The second week in the Port of the Southern Winds began with a moment of reflection that changed something in Li Yuan.
He stood on the shore at dawn—the same place where he had observed the south last week. A cold wind blew from that direction, carrying a very faint scent of ice.
And in the quiet of that morning, a thought came to him.
I could listen now.
Not just with his ears. Not just within a ten-meter radius. But by releasing the wrapping completely—letting his Water Comprehension expand limitlessly, feeling every drop of water in the entire world.
He could feel the sea in the north where Hassan was now sailing. The rivers on the eastern mainland where children played. The rain that fell in the western archipelagos. And yes—the ice in the south, silent and vast, storing thousands of years of memory.
He could hear it all. At once. Without needing to walk a single step.
Within five centimeters around his body, the water in the air vibrated with possibility—ready to respond if he chose to release his full resonance.
I could know what's in the south without going there. I could understand the ice from here, listen to its story through a spiritual connection that transcends physical distance.
But...
Li Yuan looked at the horizon where the faint white of the ice was waiting.
But that's not Daojing.
Daojing is a path of understanding born from direct experience. From touching, feeling, living within the element itself. Not from listening from afar, no matter how accurate.
I could hear the story of a waterfall from a thousand kilometers away. But that's different from standing beneath it, feeling the force of the falling water, understanding why the water chooses to descend with that power.
The difference between knowledge and understanding. Between information and wisdom.
He remembered his conversation with Ketura on Shell Island: "True understanding comes not from conquering but from listening."
And he understood now with new clarity.
Listening isn't just about spiritual perception from afar. Listening is about being present—truly present—in the place where the water is, allowing oneself to become part of that rhythm, allowing direct experience to teach something that remote perception cannot.
Daojing chooses to walk, he mused. To experience. To be a traveler not just an observer.
And now... I am water that has a purpose.
Like a waterfall that descends—not because it's forced, but because it is its nature, because gravity and the shape of the world make descending a natural path.
I am not called to the south by a mystical force. But there is a purpose born from the nature of my own understanding—a desire to experience water in its most different form, to stand in the middle of the ice and hear what can only be heard with direct presence.
That is my choice. Like a waterfall chooses to fall.
The decision was remade—not because he had to, but because he chose to. Choosing experience over convenience. Choosing presence over remote perception.
That day, Li Yuan returned to Kira's tavern with a new, calm understanding.
The tavern was more crowded than usual—the colder weather made people seek warm places. Li Yuan sat at his usual table near the window, and Kira brought him tea without him asking.
"You look different today," she observed while pouring. "More... centered, somehow."
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard Kira's intention—not just a casual observation but a sincere concern. This woman had learned to read people with impressive accuracy.
"I made a decision," Li Yuan said simply.
"About the south?"
"Yes. I will go when spring comes. Or maybe before, if I feel ready."
Kira was silent for a moment, then sat down across from Li Yuan—a gesture she rarely made, showing this conversation was important.
"Why?" she asked directly. "Why go to a place that has killed every person who tried? What is so important that it's worth dying for?"
Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard her intention—not judging but truly wanting to understand. She had seen too many people go and never return, and each time she wondered why.
"Because there is an understanding that can only be reached with a direct presence," Li Yuan answered carefully. "I can learn about ice from books. I can hear stories from those who tried and failed. But that's different from standing in the middle of it, feeling the cold, listening to the silence with full presence."
"But you will die."
"Maybe. But I have... advantages that others don't have. I can survive in conditions that would kill a normal human."
Kira looked at him with sharp green eyes. "You are not a normal human, I knew that since the first week. The way you move, the way you talk, the way you look at the sea—it's like you are a part of it."
Li Yuan did not deny it. "I have spent a very long time understanding water. And ice is water in a different form—a form that stores, that reflects, that remembers in a way that liquid water cannot."
"I need to understand that. Not from afar, but by being there."
Kira was silent for a long time, looking at the cup in her hands. Then she looked at Li Yuan again.
"I won't try to stop you. Everyone has their path. But I will ask one thing: if you survive—and I hope you do—come back here. Tell me what you found. Let the deaths of all those who went before you not be in vain by providing knowledge they couldn't bring back."
"I promise," Li Yuan said with a seriousness that made Kira nod with satisfaction.
In the afternoon, Li Yuan visited the library again.
Eldric was arranging old books when he entered. The old man turned and smiled—an expression that showed he was happy to see Li Yuan back.
"I have read all the journals you have about the south," Li Yuan said. "And I have a question."
"Of course. Ask."
"Everyone who has tried to go south used a ship. They tried to sail through the ice, fight the storms, bring a large crew and supplies."
"Yes, that's the logical way for maritime exploration."
"But what if someone went alone? Without a ship, without supplies. Just... swimming."
Eldric looked at him with an expression that was a mix of confusion and concern. "Swimming? Through freezing water? You would die in minutes. Hypothermia would kill you before you reached even ten kilometers."
"But what if someone could survive in cold water indefinitely? What if someone didn't need to breathe or eat?"
Eldric was silent, then slowly understanding came to his eyes. "You... you are a cultivator. Not just a regular traveler."
"Yes."
Eldric sat down heavily, digesting this information. Within the ten-meter radius, Li Yuan heard his intention shift from skepticism to a complete recalculation—if Li Yuan was really a cultivator who could survive in extreme conditions, then the calculation changed completely.
"If you can swim indefinitely, without needing to breathe or for warmth..." Eldric stood up and grabbed a map. "Then you are not bound to the safe routes for ships. You can go directly south, cutting through areas that are too dangerous for a wooden ship."
He pointed to the map. "Ships have to navigate around storms, avoid floating ice, look for open water channels. But if you swim below the surface..."
"I can bypass all of that," Li Yuan finished.
"How fast can you swim?"
"Faster than a ship. Especially if I don't need to rest."
Eldric calculated in his head. "Then... maybe ten days to reach the land of ice. Maybe less."
He looked at Li Yuan with a new respect. "I still think this is dangerous. But if anyone can succeed, maybe it is someone like you."
"I will try," Li Yuan said simply.
That night, Li Yuan stood on the beach again—a ritual that had become a habit.
The moon was nearly full, making the sea shine with silver light. The waves were calm tonight, just a soft whisper as they touched the rocky shore.
Within five centimeters around his body, he felt the water in the air, in the sea spray from the waves, in the humidity that carried traces of ice from the south.
And he reflected on the choice he had made.
I could release my Wenjing fully now. Hear the whole world at once. Know all the stories, all the resonances, without walking a single step.
But that's not the path I chose.
I chose to be a waterfall—to have a purpose born from natural properties, to move with determination but without coercion.
I chose experience over knowledge. Presence over remote perception.
Because Daojing is not about being omniscient. It's about understanding with a depth that only comes from living within the element itself.
And now, the element is calling—not with a mystical voice but with the natural logic of a journey that has brought me this far.
To the ice. To the silence. To the mirror that reflects thousands of years of memory.
Li Yuan looked south where the faint white was waiting in the darkness.
Three more months until the spring the trader had suggested.
But maybe he didn't need to wait that long.
Maybe in a few weeks, when he felt truly ready, he would step into the water and swim—keep swimming—until the ice welcomed him.
Like a waterfall that descends.
With purpose. With a choice. With the understanding that some lessons can only be learned by falling.