyed old monkey.

Two old monkeys stood side by side at the front of the troop, facing the three bears on the hillside, motionless.

Chu Yang and Sun Wukong were on the other side of the waterfall.

Chu Yang was sharpening his dagger when they heard the monkeys screaming.

He placed the whetstone on his knees and pushed the dagger back and forth on it, adding a little water with each push, the blade making a uniform "shh" sound on the stone.

When the scream came, his hand stopped, the blade resting in the middle of the whetstone, water seeping from the gap between the blade and the stone surface, dripping onto his knees.

He stood up, tucked the dagger into his waistband, and walked toward the direction from which the screams were coming.

He walked quickly, but he didn't run.

As he passed through the peach grove, he walked sideways between the tree trunks, his robes not touching a single leaf.

Sun Wukong followed behind him, the golden cudgel already in his hand. The cudgel spun around in his palm, transforming from the size of a needle into an iron rod as thick as his wrist.

When they reached the other side of the scree slope, this is what they saw: three black bears had come down the scree slope and were standing at the edge of the peach grove, with the scarred bear in front less than ten steps away from the one-eyed old monkey.

The troop of monkeys huddled behind the two old monkeys, their bodies pressed together, their fur touching, the sound of their teeth clashing mingling with the suppressed whimpers of the baby monkeys, echoing through the peach grove.

The one-eyed old monkey did not retreat.

Its hind legs were trembling, but it did not back down.

It opened its mouth and let out a hoarse roar at the scarred bear.

The roar sounded particularly jarring in the quiet forest, but it didn't frighten the scarred bear—the bear didn't even blink.

It simply tilted its head, as if looking at something strange, and then snorted through its nose.

The snort carried a foul, fishy odor, which sprayed onto the one-eyed old monkey's face, causing a patch of fur on its face to fall backward.

The one-eyed old monkey's roar got stuck in its throat, and its body swayed, but it still didn't back down.

A thin layer of water glistened in its single eye, but it stared intently at the scarred bear, its claws digging four deep furrows in the ground.

Chu Yang stood on the other side of the peach grove.

From his position, he could see the whole situation—the fear of the monkey troop was like a wall, so thick that you could almost see its color.

He knew what the monkeys were afraid of.

What they fear is not death, but the feeling of being crushed.

When faced with a beast several times their size, their claws and teeth cannot even scratch its fur; their speed and agility are meaningless in the face of absolute size and strength.

They have been fleeing for over four hundred years; fleeing has become an instinct for them.

He knows that feeling.

In the world of cultivation, the weak also feel this way when facing the strong.

Unable to win, unable to escape, all they can do is cower and wait to die.

But if they don't learn to fight back, they will always be the weak ones.

Today it's just him and Sun Wukong here; the three-headed bear is nothing.

But what about next time? And the time after that? They won't stay in Flower Fruit Mountain forever.

Chu Yang removed his hand from the dagger and walked out of the peach grove empty-handed.

His footsteps were neither too light nor too heavy, making a "crunch crunch" sound as he stepped on the fallen leaves.

The sound was clear in the quiet peach grove; the monkeys and bears all heard it.

The monkeys looked back at him, their eyes filled with fear and pleading.

Scarface Bear also looked up at him, his small black eyes lingering on him for a moment before looking away, as if he were not worth paying attention to.

Chu Yang walked up to the one-eyed old monkey and stopped.

He didn't draw his sword, didn't stand still, and didn't adopt any attacking stance.

He simply stood there, glanced down at the one-eyed old monkey, then pointed at the scarred bear and said something.

"Hit it."

The one-eyed old monkey looked up at him, its single eye full of confusion.

The monkey troop was also puzzled. Several of the little monkeys stopped whimpering and peeked at Chu Yang through their fingers.

They don't understand what this person is saying.

Fight? How could they fight? Their ancestors were killed by black bears, their kind were dragged away by black bears, and they have lived on this mountain for generations, always being hunted, never hunting anyone.

Chu Yang repeated himself, this time with a louder voice and a stronger tone: "Hit it."

You can beat them.

Stone reacted faster than all the monkeys.

It had already emerged from the monkey troop when Chu Yang said "hit it" for the first time.

Its four paws were trembling, its tail was tucked between its two hind legs, and its eyes were fixed on the scarred bear's massive body, its pupils shrinking to pinpoints.

But it made it out.

It walked over to Chu Yang, stood in front of the one-eyed old monkey, looked up at the scarred bear, and let out a short "squeak".

The way that "squeak" was made was different from usual—usually it was a question, but this time it was a declaration of war.

Chu Yang looked at the stone; this young monkey was his student whom he had trained the longest on Flower Fruit Mountain.

If even it doesn't dare to fight back, then the monkey troop will never learn to fight back.

He took a step back, making room for the space in front of him.

"Stone," he said, "use the fists I taught you."

Hit its nose.

Shi Tou turned around and glanced at Chu Yang.

A fleeting moment of hesitation crossed its eyes, but that moment was so brief as to be almost nonexistent.

It turned its head back, took a deep breath, pushed off the ground with its hind legs, and charged towards the scarred bear like an arrow.

A scream erupted from the monkey troop.

Several old monkeys reached out to grab the stone, but they couldn't.

The stone slipped between their fingers, and they ran three steps on all fours. Then, with a powerful push from their hind legs, they leaped into the air, their right forepaw clenched into a fist—Chu Yang had taught them how to clench their fists, and their thumb was tucked outwards. It wasn't perfect, but it was enough—and they hurled it at the scarred bear's nose.

Scarface Bear didn't take the little monkey seriously at all.

In its understanding, monkeys don't attack bears, just as rabbits don't attack tigers.

So it neither dodged nor blocked, but let out an impatient growl from its throat, and even stretched its head forward a little, trying to knock the ignorant little monkey away with its head.

But the stone was moving much faster than it had expected.

As Scarface Bear stretched its head forward, Stone's fist slammed into its nose.

It wasn't claws scratching; it was a clenched fist, with joints and muscles, carrying the strength honed over a month of training, precisely striking the softest piece of cartilage on the bear's nose.

Scarface Bear let out a deafening scream.

Its nasal bridge wasn't broken, but the blood vessels in its nasal cavity were ruptured by the punch, and blood gushed from its two nostrils, splattering onto the stone's face and chest.

It staggered back a step, covered its nose with its front paws, and shook its head wildly, splattering blood beads everywhere.

From birth until now, it has never been hit on the nose by any animal, let alone a monkey.

For the first time, fear appeared in its right eye—not fear of the strong, but fear of an opponent who did not play by the rules at all.

In its world, monkeys are prey, and prey should not fight back.

But the stone didn't give it time to react.

It bounced up the moment it landed—Chu Yang had taught it that once you hit it, you shouldn't stop, because stopping gives the opponent an opportunity—it circled around to the side of the scarred bear and threw another punch, this time hitting the scarred bear's left eye.

Scarface Bear's eye was struck by the fist, and blood immediately welled up in its eyeball. It let out another scream, its body tilting to the right, its front paws flailing wildly in the air, trying to grab the stone. But the stone had practiced its footwork countless days and nights, and its body weaved between the bear's paws, which couldn't even touch the fur on the tip of its tail.

The monkey troop quieted down.

It was completely quiet.

The screams of dozens of monkeys stopped at the same moment, as if someone had covered their mouths.

They watched every movement the stone made—pushing off the ground, twisting its waist, throwing a punch, retracting its fist, dodging—movements they had seen countless times on flat ground, but this was the first time they had seen them in actual combat.

For the first time, they realized that those mornings when their legs trembled from standing in the stance, those afternoons when their claws were worn raw from punching the air, and those evenings when they were swept into the pool by Chu Yang's palm strikes and then climbed out again, were all for this.

It turns out that after practicing these things, a monkey really can fight a bear.

The stone hadn't been fighting alone for too long.

After it punched the scarred bear in the ear for the third time, a second monkey rushed out of the troop, then a third, and a fourth.

He wasn't called out by Chu Yang; he rushed out on his own.

Their legs were still trembling, and their claws were still shaking as they clenched their fists, but they charged out.

Because they saw it—the blood on the scarred bear's nose, the fear in its eyes, and how their own kind had used their skilled hands to inflict pain on an invincible behemoth.

That image was more powerful than any words.

All five monkeys, trained in physical strength and breathing techniques, joined the battle.

There was no demonic light, no magical power, only the strength of the muscles and bones and the explosive power brought about by breathing.

Stone dealt with Scarface Bear, while the other four entangled the two smaller black bears behind.

They used the punches taught by Chu Yang to strike the bear's nose and eyes, and the breathing techniques taught by Sun Wukong to maintain their strength. After striking a few times, they would retreat to catch their breath before pouncing again.

They didn't fight randomly—they learned to cooperate, to divide tasks, and to use their speed and agility to attack the opponent's weaknesses.

Immediately afterwards, the monkeys without demon bones also moved.

They had never practiced boxing, but Chu Yang had taught them footwork and pouncing techniques.

They didn't rush up to attack the bear; they were too small, and their punches would have been like tickling the bear.

But they could do other things—an old monkey climbed a tree, picked some green wild fruit, and smashed it down on the black bear's head with all its might.

The wild fruit shattered on the black bear's forehead, and the sour juice splashed into its eyes. The black bear shook its head and let out a painful growl.

The other monkeys, seeing this, immediately understood—they picked up the pebbles on the ground, climbed the trees, and threw them down from above, raining down on the three black bears.

Bear skin is very thick; a stone hitting it won't draw blood, but a stone hitting your eye will hurt, a stone hitting your nose will make you feel sore, and a stone hitting your ear will make you hear a buzzing sound.

The three bears were attacked from both above and below, and were completely thrown into disarray.

The one-eyed old monkey was the last to rush forward.

It ran slowly, its old injury to its hind legs making it wobble as it ran, but it ran very fast—the kind of reckless speed, each step hard, sending pebbles flying backward as it kicked them.

It ran behind the scarred bear, opened its mouth, and used its few remaining teeth to bite the scarred bear's hind leg hard.

Its teeth aren't sharp, and its bite force isn't strong enough, but once it bites, it won't let go. Even if the scarred bear swings its leg and sends it flying, its teeth remain firmly embedded in the bear skin.