Dawn came with a heavy sky—thick clouds that hung low, a color of threatening gray that had not yet released rain. The wind began to blow in an irregular pattern, carrying a stronger scent of the sea than usual.
Li Yuan stood at the edge of the pier, looking at the northern horizon. And through his Comprehension of Water, he could feel the pressure that was continuously dropping, the temperature shifting in a way that could only mean one thing: a major storm was imminent. Not today, but tomorrow. Maybe tonight if it moved faster than predicted.
He heard footsteps behind him—a familiar pattern. Yara.
"They're coming," he said without turning. "Three small ships. I can see their sails in the distance."
Yara stood beside him, her eyes squinting to see what Li Yuan already knew was there. After a few minutes, she too could see them—three white dots on the horizon, slowly growing larger.
"Hakeem's scout ships," she whispered. Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard the mounting tension in her intention—not fear, but a sharp anticipation. This was the first moment where their plan would be tested.
"Remember," Li Yuan said in a calm but firm voice, "the island must look normal. Scared, but obedient. Nothing suspicious. Nothing that suggests we're planning anything."
"I understand," Yara replied. Then, after a pause: "And you? What will you do?"
"I will observe. Listen." Li Yuan looked at her with eyes that carried the weight of experience. "And make sure the right information reaches the right ears."
The scout ships docked at the pier about an hour later. Three small but fast ships, each with a crew of about ten men—enough to do an assessment but not enough to fight if there was serious resistance.
Their leader—a man in his forties with a scar that ran across his face and sharp, wary eyes—stepped down from the ship with an efficient motion. His name, Li Yuan would find out later, was Rashid.
The residents who saw their arrival immediately recoiled—not running in a panic, but moving with a speed that showed a controlled fear. Shops began to close their doors. Children were pulled inside homes. The streets that were already quiet became like a ghost town.
Perfect, Li Yuan observed from his inconspicuous position in a corner of the market. The right response—scared enough to look authentic, but not panicked enough to look like they're hiding something.
Rashid walked through the market with a relaxed gait but with eyes that never stopped moving—assessing, looking for signs of trouble. Two of his men followed behind, their hands not far from the weapons at their waists.
They stopped at the same tavern where Li Yuan had spoken with the owner a few days ago—the tired middle-aged man whose name was Tariq.
Li Yuan couldn't hear the conversation from his distance with his ordinary ears. But through his Wenjing Realm, when Rashid stood close enough to Tariq to talk—within a five-centimeter radius—Li Yuan could hear the intention behind their words.
Rashid asked the standard questions: had any military ships been sighted? Was any rebellion being planned? Was the tribute ready to be collected?
And Tariq answered in a trembling voice—a tremor that was not entirely faked because the fear of these pirates was real. Yes, the tribute was ready. No, there were no military ships. No, no one dared to plan a rebellion after what happened on Mahara.
Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard Tariq's intention—a genuine fear, but also something else. An awareness that he was playing a role, that there was a wanderer somewhere who was planning something. But Rashid couldn't hear intentions—he only heard the words, saw the body language, and both said what he expected to see.
Rashid seemed satisfied. He nodded and turned to continue his inspection.
One hurdle has been passed, Li Yuan mused. But this is just the beginning.
At noon, Rashid and his men gathered in the tavern—a place that was rarely open but whose owner was forced to open when the pirates came. Li Yuan had positioned himself near the tavern, close enough to hear when the conversation turned to the topic he was waiting for.
One of Rashid's men—a young man with tattoos on his arms and a loud voice—spoke while drinking:
"I heard news that the western route is dangerous now. Shifted reefs or something."
Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard the young man's intention—not suspicion, just a repetition of gossip he had heard from merchants in the market.
Rashid turned with narrowed eyes. "Where did you hear that from?"
"A merchant in the market. Said there was a fisherman who almost lost his ship last week. And..." the young man hesitated, "I also heard the currents on the eastern route are unusually strong this month. New moon's tide or something."
Rashid was silent for a moment, processing this information. Through his Wenjing Realm—now that they were talking and he was close enough—Li Yuan heard the pirate leader's intention: a careful evaluation, not immediately believing but also not dismissing useful information.
"Is the middle route still safe?" Rashid asked his other man—an older navigator with a face wrinkled by the sun.
"It should be. No news of problems there." The navigator shrugged. "And the weather..." he looked at the window, at the darkening sky, "the weather might be bad tomorrow. A storm is coming. But if we stick to the middle route and move fast, we can collect the tribute and get back before the storm really hits."
Perfect, Li Yuan mused with a cold satisfaction. They have already made the conclusion I wanted them to make. Not because I forced them, but because I made that choice look like the only sensible one.
Rashid nodded slowly. "Alright. I'll send a signal to Captain Hakeem. The middle route. Tomorrow morning, move fast before the storm gets worse."
He stood up and left the tavern, followed by his men.
And Li Yuan sat in silence, hearing through his Wenjing Realm how that decision resonated—how it would be reported back to the main fleet, how Hakeem would consider and most likely approve the recommendation.
The cracks have been widened, he mused. The stone is getting more brittle. All that's left is to wait for the final pressure.
That afternoon, after the scout ships had sailed back north to report to the main fleet, Li Yuan and Yara met on a deserted beach.
"They believed it," Yara said—not a question, but a statement with clear relief in her voice. "They're taking the middle route."
"Yes," Li Yuan confirmed. "And tomorrow, the fleet will come. Maybe morning, maybe noon, depending on how fast Hakeem wants to move."
"And the storm?"
Li Yuan looked at the sky—at the clouds that now covered the entire horizon, at the wind that was blowing stronger with each passing hour. Through his Comprehension of Water, he could feel the pattern with near-perfect clarity.
"The storm will arrive tonight or early tomorrow morning. But its full force—waves that can sink a ship, winds that can tear sails—that won't come until noon or afternoon."
He turned to look at Yara with eyes that carried the weight of what was to come.
"Which means we have a very narrow window of time. The fleet will arrive in the morning, maybe before the storm looks very threatening. They will begin to collect tribute—a process that usually takes a few hours. And during that time, the storm will continue to build its strength."
"And when they realize the storm is too strong to sail safely..."
"It will be too late," Li Yuan finished with a cold finality. "They will be trapped in open water, on the middle route where there is no protection from islands or reefs. And the sea will claim them."
Yara looked at him with a complex expression—a mix of determination and something akin to fear of what they were doing.
"And the hostages?" she asked in a smaller voice. "Mina, if she's there? The other children?"
"That is the most difficult part," Li Yuan admitted. "When the storm hits, the ships will begin to sink. Some will be stranded on reefs or beaches. We need to move fast—find the ship carrying the hostages and make sure they get out safely before the ship sinks completely."
"How will we know which ship is carrying the hostages?"
"Hakeem's ship—The Conqueror. The largest ship with three masts. That's where he keeps his most valuable 'treasure'." Li Yuan looked at the increasingly restless sea. "And if the storm comes as I expect, that ship will be stranded on the eastern beach of the island—an area with many rocks but also with a small, deep enough bay for a large ship."
"You can know that?" Yara asked with a mix of admiration and suspicion. "How?"
Li Yuan didn't answer immediately. How could he explain that he heard through the water itself—that he understood the currents and winds in a way that went beyond normal prediction? That in fifteen thousand years, he had learned to read the patterns of nature with a precision that was almost supernatural even without using active spiritual power?
"I've seen enough storms," he finally said simply, "to recognize a pattern. And I've studied the currents around this island in enough detail in the last few days."
It didn't completely answer the question, but Yara seemed to accept it. Or maybe she was just too focused on what was to come to press further.
"So our plan is: wait until the storm hits, wait until Hakeem's ship is stranded, then go there and rescue the hostages before the ship sinks completely."
"Yes. And in the meantime, we make sure the islanders stay safe—in a sheltered bay, far from the beaches where the ships will be destroyed."
Yara nodded slowly, then asked in an almost whisper: "And Hakeem himself? If he survives the storm?"
When she asked this, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm more than just words—he heard a desire for vengeance, to see the man who had caused so much suffering face justice. But also a moral doubt: was letting someone die in a storm different from killing him directly?
Li Yuan looked at the increasingly fierce sea with waves that were starting to grow.
"If Hakeem survives the storm," he said in a voice that carried no emotion, "then his fate will be determined by the islands he oppressed. Not by me. Not by you. But by the people who have suffered under his system."
"And if they choose to kill him?"
"Then that is their choice to make. Justice sometimes comes through formal law. Sometimes it comes through the collective action of those who have been wronged. I will not interfere in either direction."
Yara looked at him in a long silence, then nodded with an acceptance that seemed like she had let go of a burden.
"Alright. Then we wait. For the storm. For the fleet. For..." she didn't finish, but Li Yuan knew what she meant.
For the moment when the water freezes. When softness becomes hardness. When patience turns into an action that cannot be reversed.
And that moment was now only hours away.
Night fell with a drizzle that began to fall—not a hard rain, but a continuous patter that made everything wet and cold. The wind blew with a constantly increasing force, making the trees sway and the roofs creak.
Li Yuan stood at the edge of the beach, letting the rain soak his clothes, letting the wind pull at his hair. And through his Comprehension of Water, he heard the storm with perfect clarity.
He could feel the pressure that was continuously dropping. He could hear the ocean currents that were starting to change their pattern—swirling in a way that indicated the center of the storm was moving closer. He could feel the water temperature dropping sharply, a sign that this storm carried immense energy.
Tomorrow, he mused with absolute certainty. Tomorrow morning, Hakeem's fleet will arrive. They will see a dark sky, a sea that is beginning to get rough, and they will hesitate. But they will also see the same island they have been coming to every month for ten years—an island that never fights back, that is always obedient.
And they will make a decision: take the tribute quickly and sail away before the storm gets worse. A logical decision. A decision they have made dozens of times before.
But this time, that decision will kill them.
Not because I commanded the storm. Not because I used supernatural power to manipulate the weather. But because I understood the patterns—the patterns of nature, the patterns of humans—deeply enough to place them exactly where the force of nature will do what I cannot or will not do myself.
Li Yuan closed his eyes and let the rain wash his face. He felt the weight of what was to come—not regret, but an awareness. An awareness that hundreds of people would die tomorrow. That some of them might not be completely evil. That the consequences of his action—or non-action—would resonate far beyond tomorrow.
But he also felt something else: acceptance. Acceptance that this was the path he had chosen. That sometimes, to protect the innocent, one must be willing to become the sword that cuts a knot that cannot be untied in any other way.
Frozen water, he mused for the last time before the storm. Not because it hates. Not because it wants to be hard. But because the season demands it. Because balance demands it. Because there is a line that should not be crossed, and consequences must come for those who cross it.
He opened his eyes and looked at the horizon where, in the distance, he knew Hakeem's fleet was preparing to sail into a trap they were unaware had been set.
And Li Yuan stood in the rain, waiting for dawn.
Waiting for the storm.
Waiting for the moment when the water would finally freeze.
And when that ice melts again, the world will be different.
For the better, he still hoped.
But even if not—the decision had been made.
And there was no turning back now.