Xuefeng's plan was simple: inflict some wounds with the clone, then lure the bear toward the lake. He held his breath, approaching with painstaking stealth. But when he was two or three meters away, a twig snapped loudly beneath his foot, the sound cracking through the hush like a pistol shot.
Damn it.
He reacted on instinct, remembering Wuying's teachings about when to attack and when to run. Instead of pressing forward, he hurled himself into a backward roll—and not a moment too soon. The bear spun, growling, and brought one massive paw swinging into the spot where Xuefeng had just been crouching. Its claws shone like tempered steel, glinting with a strange metallic sheen that spread along the creature's fur.
When the paw slammed into empty air, Xuefeng felt a surge of confidence—this might be easier than he'd feared. He activated his movement technique, feeling the sudden burst of speed rush through his limbs, and dashed straight for the bear with sword raised.
