The storm subsided in the afternoon—not dramatically, but slowly losing its strength like a giant finally worn out. The rain turned from a wall of water to a gentle drizzle. The wind decreased from a horrifying roar to a gust that was still strong but no longer threatening.
And the sea—the sea that had been so fierce for hours—began to calm down. The waves were still high, but they were no longer ship-swallowing monsters.
Li Yuan stood at the edge of the beach, looking at the debris scattered along the shoreline as far as the eye could see. Pieces of wood, torn sails, empty barrels, and sometimes... bodies. Not many—most of the pirate crew had drowned far out at sea—but enough to be a reminder of the price that had been paid.
Behind him, the settlement was slowly coming back to life. The residents who had hidden in the sheltered bay began to emerge, their eyes wide with disbelief as they saw what was left of the fleet that had oppressed them for ten years.
There were no more ships docked arrogantly at their pier. No more pirates walking with entitlement through their streets. Just... silence. And debris.
Jelani—the old fisherman who had helped Li Yuan plan this—walked closer with a hesitant gait, as if he wasn't sure what he was seeing was real.
"They're... they're gone?" his voice was almost a whisper. "All of them?"
"Most of them sank," Li Yuan answered in a neutral voice. "A few small ships might have survived—the ones that were fast enough to escape before the storm reached its peak. But the main fleet, the large ships that carried Hakeem's power... they are all gone."
Jelani looked at the sea with a complex expression—relief mixed with something akin to shock. Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard the old man's intention: joy that the oppression was over, but also disbelief that this had actually happened. And beneath it all, the question he didn't dare to ask out loud.
How many died? And am I partly responsible?
"Your granddaughter," Li Yuan said softly. "The girl who was taken three years ago. She was among those who were saved. She's safe now, at the meeting hall with the other children."
Jelani looked at him with eyes that were suddenly teary. He didn't speak—couldn't, maybe—but he nodded earnestly and turned to run towards the meeting hall.
Li Yuan let him go, then returned his gaze to the sea.
Ten children were saved, he mused with a deep but incomplete satisfaction. Of how many were taken over ten years? Dozens? Hundreds? I don't know. And for those who weren't saved—those who were sold, those who died before this day—there is nothing I can do for them now.
But ten is better than none. And the system that took them has collapsed.
That evening, the settlement held a meeting in the central square—not a celebration yet, but a gathering to decide what to do next.
Li Yuan was present but didn't sit at the front. He stood at the edge of the crowd, observing, listening.
The village leader—a middle-aged man named Amari who had been chosen years ago but never had any real power under Hakeem's shadow—stood in the middle with an expression that was a mix of relief and uncertainty.
"The Sea Emperor has fallen," he announced in a voice that was still trembling slightly. "His fleet is destroyed. And our island... our island is free."
The crowd responded with a mixed sound—some cheering, some crying, some just sitting in silent shock.
"But," Amari continued, "we must decide what happens next. There are a few pirates who survived—those who were stranded on the beach or who managed to swim. They are now our prisoners. And there is a question of what we should do with them."
A silence fell over the crowd. Then voices began to rise:
"Kill them! They showed us no mercy!"
"No—we are not like them. We must be better."
"But if we let them live, how do we know they won't rebuild?"
The argument began to escalate—some calling for quick and brutal justice, others wanting something more... humane.
And then Jelani stood up—the old man who had lost his granddaughter but who had now found her again.
"I want them dead," he said in a loud and clear voice. "I will not lie about that. They took my granddaughter. They made us live in fear for ten years."
The crowd became silent, listening.
"But," Jelani continued in a voice that became softer, "my granddaughter is safe now. And if I kill them out of vengeance—if I let anger control the decision—what am I teaching her? That violence is the answer? That we are no better than those who oppressed us?"
He looked around the crowd with tired but clear eyes.
"I propose this: we hold them. We make them work to rebuild what they destroyed. And after a certain time—maybe a year, maybe two—we decide again. Based on whether they show remorse, whether they change."
The proposal was met with a mixed reaction. Some nodded with acceptance. Others shook their heads in anger.
But slowly, after more discussion, the crowd came to a consensus: the surviving pirates would not be killed immediately. They would be held, forced to work in reparations, and their long-term fate would be decided later—after emotions were no longer so high, after there had been time for clearer thought.
Li Yuan heard all of this with quiet approval. Through his Wenjing Realm, when he was close enough to the speakers, he heard their intentions—no lies, no hidden agendas. Just people genuinely wrestling with a difficult moral question, trying to find a path between justice and compassion.
This is a good sign, he mused. They are not letting the trauma turn them into monsters. They are choosing to be better than their enemies.
After the meeting, Yara found him on the beach again—the place Li Yuan seemed to keep returning to, drawn to the stillness that was slowly returning to the sea.
Mina walked beside her—sister and sister now reunited, who had spent the last few hours just sitting together, recounting the lost three years.
"She wanted to meet you," Yara said as they approached. "The person who saved her."
Mina stepped forward hesitantly—a seventeen-year-old girl with eyes that carried trauma but also a surprising strength for someone who had gone through what she had.
"Thank you," she said in a quiet but firm voice. "For saving us. For... for stopping them."
Li Yuan looked at her with eyes that had seen too much suffering not to understand what he saw on Mina's face—a trauma that would take time to heal, but also a resilience that would help her endure.
"I just did what should have been done sooner," he said simply. "I regret that you had to suffer for three years before that system finally stopped."
Mina shook her head slowly. "You are not responsible for what happened to me. They who took me—they are responsible." She paused for a moment, then continued in a stronger voice: "But you are responsible for stopping them. And for that, I will always be grateful."
She stepped back to Yara's side, who gripped her hand gently.
"We will stay here for a while," Yara said. "Mina needs time to... to adjust. To process. And this island needs help to rebuild."
When she said this, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm what she didn't say out loud: that Yara also needed time. Time to process that her three-year mission had ended. Time to learn how to be a sister again, not just a desperate seeker.
"I understand," Li Yuan said. "And you? What will you do after this?"
Yara looked at him with eyes full of questions. "I thought that was my question for you. You're leaving, aren't you? Continuing south, following your mysterious 'call'?"
"Yes," Li Yuan admitted. "The work here is done. And there are other places that might need... understanding."
"Understanding," Yara repeated with a small but sincere smile. "That's a diplomatic way of saying intervention."
Li Yuan smiled too—a rare but genuine smile. "Perhaps. But I hope I have learned—from Kael and Valen, from you and Mina, from this island—that there is a difference between wise and arrogant intervention."
"And what is that difference?"
"The wise one," Li Yuan said after a moment's thought, "is the one that leaves people with the power to write their own story after the crisis is over. The arrogant one is the one that makes them dependent on an external savior."
He looked back at the settlement where the residents were gathered, planning, deciding their own future.
"They don't need me anymore. And that is the best sign that I did something right."
Yara looked at him in a long silence, then nodded with a deep understanding.
"Safe travels, Li Yuan. And thank you—not just for Mina, but for reminding me that sometimes, water has to freeze. But it never forgets how to flow again."
Li Yuan spent one last night on the island. He sat on the beach, listening to the now-gentle waves, reflecting on what had happened in the last week.
Hundreds of people had died—mostly pirates, some who may not have been completely evil but who made the choice to participate in a cruel system.
Ten children had been saved. The system that had oppressed ten thousand people on nine islands had collapsed.
Was it a fair trade-off? Li Yuan didn't know. No one could truly know.
But he knew this: he had made the decision with his eyes open, with a full understanding of the consequences, and with a commitment to minimize unnecessary suffering.
He did not release a comprehension to force an outcome. He did not use supernatural power that was clearly beyond human ability. He simply understood the patterns—the patterns of nature, the patterns of humans—with a depth that came from fifteen thousand years of experience, and he used that understanding to create the conditions where a force of nature would do what he could not or would not do himself.
Frozen water, he mused for the last time on this island. Hard, sharp, merciless when needed. But never forgetting that its essence is to flow, to give life, to seek balance.
And now, the season has changed. The water is melting again. And I will return to flowing—south, wherever the call takes me next.
With a new understanding of what I am capable of. Of what I am willing to do. And of the line between wise and arrogant intervention.
He stood as dawn began to break—the sky changing from black to gray to a soft gold on the eastern horizon.
A merchant ship would arrive in a few days—a regular ship carrying supplies and news. Li Yuan would wait for that ship and continue his journey south.
But for now, for the last few days on this island, he would help in small ways—help clean up the debris, help repair the houses damaged by the storm, help comfort the children who were still traumatized by what they had experienced.
Not as a savior. Not as a hero.
Just as a wanderer who happened to be there, who had some useful skills, and who was willing to help before continuing his journey.
Because that—in the end—was what he did.
Water that flows to the lowest place. To the place that needs it most.
And sometimes, when the season demands it, freezes into something hard and sharp.
But never forgets how to melt again.
Never forgets how to flow.
Forever.