Three days after leaving Miren, the sky changed.
It wasn't dramatic—no black clouds suddenly appeared or a howling wind. But there was a subtle shift in the color of the sky, in the way the sunlight broke through the thin clouds, in the air pressure that made the skin feel a little tighter.
Hassan felt it first. He stood at the helm with eyes that constantly checked the horizon, his lips moving in a silent calculation.
"A storm is coming," he announced on the third afternoon. "Maybe two days, maybe less."
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard the crew's tension rise—not panic, as they were all experienced sailors who had been through storms before, but a serious awareness. A storm on the open sea without a nearby harbor to take shelter in was a different matter from a storm near land.
"How bad?" Zahir asked, already starting to check the cargo to make sure everything was secured.
"Can't say for sure. The signs aren't too bad—not a major storm. But in this region, without accurate maps, we don't know if there are hidden islands or reefs that could be dangerous with high waves."
Hassan looked at the crew. "You know the procedure. Secure everything. Sails down to a minimum. Ropes checked twice. No one on deck except those working, and everyone uses a safety line."
The crew moved with the efficiency that comes from practice. Li Yuan joined Bashir to check the ropes—a task that had become familiar in the past weeks.
They worked in a focused silence, their hands moving with precision, their eyes checking every knot, every connection, every point that could fail under pressure.
"Have you been in a storm before?" Bashir asked after a few minutes.
"A few times," Li Yuan answered—a massive understatement, considering he had lived fifteen thousand years and sailed on various seas in various lives.
"Afraid?"
Li Yuan considered the question seriously. "Not in a way that makes me panic. But a healthy respect, yes. The sea in a storm is a reminder that humans are small, and the forces of nature don't care about our plans."
Bashir nodded in understanding. "I almost died in a storm once—five years ago, before I joined Hassan. The ship I was on capsized. I survived because of luck, not skill."
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard the traumatic memory that still carried weight—deep fear, water entering the lungs, a darkness that was almost the end.
"Since then, I'm not afraid of storms but I have a great respect for them. I know how quickly everything can change from safe to fatal."
"That is wisdom born from experience," Li Yuan said. "Those who have never come close to dying are often too confident. Those who survive a near-death experience learn to live carefully but without letting fear paralyze them."
Bashir looked at him with an expression that showed deep appreciation—not just for the words but for the understanding behind them.
That night, the wind began to pick up. Not strong, but constant in a way that made the ship sway more than usual.
Hassan ordered a double watch system—two people on deck at all times, not just one. And he himself barely left the helm, his eyes constantly monitoring the sky and the sea.
Li Yuan took his watch with Idris in the hours before dawn—the darkest and quietest period.
They stood on deck with safety lines tied to the rail, feeling the ship move with an increasingly irregular rhythm. The waves were getting higher, hitting the hull with increasing force.
"I won't be sleeping tonight," Idris admitted in a low voice. "Too restless."
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard his fear—not panic but a genuine anxiety about what was to come. This young man wasn't experienced enough to feel truly confident facing a storm on the open sea.
"That's a natural response," Li Yuan said. "Fear in a dangerous situation is a sign that your instincts are working correctly."
"But you don't look afraid."
"I've been through enough dangerous situations to know that fear doesn't help when a storm comes. What helps is preparation, caution, and trust in your crew."
Li Yuan looked at the sky that was beginning to show signs of dawn—a dark gray that was slowly becoming a little brighter. "And also accepting that there are things beyond your control. You can prepare as best you can, work as hard as you can, but in the end, sometimes the sea decides."
"That's not very comforting," Idris said with a nervous smile.
"No. But it's the truth. And sometimes facing the truth—even a frightening one—is better than living in an illusion of control that doesn't exist."
They stood in silence for a few minutes, listening to the rising wind, feeling the sea spray that was starting to get more intense.
"Hassan said you'll keep going south even after he stops," Idris finally said. "Does that make you brave or crazy?"
Li Yuan laughed softly—a sound almost lost in the wind. "Maybe both. Or maybe neither—just someone who has lived long enough to know that safety is an illusion, and if you're going to live, it's better to live by seeing what's beyond the comfortable limits."
"I'm not sure I could do that. Go alone into the unknown."
"You don't have to. Everyone has their own path, their own limits that feel right." Li Yuan looked at the sea that was starting to become visible in the faint dawn light. "What's important is that you don't let fear make decisions for you, but also don't let arrogance make you take foolish risks."
"Finding that balance is hard."
"Yes. And it's a lifetime's work, not something you learn once and are done with."
The storm arrived the next afternoon with a greater force than Hassan had predicted.
The sky changed from gray to almost black within an hour. The wind increased from steady to howling. And the waves—which had been high but manageable—suddenly became mountains of water that hit the ship with a fury that felt almost personal.
"Everyone to your positions!" Hassan shouted against the wind. "Sails down completely! Safety lines double-checked!"
Li Yuan worked with Bashir and Zahir to lower the last sail—a job that required strength and coordination in the midst of a wind that tried to tear the sail from their hands.
The ropes were wet and slippery. The ship swayed violently, almost making them lose their footing several times. But the safety lines held them, and with coordinated effort, they managed to lower the sail and tie it securely.
The rain came—not gradually but suddenly, as if the sky had opened with anger. The water was so heavy it was hard to see more than a few meters. The sound was so loud that shouting was almost useless.
Li Yuan felt the storm through his Water Comprehension—not just the rain and waves but the stories carried by every drop. Water from far out in the deep sea, lifted by a wind that moved with terrifying speed, falling with a force that could injure.
But he also felt something else—a pattern in the chaos. The storm wasn't random, even though it felt like it. There was a rhythm, there was a flow, there was a way the water moved that followed the same laws of physics that had always governed it.
A storm is angry water, he mused as he held onto the wet rail. But angry water still follows the nature of water—flowing downwards, seeking balance, responding to pressure and gravity.
If I could understand this rhythm, I could...
No. He stopped the thought.
He could release his Water Comprehension—release the wrapping and use its full resonance to calm the storm, to force the water to flow in a more docile way.
But that would reveal who he was. It would create questions he couldn't answer without lying or revealing a truth that was too great.
And more than that—this storm was a natural test. Hassan and his crew needed to get through this with their own skill, with their preparation, with their courage. If Li Yuan intervened every time there was danger, they would never grow, never learn, never become stronger sailors.
So I'll just work, he decided. Using the physical strength of my awareness body, which doesn't tire in the same way as a human body, to help in a way that won't be too conspicuous.
A large wave hit—as tall as a two-story house, crashing into the ship with a force that made the wood creak with a painful protest.
Water flooded the deck, reaching their knees before flowing out through the drainage holes.
"Hold on!" Hassan shouted, his voice almost lost in the storm's fury.
Li Yuan held on with a steady strength—not excessive, but enough not to lose his footing when the others had to struggle.
Hours passed in a constant struggle—tying down loose ropes, securing shifting cargo, making sure no one fell into the sea.
At one point, a large water barrel began to shift—hundreds of kilograms of weight, it would crush anything in its path if not stopped.
Li Yuan moved quickly, positioning himself in the barrel's path, and used the full strength of his awareness body to stop it—feet planted steadily on the deck, hands pushing with a force that would be difficult for a normal human.
The barrel stopped. Zahir and Bashir quickly came to help tie it down better.
"Thanks!" Zahir shouted against the rain. "That would have killed someone!"
Li Yuan nodded, saying nothing. Within the ten-meter radius—although it was hard to hear intentions in the midst of the chaos—he felt Zahir's shock at the strength Li Yuan had shown.
But there was no time for questions. The storm was still raging.
In the end—after six hours that felt like forever—the storm began to subside.
The wind slowed from a howl to a steady blow. The rain lessened from a downpour to a steady drizzle. The waves went down from mountains to hills.
And finally, after a total of eight hours, the storm passed—leaving behind a sky that was gray but not black, a sea that was still choppy but not ferocious, and a ship that was damaged but still afloat.
Hassan checked the damage with tired but meticulous eyes. A few planks on the deck were cracked. One sail was torn even though it had been lowered. Ropes needed to be replaced. But the hull was intact, the mast was still standing, and most importantly—all the crew were still alive and relatively unharmed.
"We were lucky," he finally said in a voice hoarse from shouting for hours. "It could have been much worse."
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard the crew's deep relief—not just because they survived, but because they survived together, because no one was lost, because they passed this test as a cohesive team.
Bashir looked at Li Yuan with an expression that was a mix of respect and curiosity. "You stopped that barrel like it weighed nothing. I'm not sure I could have done that."
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard the unspoken question—curiosity about how a traveler who didn't look like a professional sailor could have such strength and stability.
"Adrenaline," Li Yuan answered simply—an explanation reasonable enough to satisfy without revealing the truth. "When danger comes, the body finds a strength you didn't know you had."
Bashir nodded in acceptance—an explanation that was plausible enough not to be questioned further.
Hassan gathered the crew for a brief meeting. "Good work, everyone. We'll rest in shifts—half sleep now, half after four hours. Repairs start tomorrow morning when we're all fresher."
"For now—eat, sleep, and be grateful we're still alive to tell the story."
The crew dispersed with tired but relieved steps. Li Yuan stayed on deck for a moment longer, looking out at the sea that was slowly returning to normal.
Within five centimeters around his wet feet, he felt the water—no longer angry but still carrying the residual energy of the storm. Like someone who had just run at full intensity and was now trying to breathe normally again.
The first storm in uncharted territory, he mused. But it won't be the last. The further we go south, the more unpredictable the sea will become.
But that's part of the journey—learning to sail through uncertainty, to survive through danger, to find strength not only within yourself but in a community that works together.
A lesson I have learned thousands of times, but one that never loses its relevance.
Hassan came up with a heavy step. "You're not sleeping?"
"Soon. Just... reflecting."
"About?"
"About how fragile humans are individually but how incredibly resilient they are when they work together."
Hassan laughed—a tired but sincere sound. "That's a good philosophy for a sailor. No one survives on the sea alone for very long."
He looked at Li Yuan with eyes that tried to read him. "You'll be sailing alone when I can't go any further. Does that not frighten you?"
"Not entirely alone. I will look for another ship, another crew. There are always people who sail further."
"Maybe. But the further you go, the fewer ships you find." Hassan paused. "Make sure what you're looking for is worth the risk you're taking."
"I will," Li Yuan answered—a sincere promise even though he didn't fully know what he was looking for.
He just knew that this journey felt right. That every kilometer south felt like stepping closer to something—not a destination but an understanding, not a place but a realization.
Of what, he didn't know yet.
But he would keep sailing until he did.
Or until the sea decided that this journey was enough.