Li Yuan floated in a deepening silence.
The water around him no longer moved like an ordinary fluid. Every current, every small vortex, every change in pressure—all spoke in a language he was beginning to understand.
But what made him uneasy wasn't the water outside of him.
What made him uneasy was the question that continued to echo in his mind: Who is the real Li Yuan?
For eleven thousand years, he had built up layers of identity. Li Yuan the strange village boy. Li Yuan the Qinglong Academy student. Li Yuan the founder of the Daojing. Li Yuan the guardian of five million souls. Li Yuan the singular anomaly.
Each identity was like a piece of clothing he wore to face the world. But water taught something different.
Water never wears a mask.
Li Yuan closed his eyes and let his consciousness sink deeper into his Comprehension of Water. In the Ganjing realm, he had only felt water as an inner state—softness, coolness, tranquility.
But now, he began to feel something deeper than just a feeling.
Something was shifting.
His Comprehension of Water vibrated with a frequency he had never felt before. Not a chaotic vibration like when his Zhenjing was cracked, but a vibration of... growth.
Like a sprout breaking through hard ground to reach the light.
But this growth demanded something he was not easily giving: total acceptance of who he was without embellishments, without achievements, without spiritual pride.
I am Li Yuan who is afraid.
The confession emerged from the depths of his being like an air bubble rising to the surface. Simple, yet it shook the foundation of all the identities he had built.
Afraid of losing the people he loved—like what happened with the family in Millbrook. Afraid of the consequences of his power—like when his resonance changed five million souls. Afraid of making mistakes—like when he couldn't save everyone on the ship.
All this time, he had hidden that fear behind the Comprehension of Fear that he had mastered. As if understanding fear meant he was no longer afraid.
But water taught a different kind of honesty.
Water doesn't hide the fact that it's wet. Water isn't ashamed that it flows downward. Water accepts its nature without ever hoping to be fire or air.
I am Li Yuan who is doubtful.
The second confession came more easily. Despite having the Comprehension of Doubt, despite having spent thousands of years in cultivation, he still doubted many things.
Did he make the right decision when he descended to the world as a human? Was the way he handled the Sea of Souls correct? Did he truly understand the Dao, or just think he did?
Doubt is not a sign of spiritual failure. Doubt is a sign that he is still alive, still growing, still open to learning.
Water is never sure of the form it will take tomorrow. But water is not anxious because of that uncertainty. Water flows while accepting uncertainty as part of the journey.
I am Li Yuan who is tired.
The third confession came with a deep sense of pain. Tired of the responsibility he never asked for. Tired of always having to be the strong one, the wise one, the one with the answers.
Even in Millbrook, even though he lived as an ordinary human, there was still a part of him that felt the need to be "the reliable Li Yuan." The one who was always ready to help, who never complained, who never showed weakness.
But water never tries to be anything other than itself. Calm water doesn't feel the need to be a raging wave. Slowly flowing water isn't ashamed of not being as fast as a waterfall.
Tiredness is not a weakness. Tiredness is a sign that I still care, still try, still am human.
Li Yuan felt something strange happening within him. The more he acknowledged his fear, doubt, and tiredness—the more he felt... light.
Not light because the burden was gone, but light because he was no longer spending energy hiding or denying the imperfect parts of himself.
The water around him moved in increasingly familiar patterns. He began to understand that water does not move to achieve something, but moves because moving is how water expresses itself.
Maybe true cultivation is not about becoming perfect. Maybe true cultivation is about becoming whole.
Perfect means without flaws, without shortcomings. But whole means accepting all parts of oneself—the beautiful and the ugly, the strong and the weak, the wise and the foolish.
His Comprehension of Water vibrated with increasing intensity. Li Yuan felt as if he was standing on the edge of a cliff—not a terrifying cliff, but a cliff of transformation.
To step to the other side, he had to let go of his last hold on his old identity.
I am Li Yuan.
Not Li Yuan the founder of the Daojing. Not Li Yuan the guardian of souls. Not Li Yuan the anomaly.
Just Li Yuan. A... what?
For the first time in eleven thousand years, Li Yuan did not have an answer to that question. And strangely, not having an answer felt... liberating.
Like water that doesn't need to know where it will flow. Like water that doesn't need to have a plan about what form it will take tomorrow.
Water just needs to be water.
I just need to be myself.
But who is that self, without all the labels and achievements?
The answer came not as words, but as a feeling that spread throughout his entire body of consciousness.
The self is the consciousness that is capable of loving. That is capable of feeling pain when others suffer. That is capable of feeling joy when seeing Lila's smile. That is capable of feeling peace when sitting in silence.
The self is the capacity to be present. To feel. To care. To change.
The self is not something he owns or achieves. The self is something he experiences, from moment to moment, from breath to breath.
Like water that has no fixed form but is always water, he has no fixed identity but is always a living consciousness.
Li Yuan felt something surprising in his Comprehension of Water.
The vibration changed. From the vibration of "feeling" to a vibration... he didn't know how to name it. It was like a door opening in his consciousness, a door leading to a space he had never entered before.
The water around him no longer just moved in familiar patterns. The water began to... whisper. Not with sound, but with meaning that directly touched his consciousness.
"You are ready," the water whispered. "You have dared to lose the old form to find a deeper essence."
"Ready for what?" Li Yuan asked in his inner silence.
"To hear us speak. To understand the language that has existed since the beginning of time. To enter the realm where you not only feel us, but hear every story we carry from the places we have been."
Li Yuan felt a new vibration in his Comprehension of Water. A different vibration from the Ganjing realm he had known all this time.
He did not know the name for this new realm. In the tradition he had created himself, the realm after Ganjing had no name.
But he felt its essence: If Ganjing was about feeling, then this new realm was about... hearing.
Hearing the stories that the water brought from distant mountains. Hearing the memories stored in every drop. Hearing the universal language that connected all the water in this world.
I will call it... Wenjing, Li Yuan thought. The Realm of Hearing.
The water around him moved in an increasingly complex pattern, as if celebrating the birth of a new understanding in the consciousness of a human who had dared to let go of his old identity to find a deeper essence.
Li Yuan smiled in the absolute darkness of the sea.
The journey toward a deeper understanding never ends. But each step also brings a deeper peace.
A peace that comes from accepting yourself as you are, while remaining open to continuous change and growth.
Like water that is always itself, yet never the same from moment to moment.