HNYWEF -Chapter 49 The Bear

Nineteenth day of the eighth month, first year of Zhenguan.

After that Mid-Autumn poetry gathering, nobody mentioned it again.

As if it had never happened at all.

The sun was pleasant, the sky high and clear. The wind blowing through was dry and crisp, carrying the faint scent of grass and trees.

The training grounds were west of the city.

The place was huge and open, rows of poplars planted around the perimeter. Their leaves had already started turning yellow.

Soldiers drilled across the field, their shouts shaking the air. From afar, it sounded like rolling thunder.

Cheng Yaojin walked in front with long strides.

Zhou Xiong followed behind, holding Zhou Yi’s hand.

It was the child’s first time in a place like this, and his eyes could hardly keep up.

One moment he was looking at the soldiers drilling over there, the next at the targets standing in rows, then at the weapon racks piled beside the field. Everything was new. Everything made him want to stare a little longer.

“Dad, what’s that?”

“A bow.”

“What about that one?”

“A halberd.”

Zhou Xiong answered in one or two words, never more than necessary. But whenever Zhou Yi asked, he replied.

Cheng Yaojin listened from the front, the corners of his mouth lifting slightly.

When they reached the middle of the grounds, someone came forward to meet them.

Dark-skinned, broad, with a full beard and a stride full of force.

Yuchi Gong.

He walked up, first nodding to Cheng Yaojin, then turning toward Zhou Xiong.

He sized him up once.

From head to toe. Then from toe to head.

After that, he cupped his fists.

“I’ve long heard of you.”

Just four words, his voice deep and heavy, like it rumbled out from his chest.

Zhou Xiong looked at him.

Said nothing.

Didn’t return the salute either.

He simply stood there, looking at him.

Cheng Yaojin laughed from the side.

“Old Black, heard of him how? Do you even know who he is?”

Yuchi Gong ignored him.

He kept staring at Zhou Xiong. Something shifted in his eyes. The look wasn’t fierce, nor friendly.

He was just… looking.

Zhou Yi stood beside his father. When that gaze swept over him, the hairs on his back suddenly prickled.

Not fear.

Something else.

He couldn’t explain it.

It felt like his father and this man were not meeting for the first time.

Yuchi Gong finally spoke.

“The Bear of Wagang Stronghold. Your stories are everywhere in the army camps.”

Zhou Xiong still said nothing.

Cheng Yaojin laughed even harder.

“It’s good enough that you’ve heard of him. Then do you know how many lives he’s saved?”

“I do,” Yuchi Gong said.

“And do you know what he’s like in battle?”

Yuchi Gong didn’t answer.

He looked at Zhou Xiong.

For three breaths.

Zhou Xiong looked back at him.

The two men simply stood there, five or six steps apart. Wind swept over from the poplar trees, stirring the hems of their clothes.

The sounds of training still thundered around the field.

Boom boom boom. Boom boom boom.

But to Zhou Yi, those sounds suddenly seemed farther away.

Yuchi Gong moved first.

“That’s exactly what I don’t know. So—”

He pulled off his outer robe and tossed it onto the ground.

The movement wasn’t dramatic, but it was clean and decisive.

Underneath he wore a short coarse tunic, exposing both arms.

Dark. Thick. Muscles bulging like forged iron.

Scars crossed his arms, several of them. Some long, some short. Some already faded, others still pale white.

He stepped forward two paces.

Stopping opposite Zhou Xiong.

Three or four steps apart.

Then he took a stance.

Feet apart wider than his shoulders. Knees bent slightly as he sank lower. Both fists clenched, one forward and one back, guarding his chest.

His eyes locked onto Zhou Xiong.

That look—

Standing behind them, Zhou Yi saw it clearly.

It was a hunter’s gaze.

Like he was staring at prey.

Ready to pounce at any moment.

Ready to tear a man apart.

Zhou Xiong looked at him.

For two breaths.

Then he moved too.

He didn’t take off his clothes.

He simply let both arms hang down naturally at his sides.

His feet were spread apart, about shoulder-width.

His knees bent ever so slightly. Light. Subtle. So subtle that if you didn’t look carefully, you wouldn’t even notice.

He just stood there.

Looking at Yuchi Gong.

There wasn’t a trace of expression on his face.

Yuchi Gong’s brow twitched.

Just once.

He looked at Zhou Xiong’s stance and narrowed his eyes slightly.

Not contempt.

Something else.

Then he spoke.

“Bear blind.”

Zhou Xiong said nothing.

Yuchi Gong spoke again. “I heard you’ve got something in your hands? Something fast and black?”

Zhou Xiong still didn’t answer.

Yuchi Gong waited for a breath.

Then he nodded.

“Fine.”

Just that one word.

It meant he acknowledged Zhou Xiong’s challenge.

He stepped back half a pace.

Not retreating—adjusting.

Both legs tightened like drawn bowstrings.

His eyes stayed fixed on Zhou Xiong.

That gaze grew even sharper.

Behind them, Zhou Yi stared at his father’s back.

That back was too familiar to him.

Every morning when they practiced martial arts, his father stood in front of him exactly like this. The stance, the position, the angle—he knew them all by heart.

But today was different.

He couldn’t explain what was different.

It just was.

He looked at his father’s hanging hands.

They just hung there.

Holding nothing.

Gripping nothing.

But Zhou Yi knew there was something in his father’s hands.

Yuchi Gong was looking too.

He looked at those loosely hanging hands, at that slack-looking stance, at that utterly expressionless face.

He watched for a while.

Then suddenly he smiled.

A very faint smile.

“Interesting,” he said.

The wind blew in from the poplar trees, carrying the rustling of leaves.

The sounds of drilling soldiers still thundered around the training grounds.

Boom boom boom. Boom boom boom.

The two men simply stood there.

One taut, like a fully drawn bow.

One loose, like he’d just woken up.

Cheng Yaojin stood nearby with his arms folded, watching the scene.

Then he suddenly spoke.

“Old Black.”

Yuchi Gong didn’t turn around.

Cheng Yaojin said, “You sure about this?”

Yuchi Gong said nothing.

He just kept staring at Zhou Xiong.

And Zhou Xiong stared back.

Neither moved.

The wind kept blowing.

Standing behind them, Zhou Yi didn’t even dare breathe too loudly.

Suddenly, he remembered the things his father used to say while teaching him martial arts—

“When you stand your post, your eyes look forward. Not at one spot—at everything in front of you.”

“When your hands hang down, that’s not relaxation. It means they can rise at any moment.”

“You may be standing still, but inside, you need to know.”

Now, looking at his father, Zhou Yi suddenly began to understand what those words meant.

The man standing there looked lazy and loose, like he didn’t care about anything.

But Zhou Yi knew.

His father knew exactly what he was doing.

And Yuchi Gong knew it too.

He stared at Zhou Xiong for a long time.

Then he smiled again.

This time the smile was more obvious than before.

“Good.”

Just that one word.

Then he simply stood there without moving again.

But Cheng Yaojin still walked over and patted Zhou Xiong on the shoulder.

“We’re all brothers here. Just messing around. Don’t actually beat somebody half to death.”