In the ancient days of China, when the world was young and the laws of nature were yet unwritten, the land was plagued by a catastrophe of unimaginable scale. For generations, the heavens had wept without cease, and the earth had groaned under the weight of an endless deluge. The Great Flood was not merely a storm; it was a cosmic imbalance that threatened to erase all traces of human existence. Villages were swallowed by churning brown waters, forests were drowned, and the once-fertile plains became vast, stagnant lakes. The people lived in terror, huddled atop the highest peaks, praying to ancestors and spirits for a reprieve that seemed never to come.
Among the leaders of the time, many had attempted to stop the water. Some sought to build towering walls of earth and stone, hoping to block the flood and keep the people dry. However, these walls were futile; the water simply rose higher, eventually breaching the barriers and sweeping away everything in its path with even greater violence. It was then that a man of extraordinary resolve and wisdom named Yu was called upon. Unlike those who came before him, Yu did not seek to fight the water with walls. Instead, he understood that the secret to survival lay in cooperation with the natural flow of the world. His goal was not to stop the water, but to guide it—to carve channels and dredge rivers that would lead the floodwaters away from the inhabited lands and safely into the vast Eastern Sea.
Yu's journey was one of extreme hardship. For thirteen years, he wandered the land, surveying the terrain and mapping the currents. He spent his days in the mud and his nights in the wind, often forgetting the warmth of his own home. Legend says that he passed by his own front door three times but never entered, for his devotion to the people was so absolute that he could not bring himself to rest while the world was still drowning. Yet, as he worked to divert the rivers, he encountered a barrier that defied all human effort: the stubborn mountains of Mount Tu. These peaks were not mere rock; they were ancient, sentient spirits of the earth, hard as diamond and rooted deep in the core of the world. They stood as a wall of granite and obsidian, blocking the primary artery that would have drained the central plains.
For months, Yu and his legions of workers attempted to carve through Mount Tu. They used the finest bronze chisels and the heaviest hammers, but the mountain did not yield. The rock shattered the tools, and the slopes remained impassable. The waters began to pile up behind the mountain, creating a lake of such immense pressure that it threatened to burst and wipe out the few remaining settlements in the valley. Yu realized that human strength, no matter how collective, was insufficient to move the stubborn heart of the mountain. He knew that to save the people, he would need to transcend his human form and tap into the primordial power of the earth itself.
In a moment of deep meditation and spiritual communion, Yu called upon the ancient spirits of the forest and the cave. He sought the strength of the bear—the creature of the mountains, the master of the brush and the boulder. Through an act of divine will and cosmic alignment, Yu's body began to change. His skin thickened into a dense, mahogany-colored fur; his fingers grew into massive, curved claws of obsidian; and his frame expanded until he towered over the trees. He had become a giant bear, a titan of the wild, possessing a strength that could shake the foundations of the earth.
In this form, Yu did not use tools. He used his own body as the instrument of creation. With a roar that echoed across the provinces, he struck the slopes of Mount Tu. Each swipe of his massive claws tore through the granite as if it were soft clay. He dug deep trenches, carving wide, sweeping arcs into the mountain's side. The earth flew in great clods, and the sound of the rock splitting was like thunder rolling through a clear sky. He worked without sleep, driven by a singular purpose. He tunneled through the narrowest passes and widened the gorges, turning the stubborn mountain into a series of gateways for the water.