Li Yuan decided to explore Narau Island systematically.
While his Ganjing sensing had given him a general overview of the island, there was no substitute for direct exploration. Furthermore, after four thousand years in the darkness of the deep sea, Li Yuan felt the need to reconnect with the experience of moving through a varied landscape rich with sensory input.
"I'll start from the highest point," Li Yuan decided, gazing at the mountain in the center of the island that he had detected with his sensing.
Li Yuan began his journey towards the center of Narau, moving through a forest that gradually became more dense and lush as he moved inland. The trees here were far more varied than what he had ever encountered in the coastal areas he had visited before.
There were large trees with massive trunks and thick canopies, creating areas of filtered sunlight that produced an almost magical atmosphere. There were cascading vines from branches, creating curtains of green foliage. There were flowers with vibrant colors and rich scents—sensory experiences that were completely absent from the underwater environment.
"Every step is a discovery," Li Yuan murmured as he paused to observe a particularly beautiful orchid growing on the trunk of an ancient tree.
As he continued deeper into the forest, Li Yuan began to encounter wildlife that wasn't shy or frightened by his presence. Deer grazed peacefully in clearings, barely glancing up when he passed. Birds continued singing in the trees above, unperturbed by the ground-level movement below.
"They have never encountered humans," Li Yuan realized. "No fear response, no learned avoidance behaviors."
This observation was both fascinating and a little melancholic. The innocence of wildlife that had never experienced the threat of conscious predators was beautiful, but it was also a reminder of the isolation Li Yuan was experiencing—not just from human society, but from any conscious beings capable of complex interaction.
After several hours of hiking through increasingly steep terrain, Li Yuan reached the base of the mountain that dominated the center of Narau. From close range, he could see that this was not a single peak but a series of connected ridges and smaller peaks, creating a complex topology with multiple valleys, plateaus, and hidden areas.
Li Yuan began his ascent, using a combination of hiking skills he had developed centuries ago and his spiritual abilities that allowed for the easy navigation of challenging terrain.
The higher he climbed, the more spectacular the view became. The forest spread out below in waves of green that extended to coastlines visible in all directions. Li Yuan could see various rivers winding through valleys, sparkling in the sunlight like silver threads woven through a green tapestry.
"Beautiful," Li Yuan said aloud, his voice carrying across the empty mountainside.
When he finally reached the highest accessible peak, the view that greeted him was breathtaking in its scope and beauty.
The entire island of Narau spread out beneath him—thirty kilometers of pristine wilderness, surrounded by a blue ocean that extended to the horizon in all directions. He could see geological diversity that was remarkable for an island of this size. Rocky cliffs on the northern shores, sandy beaches on the eastern coast, marshy areas where rivers met the sea at the southern tip, and a protected harbor on the western side.
"A complex ecosystem," Li Yuan observed, using his enhanced vision to study the details of the landscape below.
He could see areas that probably experienced different microclimates due to elevation changes and exposure to weather patterns. Valleys that were probably more humid and lush. Ridge tops that were likely drier and more exposed to wind. Coastal areas influenced by ocean temperatures and salt spray.
"This island could support diverse forms of life," Li Yuan noted. "Maybe even small human communities, if they were established here."
That thought triggered a memory of Millbrook—a small community that had thrived in a protected valley, with access to water, arable land, and natural resources. Narau had many of the same advantages, but on a larger scale.
"Maybe," Li Yuan thought experimentally, "I could establish something similar here. Not a permanent settlement, but a temporary base for a transition period."
The idea was appealing in multiple ways. Creating a shelter and basic amenities would give Li Yuan a purposeful activity to occupy his time. Establishing routines of daily life would help him reconnect with the rhythms of normal existence. And having a base of operations would make exploration of the island more systematic and thorough.
Li Yuan spent the remainder of the day on the mountain peak, using a combination of visual observation and extended spiritual sensing to map the geography, resources, and potential sites for temporary habitation.
He identified several promising locations:
An area near a large spring on the eastern slope of the mountain, where fresh water was abundant and the terrain was relatively flat for construction.
A valley in the southern part of the island where a river created a fertile flood plain that might support agriculture if Li Yuan decided to experiment with growing food.
A protected cove on the western coast that would provide access to ocean resources and potential shelter for a boat, should Li Yuan ever decide to attempt travel to the mainland.
"Multiple options, each with different advantages," Li Yuan assessed.
As the sun began to set—the first sunset Li Yuan had witnessed in millennia—he decided to camp on the mountain peak for the night. The experience of sleeping under the stars, feeling the night breezes, and hearing the nocturnal sounds of the forest below would be a valuable part of his readjustment to surface life.
Li Yuan found a sheltered area among the rocks and settled in to watch the sky transition from day to night. The colors gradually shifted from blue to oranges, reds, and purples that painted the sky with a beauty that took Li Yuan's breath away.
"I had forgotten about sunsets," Li Yuan whispered, awed by the display of natural artistry.
As darkness deepened and the stars became visible, Li Yuan experienced a profound sense of place in the cosmos that had been absent during his deep-sea existence. In the ocean depths, there was no sky, no celestial reference points, no sense of the planet's rotation or movement through space.
Here, lying on a mountain peak with the entire sky visible above, Li Yuan could feel a connection to larger astronomical rhythms. The rotation of the earth, the phases of the moon that was just beginning to rise, the movement of the stars across the celestial sphere.
"Integration with natural cycles," Li Yuan remembered from his earlier insights. "This is part of what I was missing in the depths."
The night sounds of the forest below created a symphony of life that was both soothing and energizing. Owl calls, the rustling of nocturnal animals moving through the underbrush, the distant sound of waves meeting the shore—all combined to create an acoustic environment rich with life and activity.
Li Yuan closed his eyes and listened carefully, using his Water Comprehension to detect moisture in the night air, feeling a connection to the water cycle that was fundamental to supporting all life on the island.
"Tomorrow I will begin establishing a temporary home," Li Yuan decided. "Not a permanent settlement, but a place to learn again how to live in harmony with the natural environment, before I am ready to seek human civilization."
With that decision made and the peaceful night sounds surrounding him, Li Yuan allowed himself to drift into a restful sleep under the stars—the first night of sleep in a natural environment he had experienced in four thousand years.
The dreams that came were filled with images of construction, cultivation, and a gradual reconnection with the rhythms of a life that was both grounded in the natural world and open to an eventual return to a human community.