Black Tiger barked as he headed down the western slope.
Strangely enough, Cyan Dragon and Black Dragon hadn't reacted to Little Bear's barking, but the moment Black Tiger called out, they both followed him!
"Let's go!" Zhao Jun slung the gun from his shoulder, called out to the three others, and started running down the slope.
On the western slope of West Mountain, near a gully pond. Beside a Bojiwaizi—a dustpan-shaped depression—grew a leaning Amur cork tree. Dense hardy kiwi vines crawled all over it, their countless branches twining around the limbs of the tree, laden with clusters of fruit.
Straddling a fork in the tree, less than a meter and a half off the ground, sat a black bear. It was using both paws to strip hardy kiwis from the vines and stuff them into its massive mouth.
After eating for a bit, it would twist its hips, stick up its short tail, and drop a load at the base of the tree.
By now, several puddles of green, runny shit surrounded the tree's roots.
