Ren Zu crouched low in the center of the valley, his body pressing into the earth. The soil beneath his boots groaned under the supernatural weight of the Strength Gu resting on his shoulder.
He was like a compressed spring, a mechanism of flesh and bronze waiting for the trigger. His heart pounded—not with the frantic rhythm of fear, but with the heavy, calculated thud of a hunter who knows he has only one bullet.
He stared at the Net of Law in his hands. It trembled violently. The three spirits inside were banging against the mesh of Regulation, desperate to return to the wild. They were the primal forces of the human psyche, and they resented being caged by cold logic.
"I have lost Wisdom," Ren Zu reminded himself, his grip tightening on the drawstring. "I have lost the ten thousand abilities. I cannot afford to lose these three. If I come away from this empty-handed, I am nothing but a brute with a heavy burden."
He took a breath. The air was still. The world seemed to hold its breath.
"Go!" Ren Zu roared, his voice shattering the silence.
With a sharp, decisive motion, he yanked the drawstring of the net completely open.
Whoosh!
The sound was like a sudden vacuum collapsing. It was not merely the sound of movement; it was the sound of concepts escaping reality.
The three Gu worms exploded out of the net. They did not move like insects; they moved like streaks of destiny, each following the inherent Dao of its existence. They were faster than arrows, faster than wind, moving with the speed of thought itself.
Ren Zu's eyes, sharpened by the experiences of his journey, tried to track them all at once.
The First was Belief Gu.
It shot straight up.
It was a dazzling speck of pure, unadulterated white light. It did not hesitate. It did not waver. It flew with a terrifying, singular purpose towards the sun.
As it ascended, it grew brighter and brighter, merging with the glare of the heavens. It sought the ultimate height. It sought the place where shadows could not exist.
Ren Zu looked up, squinting against the blinding radiance. He felt a sudden, irrational tug in his soul—a desire to fall to his knees, to close his eyes, to let the light wash over him and erase his worries.
But as he watched it disappear into the azure sky, a profound realization struck him.
"Belief is like the sun," Ren Zu realized with a pang of sorrow. "It is warm. It is comforting. It gives life to everything it touches. But... it is too high."
He saw that as Belief Gu flew higher, it became smaller, more distant.
"To chase Belief is to chase the heavens," Ren Zu thought. "It is blind to the ground below. The sun does not see the dirt, the rot, or the struggle of the ants. Belief is beautiful, but it is detached. If I chase it, I will have to leave the earth behind. I will have to burn my eyes to look at it. And I cannot fly."
He knew, with the crushing reality of gravity, that he could never jump high enough to catch a star.
The Second was Suspicion Gu.
It shot straight down.
It was the polar opposite of Belief. It was a frantic, shadowy spider, dripping with cold ink and smelling of wet iron. It did not seek the majesty of the sky; it feared exposure. It hated the light.
It dove straight into the soil at Ren Zu's feet. Its legs blurred as it dug, liquefying the earth upon contact. In a split second, it vanished into the cracks, seeking the safety of the dark, damp abyss where the roots of the world twisted in silence.
Ren Zu looked down, seeing the dirt fly and the hole seal up behind it. He felt a chill run up his spine, a whisper of paranoia telling him that enemies were everywhere, that the ground itself was unsafe.
"Suspicion is like the roots," Ren Zu realized, his skin crawling. "It is deep. It is foundational. It anchors the tree so it does not fall. But it is cold. It lives in the dark where no light can reach."
"To chase Suspicion," he mused, "is to dig into an endless abyss. It is to constantly turn over rocks to see the worms underneath. It is to live in the dirt, always looking for the rot, always finding the flaw. It protects you from lies, yes, but it buries you in isolation. I am a man of the surface. I cannot breathe in the dirt."
Ren Zu did not chase the sky, for he was heavy with Strength.
Ren Zu did not dig into the ground, for he was not a worm.
He had missed the Divine and the Demonic.
He had missed the Blind Faith and the Paralyzing Doubt.
He locked his gaze straight ahead.
The Third was Attitude Gu.
It did not fly to the impossible heavens, nor did it burrow into the depressing abyss.
It flew with the wind.
It was the most elusive, the most chaotic, and the most deceptive of the three. It bobbed and weaved through the air, erratic and unpredictable.
One moment it turned lush green to blend with the leaves of the forest.
The next moment it turned rugged gray to mimic the face of a cliff.
Then, it turned transparent, trying to become the air itself.
It was trying to deceive his eyes. It was trying to fit in. It was trying to become whatever the environment demanded it to be.
"There!" Ren Zu shouted.
He lunged forward.
This was not the clumsy stumble of an old man, nor the reckless leap of a youth. This was the calculated explosion of a Middle-Aged Man possessed of Strength.
The Strength Gu on his shoulder flared with a bronze halo. It poured energy into Ren Zu's thighs and calves. The muscles swelled, tearing his trousers.
BOOM!
Ren Zu kicked off the ground. The earth exploded behind him, leaving a crater. He propelled himself through the air like a fired arrow, his body tearing through the wind resistance.
He became a blur.
He ignored the blinding sun of Belief that tempted him to look up.
He ignored the dark shadows of Suspicion that tempted him to look down.
He focused entirely on the shifting, shimmering distortion right in front of him.
The Attitude Gu sensed him coming. It panicked. It tried to juke left, twisting its body into the shape of a frightening tiger to scare him.
Ren Zu did not flinch. He knew it was a mask.
It tried to juke right, twisting its body into the shape of a beautiful flower to charm him.
Ren Zu did not pause. He knew it was a disguise.
He reached out with a hand that was calloused, scarred, and strong enough to crush boulders. His fingers hooked into claws.
He anticipated the wind. He predicted the shift.
His hand clamped down on the empty air—or what appeared to be empty air.
Snap.
The sound of his hand closing was like a whip cracking.
He felt something solid, slippery, and warm squirming in his grip.
Ren Zu skidded to a halt. His heels carved deep trenches into the soil, tearing up the grass for ten meters before he stopped. Dust billowed around his feet like a storm cloud, obscuring his legs.
He stood breathing heavily. His chest heaved like a bellows. Sweat dripped from his forehead, stinging his eyes.
He slowly, carefully, turned his fist over. He peeled back his fingers one by one.
Sitting there, trapped in the cage of his bronze fingers, was a strange, fluid creature. It was unable to escape the absolute grip of Strength.
It changed its shape constantly.
It smiled like a friend.
It frowned like a judge.
It snarled like a beast.
It wept like a widow.
It was the Attitude Gu.
Ren Zu let out a long breath, his shoulders sagging with relief. He looked up at the empty sky where Belief had vanished into the glare. He looked down at the dark earth where Suspicion had hidden in the gloom.
He had missed them. He had failed to catch the comfort of Trust and the safety of Doubt.
But as he looked at the shifting creature in his hand, a realization struck him—a profound truth that would echo through human history and govern the interactions of all souls to come.
"I see," Ren Zu whispered, his voice hoarse with epiphany. "It does not matter if I missed the others."
He understood the relationship between the three brothers.
Attitude is the bridge.
If you have a good, warm Attitude, it shines like a beacon. Eventually, Belief will notice. It will come down from the high heavens to land on you, basking in your warmth. You do not need to chase Belief; you attract it with your Attitude.
If you have a bad, cold, or secretive Attitude, it casts a shadow. Eventually, Suspicion will notice. It will crawl out of the damp ground to bite you, drawn to your darkness. You do not need to dig for Suspicion; you invite it with your Attitude.
Attitude was the face one showed the world. It was the net that could eventually capture both Faith and Doubt. Whether you are believed or suspected is secondary; your Attitude is the primary cause.
Ren Zu clenched his fist again, securing his prize.
He had lost Wisdom, and he was a fool for it.
But he had gained Strength, making him powerful.
And now he had gained Attitude, making him adaptable.
With these tools—the Power to act and the Mask to present—the first human prepared to face the world once more.