Ren Zu stood in the center of the hidden valley, the echoes of his miraculous transformation still vibrating in the air.
Only moments ago, he had been a skeleton wrapped in parchment-thin skin, a creature of dust and decay wheezing for his final breath. He had been a beggar at the door of death, pleading for a single drop of time. But now, the beggar was gone, incinerated by the golden fire of the Eighty-Year Longevity Gu.
In his place stood a god.
Ren Zu looked down at his own body. He flexed his fingers, watching the tendons ripple beneath skin that was as smooth and flawless as polished white jade. He touched his chest, feeling the pectorals that were hard as iron plates. He ran a hand through his hair, which had transformed from a sparse, gray wisp into a cascading waterfall of ink-black silk that reached his waist, shining with a luster that seemed to absorb the sunlight.
He took a deep breath. Inhale.
The air rushed into his lungs without obstruction, filling a chest cavity that had expanded to hold the breath of a storm. The wheezing rattle was gone, replaced by the silent, powerful hum of a perfect biological machine.
Thump-thump. Thump-thump.
His heart beat against his ribs like a war drum. It was a rhythm of violence and vitality. Every beat sent a surge of hot, thick blood rushing through his veins, washing away the cold lethargy of old age. The sensation was intoxicating. It was a drug more potent than any wine. It was the raw, unfiltered essence of Youth.
Ren Zu clenched his fists, feeling a strength that made him want to roar. He felt as though he could punch a hole in the azure sky. He felt as though he could stomp his foot and shatter the mountain range. The fear that had plagued him for decades—the fear of the Predicaments, the fear of the cold night, the fear of the end—evaporated like mist under the morning sun.
"I am alive," Ren Zu whispered, his voice vibrating in his chest.
Then, he threw his head back and laughed.
"I am alive!"
His laughter rang out, clear and strong, shaking the leaves of the Time Tree. It was not the relief of a survivor; it was the arrogance of a conqueror.
He looked down at his palms. Hovering there, bathed in their own ethereal radiance, were the two architects of his salvation.
On the left, the black, silent cube of Regulation Gu.
On the right, the white, spinning sphere of Rules Gu.
They were the tools that had strangled the River of Time. They were the weapons that had forced the Great Dao to yield. And now, they belonged to him.
Ren Zu's eyes burned with a fire that was brighter than the sun. It was the fire of Ambition.
"I have regained my youth," Ren Zu said, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper as he addressed the insects. "I have defeated the cycle of life and death! I have stolen eighty years from heaven!"
But as the euphoria settled, the human heart—that eternal abyss which can never be filled—began to calculate.
"Eighty years," Ren Zu muttered, his brow furrowing slightly. "I have bought eighty years. It seems like an eternity... but is it? The sun rises and sets. The moon waxes and wanes. Eighty years will pass in the blink of an eye. It will slip through my fingers just like my first youth did."
He remembered the terror of the darkness in the cave. He remembered the cold. He remembered the helplessness.
"I can never go back to that," Ren Zu decided, a cold sweat breaking out on his perfect skin despite the warmth of the sun. "I must never be old again. Eighty years is not enough. Eight hundred years is not enough!"
A greedy smile, sharp and hungry, spread across his handsome face. He looked at the vast emptiness of the valley where the invisible Time River flowed.
"Why stop at one?" Ren Zu asked the air. "If the net works once, it will work a thousand times. If I catch ten Longevity Gu, I will have eight hundred years. If I catch a hundred, I will have eight thousand years! I can pile them up into a mountain of time! I can store them in my aperture and swallow them one by one, forever!"
He looked at the two Gu worms with the gaze of a tyrant commanding his slaves. He forgot the humility of the dying man. He forgot the darkness. He only felt the power.
"Go!" Ren Zu commanded, his voice booming with absolute authority. He thrust his hands forward, expecting the lights to shoot out. "I order you! Cast the Net of Law again! Catch me another Longevity Gu. Catch them all! I wish to store them so I never have to fear death again! I will be Eternal!"
He waited for the flash of black and white light. He waited for the space to warp and the boundaries to descend.
However, the universe did not respond.
The two Gu worms did not move.
They did not fly into the sky. They did not expand into a net. They hovered in his palms, heavy and inert like lead weights. Their lights, which had been warm and inviting a moment ago, flickered and turned unnervingly cold.
The atmosphere in the valley dropped instantly. The birds stopped singing. The wind stopped blowing. The joy of rebirth was replaced by a sudden, oppressive chill that seeped into Ren Zu's bones.
"Why do you not move?" Ren Zu demanded, his brow furrowing in confusion. "I possess your names! I am your master! Obey me!"
"Human," Rules Gu spoke.
Its voice was no longer the helpful whisper that had guided him down the mountain cliffs. It was spinning with mechanical, unfeeling logic. It sounded like the grinding of gears in a clock that cannot be stopped or turned back.
"You have deeply misunderstood our relationship," Rules Gu stated, its white light pulsing with a rhythm of mathematical precision. "Although you subdued us by guessing our names, you must understand our nature. We are not slaves. We are not dogs that fetch a stick."
"We are Principles," Rules Gu declared. "We do not serve a master's whim; we serve the logic of the world."
Regulation Gu chimed in. Its voice was heavy, rigid, and vibrated with the density of a collapsed star. It felt like a judge reading a death sentence.
"Every time you command us," Regulation Gu rumbled, "it is not merely an action. It is a Legislation. You are the First Human, and you hold the First Law. Therefore, every order you give creates a precedent. It adds a Rule and a Regulation to the fabric of reality."
Ren Zu frowned, his arrogance faltering in the face of their cold demeanor. "A precedent? What do you mean?"
"It is simple," Rules Gu explained, spinning faster. "To do something once is an event. To do it twice is a pattern. To do it by command of the Law is a Statute. When we caught the Longevity Gu for you, that was your first order. That action is now recorded in the Great Dao."
The black cube of Regulation Gu pulsed with a solemn, final light. "Therefore, the new regulation is established and etched into the world: We will not repeatedly catch the same Gu for you."
Ren Zu's smile froze on his face. The cold realization struck him harder than any physical blow from a Predicament.
"What?" Ren Zu gasped. "You refuse? You dare to refuse?"
"We do not refuse," Rules Gu corrected, its tone devoid of emotion. "We obey. We obey the law that you created by using us. The law prevents redundancy. Order requires categorization, not duplication."
Rules Gu continued, its voice weaving a web of logic that Ren Zu could not tear. "If a rule is made, it applies to everyone, even the law-maker. Especially the law-maker. If you could catch Longevity endlessly, time would lose its meaning. Value comes from scarcity. If gold were as common as mud, it would be worthless. If life were infinite, it would be stagnant. We are the engines of Order, not the mills of chaos. We cannot break the balance we create."
"If we catch the same thing over and over," Regulation Gu rumbled, "then there is no limit. And where there is no limit, there is no Regulation. A wall that stretches forever is not a room; it is a void."
Ren Zu stood paralyzed.
He looked at the perfect body he had just regained. A moment ago, he had thought he was the Master of the World. He thought he held the ultimate cheat code to existence. He thought he could exploit the system to become a god.
He realized now, with a sinking horror, that Rules and Regulations were not infinite genies who granted wishes. They were a system of restriction. They were a cage made of logic.
When he used them to trap the Longevity Gu, he had also trapped himself.
By establishing the rule "Catch Longevity Gu," he had simultaneously established the limit "This action is now completed."
Ren Zu's heart sank into the pit of his stomach. The fantasy of an eternal stockpile of life crumbled into dust. He looked at the eighty years he had gained. Suddenly, they did not feel like a treasure trove; they felt like an hourglass that had already begun to drain.
He opened his mouth to argue, to plead, to threaten. But he closed it again.
He could not argue with logic. He could not fight a concept. You cannot debate with gravity; you can only fall.
He had no choice but to accept.
"I understand," Ren Zu nodded slowly, the fire of ambition dimming in his eyes, replaced by a cold, calculating glimmer. "I cannot act endlessly. I must choose more calmly."
He tightened his grip on the two Gu worms.
"I must act... strategically."