It was March, the spring sunshine melting the winter snow. In the south, people could already feel the breath of spring, but the northern ice and snow were still reluctant to leave.
Beneath a massive ancient pine, a brown bear nearly as tall as a two-story building lazily emerged from its hollow. His name was Ye Qingshan, and he was the king of the bears for nearly a thousand miles around. Lying on the cold snow, he crunched a couple of mouthfuls of it, the icy meltwater washing away the grogginess of hibernation.
A piercing eagle cry rang out from the horizon. In the talons of a black eagle with a twenty-meter wingspan, a man with one arm severed was being carried toward Ye Qingshan...
