The Seafarer's Star set sail with the dawn—a large vessel moving slowly but surely, its reinforced hull cutting through the waves with a confidence that came from decades of sailing dangerous waters.
Li Yuan stood at the stern, watching as Maravi Island slowly became a thin line on the horizon, then disappeared completely into the morning mist. It was the last bustling port before entering a region rarely visited by regular traders.
Captain Hassan joined him after giving his initial instructions to the crew.
"Have you sailed this far before?" he asked, lighting a pipe—a habit Li Yuan had noticed the man performed every morning.
"Not this far," Li Yuan answered honestly. "But I have crossed many seas."
Hassan nodded, not pressing for details. "The outer isles are different. No guaranteed trade routes. No military patrols if there's trouble. Just you, the ship, and the sea."
He exhaled smoke that mingled with the wind. "And the islands... some are friendly, some are not. Some have strange rules. I once landed on an island where we were forbidden to speak to the women. On another, we had to give a gift to the oldest tree before we were allowed to take fresh water."
"You respect those rules?" Li Yuan asked.
"Always. It's not my business to judge how other people live." Hassan looked at him with sharp eyes. "You should, too. In these islands, a stranger who doesn't respect customs can disappear without a trace."
The warning was delivered in a casual tone, but Li Yuan heard—when Hassan was close enough—the seriousness in his intent.
"I understand."
The Seafarer's Star had a crew of twelve—larger than the Safiya, and more organized. There was a clear hierarchy: Hassan at the top, then a quartermaster named Zahir who managed the distribution of food and water, then the navigator, helmsman, and so on.
Li Yuan spent the first day learning the ship's structure and where he could help without disrupting the established rhythm.
He was assigned to work with Bashir—a young man with calloused hands and a rare smile—who was responsible for the maintenance of the ropes and sails.
"Have you ever repaired sails?" Bashir asked, pointing to a spare sail torn in several places.
"A few times."
"Good. We have a lot to fix before we reach the open ocean."
They worked in comfortable silence—Bashir wasn't a talkative person, and Li Yuan appreciated that. There was only the sound of the needle piercing the thick canvas, the wind filling the sails above them, the waves hitting the hull with a steady rhythm.
After a few hours, Bashir stopped for a drink of water.
"Hassan said you want to go as far south as we can take you."
"Yes."
"Why?"
Li Yuan considered the answer. "There's something there I need to understand."
Bashir looked at him with an unreadable expression. "People who go that far south are usually running from something. Or looking for wealth. You don't look like a fugitive or a merchant."
"I am neither."
"Then you're a seeker." Bashir returned to his work. "Be careful what you seek. Sometimes what you find isn't what you expected."
Three days at sea, and a routine began to form. Waking up before dawn, working until the sun was high, resting during the hottest part of the day, working again until evening, eating with the crew, sleeping—or in Li Yuan's case, meditating in a way that resembled sleep.
On the fourth night, Hassan called the entire crew to the deck for a briefing.
"Tomorrow we will reach Kethara Island—the first island in the outer archipelago. We will anchor to take on fresh water and maybe trade if they have something we need."
He looked into each face with serious eyes. "Kethara has rules: no visible weapons on land. No loud arguments with the locals. And most importantly—do not touch the stone statues on the beach. They are sacred."
"What happens if someone touches them?" one of the crew members asked—a young man who had just joined this voyage.
"Last year, a trader from another ship touched one out of curiosity. The locals forced the entire crew to leave the island immediately, without water or supplies." Hassan paused. "They barely survived to the next island. So: do not touch the statues."
The crew nodded with solemn understanding.
Li Yuan heard—through his Wenjing Realm when Hassan was close enough—that this was not an empty threat. The captain genuinely cared for his crew, and his warning came from bitter experience.
Kethara Island appeared the next afternoon—a small island with a white sandy beach and a dense forest. And just as Hassan had said, there were stone statues on the beach—tall carvings resembling human figures with hands raised to the sky.
The ship anchored at a safe distance. A small boat was lowered, and Hassan chose six men to go ashore—including Li Yuan.
"Remember the rules," Hassan reminded them as they rowed. "Respect. Politeness. No sudden movements."
The people of Kethara waited on the beach—a small group of men and women in clothing made from plant fibers, their skin dark from the sun, their eyes watchful but not hostile.
Their leader—an old man with white hair and intricate tattoos on his arms—stepped forward.
Hassan bowed respectfully. "We come in peace. We ask for fresh water and, if there is, a chance to trade."
The leader looked at them one by one, his eyes lingering on Li Yuan longer than the others.
When the leader spoke close enough, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm a complex intention—suspicion of strangers mixed with the awareness that trade sometimes brings useful goods, and something else... a curiosity about Li Yuan specifically.
"You may take water," the leader finally said in a heavily accented language. "And we have pearl shells for trade. What have you brought?"
Hassan nodded at Zahir, who opened a bag and showed the goods—cloth, iron knives, dried spices.
The negotiation began—not with many words but with gestures, by showing the goods, with a nod or a shake of the head.
Li Yuan stood slightly apart, observing. This island was peaceful in a different way from other places. There was no palpable tension, no hidden fear. Just a small community living to its own rhythm, which interacted with the outside world on its own terms.
A harmony born from isolation, he mused. They are not seeking connection with the wider world. They are simply preserving their own way of life.
The old leader approached Li Yuan with a slow step.
"You are different from the others," he said in a low voice. "Your eyes... the eyes of one who has seen much."
When he spoke close enough, Li Yuan heard through his Wenjing Realm not a threat but a recognition—of one old person to another, even though Li Yuan's face did not show his age.
"I have walked for quite a while," Li Yuan answered simply.
"And you will walk for longer." The leader nodded as if confirming something to himself. "Those statues—" he pointed to the stone figures, "—they are ancestors. They teach us to honor those who came before. And to know that we, too, will be statues one day."
"A reminder of mortality," Li Yuan observed.
"And of connection. We are all water flowing from the same source." The leader looked at him with eyes that seemed to see more than they should. "You understand this better than most."
Before Li Yuan could respond, the leader had already turned and returned to his group.
Hassan called out. "We are done. Back to the boat."
As they rowed back to the ship, Zahir whispered, "What did the leader say to you?"
"About water and ancestors."
"Strange. He doesn't usually talk to strangers." Zahir shrugged. "Maybe he liked you."
But Li Yuan knew it was more than that. The old man had seen something—not with ordinary eyes but with an intuition that came from decades of listening to things unseen.
And what he saw made him acknowledge Li Yuan as... what? A similar traveler? An old soul?
Li Yuan did not know. But he felt—for the first time since leaving Maravi—that this journey south would bring him more than just new islands.
It would bring him a new understanding of himself. Of the path he had walked for fifteen thousand years.
And perhaps—just perhaps—of where that path finally leads.
The ship sailed from Kethara as the sun began to set, carrying them farther south, deeper into the outer isles.
And Li Yuan stood at the stern, gazing at the stone statues that were slowly disappearing into the distance, carrying with him the words of the old leader:
We are all water flowing from the same source.
Yes, he mused. But there are many ways to flow. And a long journey teaches that sometimes, the source we think we came from is not the true source.
Sometimes, we must flow to the ends of the world to find out where we really came from.
And perhaps that was what called him to the south.
Not a specific destination. But the search for the source.
The two-year journey had just begun.