The bear charged again and again, snarling in pain and rage, its remaining eye locked onto John with murderous focus.
Each strike was faster than the last—slashes, bites, wing smashes, horn thrusts, but John moved like a shadow, dipping, ducking, flipping over broken rocks and skidding beneath sweeping claws.
His Level 5 Breathing Technique had long since kicked in fully.
His lungs worked like bellows, cycling spiritual energy through his body with machine-like precision.
His stamina didn't falter.
Even as sweat poured down his back and his muscles screamed with exertion, his breathing remained calm and measured.
What he lacked in power, he made up for in endurance.
He couldn't overpower the bear head-on, but he could outlast it.
The cave echoed with the sounds of violence, bone on stone, claws raking the ground, fists slamming into thick hide.
John kept up the assault, aiming at the joints, the base of the wings, the unarmored belly when he could.
Bruises bloomed across his arms, and his knuckles were raw and bleeding, but his focus never wavered.
Twice the bear nearly caught him, once with its horn in a sudden charge that grazed his ribs, and again when a wing clipped his shoulder and sent him tumbling.
But both times, he pushed himself back up, blood dripping from his mouth, and reengaged.
They were evenly matched in cultivation, but John's mental clarity and battle discipline gave him an edge.
And then, after two full hours of relentless fighting, his chance came.
The bear reared up for one final pounce, bleeding from its blinded eye and several minor wounds.
Its breath came in harsh gasps, rage burning hot in its veins.
As it lunged forward with both claws raised, John let himself drop backward into a slide beneath the bear's chest.
He surged upward with every ounce of strength left, slamming his elbow into the bear's exposed throat, then followed with a flurry of punches directly into its lower jaw.
The beast roared in pain, but just before it collapsed, its claws came down in one final, wild swing.
Riiip—!
John didn't have time to dodge.
The claws tore across his chest in a vicious arc, slicing through his robe and flesh in a flash of red.
He cried out, stumbling backward as blood poured from the deep wound, soaking into the cave floor.
But the damage had been done.
The bear let out a final breathless growl before collapsing onto its side with a dull thud, its massive body twitching once… and then going still.
John stood there, trembling, his bare chest torn open and slick with blood.
The adrenaline was fading now, replaced by pain, hot, burning pain that made it hard to breathe.
He fell to one knee, gasping, clutching at the wound as he forced his mind to stay focused.
"I did it…" he whispered, eyes locked on the bear's corpse.
His victory had come at a cost, but he had won.
This cave was his now.
Without delay, John began peeling away the blood-stained bandages wrapped around his torso, the ones he had hastily applied after his earlier battle with that savage, black dog-like beast.
The fabric was stiff and dark with dried blood, clinging to his wounds as if unwilling to let go.
Each pull sent a jolt of pain lancing through his nerves, but he gritted his teeth and bore it in silence.
Once the old bandages were removed, he quickly redirected his focus to the fresh wound carved across his chest by the horned bear's dying strike.
The flesh was torn open in a jagged arc, the edges raw and still bleeding profusely.
With practiced urgency, he took the cleaner strips from his pouch, prepared earlier in case of emergency, and pressed them against the wound, wrapping tightly around his upper torso to stanch the flow of blood.
His entire body throbbed with pain, heat radiating from the injury like fire licking beneath his skin.
And yet, through that intense discomfort, a small smile played across his lips.
He had survived.
Despite the odds, despite the strength of the beast, he had emerged victorious.
This cave was his now, earned with blood and persistence.
Once the wound was secured, John leaned back against the damp cave wall and closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in slow, deep breaths.
He activated the internal circulation of his Bone Refinement Realm, allowing spiritual energy to gently pulse through his meridians.
The soothing flow dulled the pain slightly, though the damage remained.
Still, he couldn't afford to rest for long.
Pushing himself up, he winced but kept moving, driven by urgency.
Without wasting another second, he moved to the bear's lifeless body.
Muscles straining and sweat dripping from his brow, he heaved the beast's immense form onto his back, its massive bulk nearly as wide as the cave mouth itself, and stumbled outside, retracing his steps to the nearby stream he had noticed earlier.
There, beneath the pale moonlight and beside the gentle flow of water, he laid the body down on the grass.
The sound of trickling water and chirping insects filled the night, but John's senses remained sharp.
I can't risk attracting more beasts, he thought grimly.
The smell of blood will bring predators.
If I'm caught off guard in this state, I won't survive.
Gritting his teeth against the burning pain in his chest, he picked up a sharp-edged stone from the riverbank.
It wasn't a blade, but it was jagged enough to cut through flesh with effort.
He began carving through the black fur at the bear's belly, working slowly but precisely.
Each motion caused his wound to flare, but he ignored it.
Blood spilled into the water and grass as he worked, his fingers aching and his breathing labored.
The hide was thick and resistant, and more than once the stone slipped from his grasp.
Still, he kept going, determined.
Then, as he began cutting through the chest area, the stone met something solid—harder than bone.
The vibration jolted up his wrist.
He paused, blinking sweat from his eyes.
"A stone?" he murmured, frowning.
He pressed his hand into the bear's chest cavity and reached inward, fingers exploring the space between shattered ribs and congealed blood.
Suddenly, his fingertips brushed against something warm and pulsing faintly with spiritual energy.
Carefully, he gripped it and pulled.
Out came a small, yellowish orb, about the size of a walnut, faintly glowing in the moonlight.
"A beast core…" he breathed.
He recognized it instantly.
During his time in the Nine Sky Clan, he had studied enough to know their significance.
These cores, formed in the bodies of high-level spirit beasts, were concentrated masses of spiritual energy.
Alchemists used them to refine powerful pills, blacksmiths forged them into weapon cores, and cultivators sometimes risked refining them to boost their own strength.
But for someone like John, in his current condition, it was too dangerous to attempt absorbing it.
It's worth a fortune in the right place.
But for now, it's nothing more than valuable luggage.
He wiped it clean and slipped it into his inner pocket, then resumed his work on the carcass.
After another hour of effort, he finished stripping away the hide and harvesting ten kilograms of clean, usable meat.
The rest—organs, bones, and entrails—he left behind, tossing them into the stream to let the current carry them away or leave them as a gift to the other beasts of the wilderness.
Any more than this, and I won't be able to preserve it.
It'll rot before I can cook or consume it.
He stood slowly, body trembling from fatigue, and looked down at the meat he had wrapped in leaves and cloth.
The thick fur hide was slung over one shoulder.
"Ten kilograms… that's all I can carry," he muttered, his voice barely above a whisper.
With a final glance at the dismembered carcass of the fallen beast, he turned and began the slow walk back toward his cave.
By the time he returned, dawn was beginning to tint the sky with a pale silver hue.
Inside the cave, the smell of blood still lingered thick in the air, a reminder of the brutal struggle that had just ended hours ago.
He didn't rest, not yet.
He dropped the meat and the fur near the wall and immediately set about cleaning the battlefield.
Using a handful of broad leaves, water from his canteen, and whatever clean cloth he had left, he scrubbed away the dark pools of dried blood, dragging the heavier stones aside and brushing loose fur and dust into a pile near the entrance.
It took three more hours, long, grueling, painful hours, before the cave was finally cleared of the stench and signs of battle.
He even smeared ashes and crushed wild herbs along the entrance to mask the scent, hoping it would deter any curious beasts from coming too close.
Only when everything was in order did he collapse against the cave wall, his back sliding down until he was sitting on the cold stone floor.
His chest throbbed with every heartbeat, and his limbs felt like they were filled with molten iron.
But still, he remained calm.
His breath slowed, and his thoughts began to settle.
One battle survived.
One shelter claimed.
One step closer to safety.
Now came the hardest part, recovery… and cultivation.