The dawn after the storm brought a sky that was almost painfully clear—a blue so intense after yesterday's gray that the eyes needed time to adjust.
The sea was still choppy but not dangerous. The wind was steady but not threatening. And the Seafarer's Star was afloat with a hull that was intact but a deck that showed the scars of a battle with the elements.
Hassan woke the crew earlier than usual. "We have a lot of work. The sooner the ship is repaired, the sooner we can sail safely."
Li Yuan joined Bashir and Idris to repair the cracked deck planks—a job that required precision and strength.
The damaged planks had to be carefully removed so as not to harm the surrounding structure. Then new planks—from the reserve supplies that Hassan always carried—had to be cut to the exact size, fitted, and nailed firmly.
Li Yuan worked with a calm focus. The hands that held the planks were steady while Bashir and Idris hammered in the nails. The muscles were not tired despite working for hours yesterday and sleeping for only a few hours.
"You don't look tired," Idris observed after an hour of work. "We're all moving like old men this morning, but you... you're moving like you just woke up after a full night's sleep."
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard Idris's intention—not hostile suspicion but genuine curiosity. This young man was starting to notice patterns, starting to ask questions.
"I'm used to working with little sleep," Li Yuan answered—a truth that didn't reveal that his awareness body didn't need sleep in the same way a physical body does.
Bashir looked at him with a thoughtful expression. "Yesterday, when you stopped that barrel... Zahir said it weighed at least two hundred kilograms. I don't think I could have stopped it alone."
"The right angle," Li Yuan explained. "And like I said—adrenaline. The body finds unusual strength in danger."
Bashir nodded but within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard a subtle doubt. This man wasn't entirely convinced by the explanation, but also didn't know what the alternative explanation was.
"I've heard stories," Idris said while placing the next nail, "about travelers who have... unusual abilities. People who can do things that normal people can't."
"Martial arts?" Bashir asked with a skeptical tone. "Those are just legends. No one can really use supernatural power."
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard the intentions of both of them—Idris with an open curiosity, Bashir with a pragmatic skepticism. Neither of them truly believed in cultivators, but Idris was more open to the possibility of things that were beyond normal understanding.
"Even if cultivators are real," Li Yuan said carefully, "I am not one of them. I'm just a traveler with some experience and a little luck."
"But you are different," Idris insisted with an innocence that made it hard to ignore. "The way you move, the way you talk, even the way you look at the sea—it's like you're seeing something we don't see."
Li Yuan was silent for a moment, choosing his words very carefully. "I've lived long enough to learn to listen to things that most people miss. It's not supernatural power—just attention and experience."
Bashir seemed satisfied with that answer, but Idris still looked with curious eyes. Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard that this young man would not let go of this question easily—but also wouldn't force an answer if it wasn't given.
At noon, most of the repairs were complete. The deck planks were replaced, the broken ropes were discarded and replaced with new ones, the torn sail was carefully sewn by Zahir who turned out to have very good sewing skills.
Hassan gathered the crew for lunch—a simple meal from the supplies they bought in Tavish, but after the hard work, it felt like a banquet.
"We were lucky," Hassan said while distributing the dried fish. "The storm could have been much worse. The ship could have been completely damaged. We could have lost someone."
He looked at each face with serious eyes. "But we didn't. Because you all worked together, because no one panicked, because our preparations were solid."
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard Hassan's pride in his crew—a sincere and deep pride, not just as a captain but as someone who cared for them as individuals.
"Now we have a decision to make," Hassan continued. "We can go back to Tavish or Miren—anchor for more thorough repairs, replenish the supplies that were damaged in the storm."
"Or we can continue south. The ship is solid, the supplies are sufficient, and according to this imperfect map, there should be an island within three days of sailing."
He paused, letting the words sink in. "I won't make this decision alone. You all share the same risk. So we'll vote—go back or continue?"
A moment of silence as everyone considered.
Zahir spoke first. "I vote to continue. We've come this far. And the storm we got through proves we can handle the challenges."
Bashir nodded. "Agreed. The ship is solid. We're solid. No reason to turn back now."
One by one, every crew member gave their vote. All to continue.
Hassan looked at Li Yuan last. "And you? Even though you're a passenger, your voice matters. You worked as hard as the rest of the crew."
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard Hassan's intention—not just courtesy but genuine respect. This captain had seen how Li Yuan worked, how he acted in a crisis, and gave weight to his opinion.
"I vote to continue," Li Yuan said. "But with greater caution. This storm is a reminder that the sea in this region does not forgive mistakes."
Hassan nodded with satisfaction. "Then we continue. But as Li Yuan said—with greater caution. No unnecessary risks. No arrogance."
In the afternoon, with the repairs finished and the decision made, the crew had time to relax—a rare moment in a sailor's life.
Li Yuan sat at the stern in his favorite position, looking at the sea that was now calm as glass. The reflection of the sky on the surface made it hard to tell where the water ended and the air began.
Within five centimeters around his feet that touched the deck, he felt the water that clung to it from the spray—cold, salty, carrying stories of the depths below, of the creatures that swam in the darkness, of the currents that flowed without end.
Hassan joined him with a lit pipe—an evening ritual that had become familiar.
"The crew is starting to notice you more than usual," Hassan said without an introduction. "Especially after yesterday."
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard Hassan's intention—not an accusation but an observation. And underneath it, a deep curiosity about who this passenger really was.
"I know," Li Yuan admitted. "I try not to stand out too much, but in a crisis situation, it's hard not to use full ability."
"An ability that isn't normal for an ordinary traveler," Hassan observed. "Unusual strength. Exceptional stability. And you never look truly tired."
Li Yuan was silent, not sure how much to reveal.
Hassan exhaled smoke, looking out at the horizon. "I won't force you to explain. Everyone has their secrets. But I want you to know—I appreciate what you did yesterday. Stopping that barrel saved a life."
"And also," he continued in a lower voice, "I noticed something else. When the waves were at their most ferocious, when the ship was rocking the hardest... I saw you standing there, looking at the sea, and for a moment I thought you were going to do something. Something big."
"But you didn't. You just stood there, then went back to work with the others."
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard a surprising understanding in Hassan's intention. This captain somehow sensed that Li Yuan had an ability he wasn't using, and appreciated that restraint.
"I could have done something," Li Yuan finally admitted carefully. "But it would have taken the lesson from you. You needed to get through that storm with your own strength, to know that you could."
Hassan nodded slowly. "That is a wise philosophy. Many people with power would use it without thinking about the long-term consequences."
He looked at Li Yuan with eyes that tried to read deeper. "You are not a cultivator from the stories—a person who flies in the sky or shatters a mountain with a single punch. But you are also not an ordinary human."
"I am... something in between," Li Yuan said carefully. "Someone who has lived long enough to understand things that most people can't. But who chooses to live among normal humans, to learn from them, not to dominate them."
Hassan nodded in acceptance. "That is enough for me. I don't need to know the details. I just need to know that you won't endanger my crew, and that when you choose to help, it comes from a good place."
"I will never endanger them," Li Yuan said with an intensity that made Hassan look up. "I have lived too long and lost too many people to ever intentionally harm those I consider... a community."
Hassan smiled—a rare but sincere expression. "Good. Then we don't need to talk about this anymore. You are a hard-working and reliable crew member. That's enough."
They sat in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, sharing a quiet moment after the chaos of the storm.
"How much longer do you think you will sail with me?" Hassan finally asked.
"Until you reach the limit of the area you're comfortable navigating. Maybe two more months? Three?"
"Around that. There is one last port—Port of the Southern Winds—that is sometimes visited by very brave traders. After that, only small, rarely visited islands, and eventually... nothing."
Hassan looked south with an expression that was a mix of awe and concern. "I don't know what's south of the Port of the Southern Winds. No one has returned from there with a believable story. Some say it's just endless sea. Others say there's a large landmass. Still others say there's something... different."
"Will you try to find out?"
"Yes," Li Yuan answered without hesitation.
"Alone?"
"If I have to. But I hope to find another ship or traveler who is willing to go further."
Hassan nodded with a non-judgmental understanding. "I hope you find what you are looking for. Or at least find a better question than the one you carry now."
Li Yuan smiled faintly. "That is a good wish. Sometimes a better question is a more valuable gift than an answer."
That night, as the crew slept with the satisfaction that comes from hard work and a good decision, Li Yuan stood on deck alone.
The moon was rising—not full but bright enough to make the sea shine. Countless stars stretched from horizon to horizon.
Within five centimeters around his body, he felt the water in the air—the humidity, the very fine spray from the gentle waves, even the water in the deck's wood that had been absorbed during years of sailing.
And through his Water Comprehension, he heard deeper—not just the individual stories carried by each drop, but the collective resonance of the sea in this region.
Something was changing the further he went south. The water felt... purer not in the sense of being clean but in the sense of being closer to its fundamental essence. Like hearing the original language from which all dialects were derived.
I don't know what's in the south, he mused while feeling the wind that carried an aroma of the sea different from what he knew. I have no specific destination, no clear quest.
But there is something there. Something that resonates with my Water Comprehension in a way I can't fully explain.
Not a mystical call. Not destiny. Just... a deep curiosity about what happens when water flows as far as it can, when the sea reaches its outermost limit.
What is at the end of the flow?
What awaits in the place where water—the element that has been my teacher and friend and the core of who I am—reaches its purest form?
I don't know.
But for the first time in thousands of years, I feel like I am moving towards something important. Not for the world—the world doesn't need me to find anything. But for myself.
To understand Water Comprehension with a depth that even fifteen thousand years have not fully revealed.
He stood there until the moon was high in the sky, listening to the sea, feeling the wind, letting his thoughts flow like the water he understood so deeply but which still held mysteries to be revealed.
Tomorrow, they would sail again.
Further south.
Deeper into uncertainty.
Closer to... whatever awaited there.
And Li Yuan was ready—not with a specific plan or hope, but with the attitude that had carried him through fifteen thousand years: an openness to experience, a willingness to learn, and a trust that the path would reveal itself to those who walk with attention and respect.