The next morning came with a thick fog—the kind of fog that makes everything feel like a world separated from reality. Li Yuan stood at the edge of the pier, looking at the sea that was barely visible behind the thick white curtain.
But through his Comprehension of Water, he could "see" what the eyes could not—how the fog was suspended water vapor, how it moved with patterns that reflected the wind currents and temperature differences. And behind the fog, he could feel the restless sea—a vibration that indicated the storm was already beginning to build its strength, still distant but inevitable.
One and a half more days. Maybe less.
"You've been here long?"
Li Yuan turned to find Yara walking closer, carrying two steaming mugs of something—tea or soup, he couldn't tell in this fog.
"A few hours," he answered simply.
Yara offered him one mug. "You need to eat. Or at least pretend to eat so people don't start asking why this strange wanderer never sleeps or eats properly."
Li Yuan smiled thinly and took the mug—fish soup, it turned out, with a strong aroma of spices. "Thank you."
They stood side by side in silence for a moment, listening to the sound of the waves muted by the fog.
"I talked to some fishermen this morning," Yara finally said. "Spreading the word as you instructed—that there are shifted reefs on the western route after the small storm last week. And that the currents on the eastern route are unusually strong because of the new moon's tide."
"How did they respond?"
"Skeptical at first. But I added details—specific place names, descriptions that were technical enough to sound credible. And most importantly..." Yara paused for a moment, looking into her soup. "I said I heard it from a fisherman who survived that route last week. A man who almost lost his ship."
When she said this, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm something in her intention—a slight discomfort with the lie, but also a determination that overcame the moral doubt.
"That's good," Li Yuan said calmly. "News like that will spread. And if some other merchants or fishermen confirm it—even if they're just repeating what they heard—it will start to sound like an accepted truth."
"And Hakeem's spies will hear it," Yara continued, understanding where this was going. "They always have spies on the islands—people paid to report anything unusual."
"Yes. And they will report that the western and eastern routes are dangerous. Which will make the middle route look like the safest option."
Yara nodded slowly, then asked in a lower voice, "And that is a trap."
"Yes."
Silence fell between them again—heavier this time, carrying the weight of what they were planning.
"Li Yuan," Yara finally spoke, her voice almost a whisper. "How many of those people are truly evil? I mean... you said yesterday that some are former fishermen, former merchants who lost everything. People forced into this life by desperation."
When she asked this, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm a genuine moral conflict—Yara was not trying to stop the plan, but she was wrestling with the consequences. With the reality that hundreds of people would die, and not all of them were monsters.
Li Yuan looked into the fog, choosing his words carefully.
"Of the five to seven hundred people in Hakeem's fleet, perhaps a hundred are true predators—people who enjoy the power, who choose violence even when there are other options. Two hundred more are people who have become hardened by the years in this life—they may have started out of desperation, but now they can no longer imagine another life."
He paused for a moment, letting the numbers sink in.
"And the rest... the rest are trapped people. Some were recruited by force. Some joined because their families were starving and this was the only way to feed them. Some still have a conscience that bothers them every night."
"But," he continued in a voice that became harder, colder, "they all made a choice. Even those who are trapped, even those who are desperate—they chose to survive by taking from others who are just as desperate. They chose to be part of a system that steals children from their mothers."
"And that choice has consequences."
Yara looked at him with searching eyes—looking for reassurance, perhaps, or justification. "So you don't feel... you don't feel like we'll be killing innocent people?"
"Guilty and innocent," Li Yuan said in a tone that carried the weight of thousands of years of moral reflection, "are rarely perfectly black and white. Most people live in shades of gray—making choices that are sometimes good and sometimes bad, often under pressure that makes virtue a luxury."
He turned to look at Yara directly.
"But there is a line. And that line is: you do not take children. You do not build your life on the systematic suffering of those who cannot fight back. And when you cross that line—whether it's out of desperation or ambition or just because you stopped caring—you accept the risk that someone, someday, will say enough."
"And I," he added with absolute finality, "am saying enough."
Yara looked at him in a long silence. Then she nodded slowly, something that looked like resolve hardening in her expression.
"Alright. Then what's the next step?"
They spent that morning moving through the city—not together, but separately, to not draw attention. Li Yuan talked to merchants in the market, to the carpenter repairing the docks, to the children playing in the street corners even though their parents told them to stay inside.
To each person, he delivered the same message—with enough variation to sound natural, but the same core:
"I hear the western route is dangerous now. The reefs have shifted."
"My fisherman friend says the currents on the eastern route are unusually strong."
"Maybe the middle route will be safer this month."
Simple words. Casual observations. Nothing that sounded like an agenda or manipulation.
But through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan could hear how the words were absorbed, processed, and then repeated. How they spread from one person to another, gathering a weight of credibility with each repetition.
Like small cracks in a stone, he mused as he listened to the gossip spreading through the market. One crack is not enough to break a stone. But many small cracks, placed with precision, will make the stone brittle. And when the right pressure is applied...
By midday, he met with Jelani again—the old fisherman who had become their most valuable source of information.
"The news has spread," Jelani said in a low voice, his eyes constantly scanning around them to make sure no one was listening. "Some of the merchants who usually pay Hakeem's spies have already started talking about the dangerous routes. They will report it."
"Good," Li Yuan said. "And the scout ships? Do they usually come first?"
"Yes. Two or three small ships, usually arriving a day before the main fleet. They check the situation—make sure there are no planned rebellions, no foreign military ships in the area."
"And if they find something suspicious?"
"They will send a signal—a flag or smoke—to warn the main fleet. Hakeem would change his plan, maybe delay the arrival or take a different route."
Li Yuan nodded, already having considered this in his calculations. "Then we need to make sure the scout ships find nothing suspicious. The island must look as usual—scared, obedient, waiting to pay tribute."
Jelani looked at him with eyes full of questions he didn't dare ask. But through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard what the old man wanted to know:
What exactly are you planning, wanderer? And will I regret helping you?
But Jelani didn't ask out loud. He just nodded and said, "I will make sure people know to act normal. To not show anything unusual."
"Thank you," Li Yuan said with sincere simplicity. "What you're doing—helping plan this—takes courage."
Jelani looked at him with a complex expression. "Or desperation. Or stupidity. I don't know which is true." He sighed deeply. "But I have a granddaughter who was taken three years ago. A small girl of ten. And if there's a chance—even a small chance—that what you're planning will stop this, will bring her back..."
His voice broke. He didn't finish the sentence.
Li Yuan looked at him with an understanding that needed no words. "I will do my best to save the hostages. That is the priority—not just to destroy the fleet, but to ensure the innocent ones get out safely."
Jelani nodded, blinking something from his eyes, and turned to leave.
And Li Yuan stood alone on the pier, feeling the weight of how many people now depended on this plan. How much hope he had ignited—a hope that could turn into a bigger tragedy if something went wrong.
There is no turning back now, he mused with calm acceptance. The cracks have been made. The words have been spread. And the storm is coming—with or without my consent.
All that's left is to make sure every piece falls into the right place.
That afternoon, as the fog began to lift and the sky was revealed—gray and heavy with accumulating clouds—Li Yuan and Yara met on a deserted beach.
"The scout ships will come tomorrow morning," Yara said without preamble. "Jelani confirmed it—he heard from a merchant who has contact with Hakeem's spies."
Li Yuan nodded. This aligned with the timeline he had calculated.
"Then tomorrow is the critical day. The scout ships must see an island that looks normal—scared but obedient. They must hear the news about the dangerous routes and report it back as useful information, not as a manipulation."
"And if they get suspicious?" Yara asked.
"Then the plan fails before it starts." Li Yuan looked at the horizon where the clouds were getting darker. "But I don't think they will be suspicious. Why would they be? They have been coming to this island every month for ten years. They have seen the same people—scared, obedient, never rebellious after Mahara."
"They're not looking for a trap because they've never found a trap before."
Yara looked at him with an expression that was a mix of admiration and something darker. "You talk like someone who has planned a war before."
Li Yuan didn't answer immediately. Because how could he explain that in fifteen thousand years, he had seen—and sometimes participated in—more conflicts than he could count? That he had learned strategy not from books but from bitter experience?
"I have lived long enough," he finally said simply, "to understand patterns. And war—whether with swords or with manipulation—always follows the same pattern."
Yara looked at him with eyes that were trying to read something she couldn't fully comprehend. "Who are you really, Li Yuan? You talk like an old man who has seen everything, but you look no more than thirty years old."
Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard a genuine curiosity in her intention—not hostile suspicion, but a desire to understand the person who had become... not a friend, not yet, but a partner she trusted with the most important mission of her life.
"I am a wanderer," Li Yuan answered with partial honesty. "Someone who has walked long enough to learn a few lessons. No more than that."
"I don't believe that," Yara said in a blunt but not accusatory tone. "But I won't force it either. Everyone has their secrets."
She looked back at the sea, at the clouds that were getting more and more threatening.
"What's important is that you're here. And that you're willing to do this—for people who are not your family, for an island that is not your home."
"Why?" she asked, suddenly turning to look at Li Yuan. "Why do you care? You could have sailed with Deni's ship. You could have continued your journey south, following your mysterious 'call'. But you stayed. You're taking this risk. Why?"
When she asked this, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm that this was not just casual curiosity. This was an important question for Yara—maybe because she needed to know that Li Yuan wouldn't abandon this plan halfway, or maybe because of something more personal.
Li Yuan looked at his hands—hands that had existed for fifteen thousand years, that had witnessed so much suffering that could have been prevented if someone had only been willing to act.
"Because I have walked around too many situations like this," he finally said. "I have seen oppressive systems continue because good people chose not to get involved. And every time, I told myself that it wasn't my responsibility, that I was just an observer, that intervention would create bigger problems."
"And sometimes that's true. Sometimes non-intervention is the wise choice."
He looked back at Yara with eyes that carried a weight he couldn't fully hide.
"But sometimes, it's just a justification for cowardice. And I... I'm tired of being a coward."
Yara looked at him in a long silence. Then, in a soft but firm voice:
"You are not a coward, Li Yuan. Whatever you think you have done or not done in the past—what you are doing now takes a courage that most people don't have."
Li Yuan smiled—a sad and small smile. "Or stupidity."
"Maybe," Yara admitted with a small smile of her own. "But if so, I'm glad we're both stupid together."
They stood side by side, watching the clouds that continued to grow on the horizon—a clear sign that the storm was no longer possible but certain.
And in that silence, Li Yuan felt something he rarely felt—a connection with someone who was not just a person he was observing or helping, but a true partner. Someone who was standing at the edge of the same abyss, who made the same choice to jump into uncertainty.
Tomorrow, he mused with a cold certainty. Tomorrow the scout ships come. They will see a normal island. They will hear the news about the dangerous routes. And they will report back that the middle route is the safest.
And then, the day after, the fleet will come. And the storm.
And the water will freeze.
There is no turning back now. The cracks have been made in the stone. All that's left is to wait until the right pressure is applied.
And the stone will break.