In the deep antiquity of the world, during the reign of the sagacious Emperor Yao, a catastrophe of unimaginable proportions struck the Middle Kingdom. This was the era of the Great Flood, a time when the waters did not merely rise from the riverbeds but seemed to descend from the very stars and erupt from the bowels of the earth itself. The Yellow River, the Great Yangtze, and the Huai River all overflowed their banks, merging into a single, vast inland sea that swallowed the plains, the forests, and the foothills of the sacred mountains. The people were forced to flee to the highest peaks, living like animals in caves, or huddling on makeshift rafts that were often shattered by the churning debris of their former civilizations.
Emperor Yao, burdened by the suffering of his subjects, summoned his council of ministers, the Four Mountains, to find a hero capable of taming the wild tides. The ministers recommended Gun, the Count of Chong, a man of noble lineage and great determination. Yao was hesitant, for he perceived a stubbornness in Gun’s character that he feared might lead to disaster, yet the desperation of the times left him with little choice. Gun was appointed to the task of flood control, a mission that would span nine grueling years and define the fate of the Chinese people.
Gun began his work with tireless energy. He observed that the water was relentless and heavy, possessing a weight that crushed ordinary embankments. His initial strategy followed the traditional logic of containment: he gathered thousands of laborers to build massive dykes and earthen dams. He sought to block the water, to force it back into the channels from which it had escaped. For years, the sound of rhythmic pounding filled the air as earth was packed into wooden frames, creating barriers that stretched for miles. But the Great Flood was no ordinary deluge; it was a primordial force. As soon as a dam was completed, the hydrostatic pressure would build until the barrier burst with the sound of a thousand drums, releasing a wall of water that wiped out all the progress Gun had made. The cycle of building and collapsing repeated endlessly, and with each failure, Gun’s heart grew heavier, and his hair turned as white as the foam on the crest of the waves.
In the ninth year of his struggle, Gun realized that mortal materials were insufficient to withstand the divine weight of the flood. He looked toward the Kunlun Mountains, the bridge between the earth and the heavens, and began to contemplate a desperate gamble. He had heard legends of a substance kept in the celestial treasuries of the Emperor of Heaven—a magical substance known as Xirang, or 'Breathing Earth.' This was the self-expanding soil, a tiny grain of which could grow into a mountain in a single breath. It was a primordial element of creation, capable of expanding indefinitely to fill any void or block any tide. Gun knew that the Emperor of Heaven would never willingly part with such a treasure, for it was the foundation of the physical world's stability.
Driven by a profound empathy for the drowning masses and a growing resentment toward the indifferent gods, Gun resolved to commit the ultimate sacrilege. He ascended the celestial ladder, slipping past the guardian spirits of the cloud gates. In the quiet halls of the Heavenly Palace, where time moves differently than on earth, Gun located the jade urn containing the Xirang. It looked like ordinary golden sand, shimmering with a faint, rhythmic pulse—as if it were truly breathing. Gun stole the soil, concealing it within his robes, and fled back to the mortal realm. He did not seek glory for himself; he sought only to end the nightmare that had claimed so many lives.
Upon returning to the banks of the Yellow River, Gun began his work anew, but this time with the power of the gods at his fingertips. He cast a single handful of the Xirang into the roaring torrent. To the amazement of the watching crowds, the soil did not wash away. Instead, it began to swell and multiply. It grew upwards and outwards, forming solid, impenetrable walls that the water could not breach. Wherever Gun placed a grain of Xirang, the land reclaimed itself from the sea. For a brief period, it seemed as though Gun had achieved the impossible. The waters retreated, the marshes dried, and the people began to descend from the mountains to plant their crops once more. Gun was hailed as a savior, but his triumph was built upon a foundation of stolen divinity.