Chapter Forty-Eight: The Peril of the Foraging Bees

When I saw what was inside the bird’s nest, I was surprised to find quite a few—five eggs about the size of chicken eggs, and just looking at them made my heart race. Standing on the branch, I almost felt a rush of triumph! I even began to wonder whether to cook the eggs over embers or boil them in a bamboo tube.

After a moment of joy and a sense of satisfaction, I carefully took the eggs out and placed them into a cloth bag I had prepared.

That cloth bag was somewhat unsettling in origin. It had been torn directly from the leg of the man from last night. I hadn’t looked at his stomach then, but seeing he only had that pant leg, I thought it would be wasteful to let it go, so I cut it off with my short knife and washed it clean in the river.

Using a cloth strip, I tied the opening tightly, turning it into a perfectly good bag. Perhaps I was truly fortunate. While cautiously calming my nerves and moving toward the remaining side of the nest, I suddenly heard bird calls from above.

Looking up, I saw a brightly colored bird, about the size of a domestic rooster. It was screaming fiercely between the branches, waiting for the right moment before lunging to peck at me.

Seeing its ferocity, I instinctively raised my hand to block. In that moment, I forgot I was standing on a branch with no support. Naturally, I lost my grip and fell from the height.

I was terrified, my soul nearly fled. Forgetting the bird’s attacks, I hurriedly reached out to grab a nearby thick branch. Fortunately, I was lucky—the fall was only about two or three meters before I caught myself on a branch as thick as an arm.

Landing with my legs spread apart, the pain was instant and fierce; my face changed color immediately. There was no one around to hear, but I couldn’t help but groan. Even if someone had been there, I doubt I could have held back the sound, as it felt like my legs might shatter beneath me.

Once my mind settled, I barely noticed the pain and clutched the branch tightly to pull myself up.

I slipped behind another branch to evade the bird’s relentless attacks. Now steady on my feet, I watched the bird circle above, its cries tinged with sorrow. Perhaps it understood the deep grudge between us—it darted through the branches several times, seemingly unwilling to give up.

Never had I imagined that one day I could be so humiliated by a bird!

But now I held the advantage. Watching it dive and swoop repeatedly, I drew the sharp spike at my waist.

Several times as it charged, I lunged fiercely with the spike, though my eyesight and speed weren’t sharp enough to land a hit. The bird always narrowly avoided me. It didn’t retreat either, and after losing a few feathers, it flew a bit farther away but kept calling.

I even felt a pang of regret, a faint ache in my heart. Yet seeing it cry out in the air, unwilling to leave, as if it knew it could not defeat me, its voice carried a note of desolation.

Finally, feeling a bit uneasy, as it hesitated to approach, I moved down quickly with regret. Though I didn’t descend the tree immediately, I hid behind some leaves, watching the bird with irritation.

After sitting on a branch for a while, despite its continued lament, I gradually calmed down and reflected on my lucky escape from the fall. Whether this bird was sentient or not, I felt no pity.

After all, in my eyes, birds like this were no different from domestic fowl. When humans needed to survive, whether through domestication or direct means, they were meant to become food to sustain life. This was not a pet sanctuary; these people needed to survive.

But just as I rested briefly, I suddenly sensed something was wrong. A terrifying buzzing sounded sharply in my ears. Perhaps due to the tension since arriving here, my hearing had grown remarkably acute.

Following the sound, I saw a swarm of wild bees flying toward me. A wave of terror mixed with luck washed over me, for the remaining bird’s nest was not a true nest!

If I guessed correctly, it was an abandoned nest, somehow taken over by the wild bees but still retaining its shape. I broke out in a cold sweat, realizing my earlier struggle with the bird had disturbed the bees when I fell.

Naturally, they were seeking a target. Seeing more and more wild bees appear in the sky, I was utterly terrified. If this entire swarm attacked me, death by stings was entirely possible.

In the tropical rainforest, these large yellow-brown wild bees were said to be highly venomous; not only humans but even large bears and elephants might struggle to escape their poison. I watched them cautiously, barely daring to move.

But I knew staying was suicidal. So I began to slowly slide down, carefully watching them. I knew if I kept still, they might not focus on me immediately. When I reached the foot of the tree, I wasted no time and stealthily, quickly dashed toward the riverbank.

I was certain the distance from this great tree to the river was no more than forty meters. Once I decided to run, I unleashed my full strength, not even glancing back at the swarm, sprinting forward with all my might.

The buzzing around my ears felt like the roar of approaching fighter jets, but I dared not hesitate. I had to reach the water as fast as possible to evade this suffocating swarm.

When I submerged myself, I felt incredibly fortunate. Though my breath-holding ability was limited, I forced myself to stay underwater, hoping the water would wash away my scent and make the bees give up.

I didn’t care if I risked choking; when I could no longer hold my breath, I shot my head above the surface with a sharp gasp, frantically waving my hands to drive off any bees nearby. I breathed greedily, trying to recover my senses and awareness.

The irony was that the swarm did indeed leave, but I felt a burning pain in my right arm. Looking down, I saw a coin-sized swelling, the pain indescribable. I knew I had been lucky, but I had still been stung.