In the early hours, all is silent.
Deep mountain forest behind Cui Valley Sanatorium.
The night has not fully retired, and only a very faint gray-white streak emerges at the horizon's edge.
The whole forest is immersed in the thin mist unique to a summer morning.
Only the occasional crisp birdsong echoes far off in the moist air.
Suddenly, a faint rustling sound comes from the bushes.
A robust wild boar halts its action of rooting soil, its nose twitching, sniffing the strange scent in the air.
Its throat suppresses a cautious low growl as it raises its head.
Those eyes, glowing faintly in the dark, stare intently at a century-old oak tree dozens of meters ahead.
There stands a human silhouette.
Bare-chested, suspended more than ten meters above the ground.
Hands gripping a horizontally growing branch, doing pull-ups on the tree.
No use of waist or abdominal swinging inertia, solely relying on the absolute strength of the back and arms.
