The trade route that Li Yuan found on the third day after leaving the high plateau was not a busy one. It was a secondary route—wide enough for a small cart but not well-maintained enough for large caravans. Dust covered the uneven surface, and in some places, weeds were starting to reclaim the ground that thousands of feet had once trod.
But there were signs of human activity. The tracks of a cart that were still relatively fresh. Animal droppings that indicated someone had passed by in the last few days. Concrete signs, visible to the naked eye—not something sensed through cultivation, but a simple observation from a traveler who had walked long enough to recognize such patterns.
Merchants, Li Yuan concluded calmly. Or perhaps refugees. People walking between two places, not fully belonging to either.
He followed the tracks southward, his steps calm and unhurried, like someone who had all the time in the world—because he did.
On the fifth afternoon on the road, Li Yuan began to see clearer signs of civilization. Cultivated fields—though the crops in them looked wilted from a drought. Wooden fences that marked property lines. And finally, in the distance, smoke from a chimney rising into the afternoon sky.
He felt nothing special. No spiritual vibration, no resonance of comprehensions. Just a simple visual observation—the eye of a traveler who had seen thousands of settlements in countless forms.
The road began to improve as he approached the settlement. Flatter stones were laid to create a more stable surface. And then, as the sun began to lean westward, he saw it—the first settlement.
The settlement was not large. Perhaps forty or fifty families, their houses built from carefully hewn stone and strong wood. The architecture was simple but sturdy, designed to endure, to protect from the elements and perhaps also from external threats.
Most striking was the low wall that surrounded the settlement—not high enough to be a fortress, but high enough to send a clear message: This is our boundary. Inside is us, outside is the others.
Defensive, Li Yuan observed calmly. They built a wall not because they are being attacked, but because they fear being attacked. Or because they want to make it clear who belongs and who doesn't.
He stopped outside the gate, observing with eyes that had seen thousands of human communities in various forms.
Two guards stood at the gate. Young men, perhaps twenty years old, with upright postures and vigilant eyes. They wore simple but uniform clothing—dark brown tunics with embroidered patterns on the chest that likely symbolized something important to their community.
When they saw Li Yuan approaching, their hands instinctively moved to the hilts of the swords hanging at their waists. Not drawn—not yet. But the message was clear: We are ready if you are a threat.
Li Yuan stopped at a polite distance—far enough not to feel invasive, close enough to speak without shouting. He bowed his head slightly in a sign of respect.
"Good afternoon," he said in a calm, non-threatening voice. "I am a passing traveler. I am looking for a place to rest tonight, and perhaps information about the road south."
One of the guards—the older of the two, with a small scar above his left eyebrow—spoke in a firm but not immediately hostile tone.
"A traveler from where? And why are you coming from that direction?" He pointed north, to the barren high plateau. "No one passes from there unless they want to avoid the main road."
As the guard spoke, Li Yuan—with his Wenjing Realm always active within a five-centimeter radius of his body—heard more than just the words. He heard the intention behind the question: genuine suspicion, but also professional vigilance. This guard did not hate strangers, but his duty was to protect his community, and he took that duty seriously.
"I came from the north because I prefer a quiet path," Li Yuan replied with a simple honesty. "I have walked for two months without meeting anyone, and I found the experience... instructive."
The guard looked at him with an expression that mixed suspicion and confusion.
"Two months without meeting anyone? On the high plateau? How did you survive?"
Li Yuan smiled gently—a smile that didn't answer the question but also didn't invite further questions.
"I have learned to live on little. But I am not here to cause you trouble. If there is an inn or a place where a traveler can rest, I would be grateful for the directions."
The two guards exchanged glances. Through his Wenjing Realm—now that the second guard was also within very close proximity—Li Yuan could hear the unspoken conversation in their intentions.
The older guard: He doesn't look dangerous, but it's a strange time for a stranger to arrive. With the tension as it is...
The younger guard: Maybe he's a spy from Valen? But he came from the north, not the east...
Li Yuan did not react to what he heard. He just waited with a patience that had been polished by fifteen thousand years of experience.
Finally, the older guard spoke.
"We don't have an inn. But there is a meeting house where travelers are sometimes allowed to spend the night. I will take you to the Council Leader. He will decide if you can stay."
Li Yuan nodded calmly. "Thank you for your consideration."
The guard opened the gate—not completely, just wide enough for one person to pass through—and gestured for Li Yuan to follow.
As Li Yuan stepped through the threshold of the gate, he observed with eyes that had seen thousands of human communities.
There was order here. Structure. The streets were neat, arranged in a regular pattern. The houses were built in a uniform style—stone on the bottom, wood on the top, with slanted roofs to shed rain. A tradition was visible in every detail—the way people dressed, the way they walked with upright postures.
Residents who saw them pass stopped to stare. Not with open hostility, but with wary suspicion. Strangers were clearly not common here.
A closed community, Li Yuan observed with a non-judgmental neutrality. They guard their traditions tightly. Perhaps out of love for the traditions themselves. Or perhaps because tradition is the only thing that makes them feel safe in a changing world.
The guard led him to a larger building in the center of the settlement—a two-story structure built from the same stone but with more intricate carvings around the door and windows. A meeting place, perhaps. Or the leader's house.
"Wait here," the guard said before going inside.
Li Yuan waited with a patience that had been honed by thousands of years. He was not restless, not worried. Just present, observing how the afternoon sunlight touched the stones on the walls, how the gentle wind carried the scent of dry earth and wood smoke from the chimneys.
After a few minutes, the guard returned accompanied by an older man—perhaps sixty years old, with hair that was completely white but eyes that were still sharp and alert. He wore clothing similar to the others but of a slightly better quality, with more intricate embroidery.
"I am Daran," the man said in a deep, authoritative voice. "The Council Leader of Kael. My guard says you are a traveler seeking a place to rest."
Li Yuan bowed respectfully—not too deeply as to seem subservient, not too shallowly as to seem rude.
"Thank you for taking the time to meet with me," he said with sincere simplicity. "My name is Li Yuan. I have walked from the north and will continue south. If it is no trouble, I would be grateful for a place to rest tonight."
Daran looked at him with appraising eyes—not with hostility, but with the caution of a leader who had to protect his community.
And when Daran spoke, Li Yuan—through his Wenjing Realm within a five-centimeter radius—heard more than his words. He heard the complex intentions behind them: suspicion of a stranger, but also respect for the tradition of hospitality. The weariness from the burden of leadership. And beneath it all, a deep concern about something he had not yet mentioned.
"We don't usually receive travelers," Daran said in a measured tone. "Especially at a time like this. But our tradition teaches hospitality to those who come in peace."
He paused for a moment, as if considering how much to say.
"You may stay in the meeting house tonight. But I must warn you—if you plan to continue south, you will be passing through a region that is... tense."
"Tense?" Li Yuan asked in a tone that invited explanation without pressing.
Daran looked at him with an expression that was hard to read. Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard the internal conflict in the man's intentions: was it safe to share this information with a stranger? But also: maybe an outside perspective could help?
"There is another settlement," Daran finally said in a lower voice. "About half a day's journey to the east. They call themselves Valen. We... do not have a good relationship with them."
"Do not have a good relationship," Li Yuan repeated in a neutral tone. "Are you willing to tell me more?"
Daran hesitated. Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard the conflict in his intention: the desire to say yes, of course we have evidence, but the honesty he couldn't completely suppress that whispered no, no real evidence, just suspicion.
"We have... observations," Daran finally said in a defensive tone. "We see that their fields are greener than ours. We see that their wells are not dry. And we know that they have a complex irrigation system."
"But you haven't seen them diverting the river directly?" Li Yuan asked gently.
"No," Daran admitted reluctantly. "But what else is the explanation? Why do they still have water while we suffer?"
Li Yuan was silent for a moment, processing what he heard—both the words and the intentions behind them.
Fear, he mused with an understanding born from thousands of similar experiences. Fear of drought, fear of famine, fear of losing their way of life. And that fear is looking for a target, looking for someone to blame. And Valen—whom they already viewed with suspicion due to cultural differences—became the perfect target.
But that doesn't mean Valen is innocent. Maybe they are truly diverting the water. Or maybe they are just more efficient in its use. Or maybe there is a completely different explanation.
I don't know. Not yet.
"Thank you for sharing your story with me," Li Yuan said with sincere simplicity. "Tomorrow, if you allow, I would like to see the river for myself. And perhaps, if possible, speak to the people of Valen as well. To hear their side of the story."
Daran looked at him with an expression that was a mix of hope and suspicion.
"Why?" he asked in a direct tone. "Why would a traveler like you care about our conflict?"
And as he asked, Li Yuan heard—through his Wenjing Realm—the deeper questions behind the words: Do you really want to help? Or are you a spy? Or just a curious stranger who will make things worse?
Li Yuan looked into Daran's eyes with eyes that had seen fifteen thousand years of human history—eyes that had witnessed thousands of conflicts, thousands of preventable tragedies, thousands of missed opportunities.
"Because I have lived long enough," he said with absolute honesty, "to know how stories like this end if no one tries to change their direction. And I would rather prevent a tragedy than watch it unfold."
Daran looked at him in a long silence. Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard how the man's intentions shifted—from suspicion to evaluation, from evaluation to cautious hope.
"Alright," Daran finally said in a low voice. "Tomorrow, I will show you the river. And if you want to speak with Valen... that is your choice. But I warn you—they are not friendly to strangers. And they are certainly not friendly to anyone who comes from our direction."
Li Yuan nodded calmly. "I understand the risks. Thank you for your hospitality."
Daran stood to leave, but stopped at the doorway.
"Li Yuan," he said without turning back, "if you truly want to help... be careful. The tension here is very high. One mistake, one wrong word, and everything could explode into violence. And if that happens..."
He didn't finish the sentence. He didn't need to. Through his Wenjing Realm, Li Yuan heard the unspoken fear in Daran's intention: If the violence starts, nothing will be able to stop it. And blood will be spilled on the land we have called home for two hundred years.
"I will be careful," Li Yuan promised with sincere simplicity.
Daran nodded and left, leaving Li Yuan alone in the quiet room.
Li Yuan sat in the silence, contemplating what he had learned.
Two communities, he mused. Different in almost every way—culture, values, language, way of life. Coexisting for two hundred years with a fragile peace. And now, because of a drought—something none of them could control—that peace is beginning to crumble.
They are looking for someone to blame. And they have found each other.
A classic story. A familiar tragedy.
But perhaps—if I can listen deeply enough, if I can help them see each other not as enemies but as human beings who are equally suffering—perhaps this story can have a different ending.
He closed his eyes, not to sleep—his consciousness body didn't need sleep—but to enter a light state of meditation.
Inside his Zhenjing, the still unnamed sapling of comprehension trembled with something vague. Something about... seeds? Transformation? He still couldn't grasp it clearly.
But there was something else he felt—the Sea of Souls within his consciousness, where millions of souls rested. They were still... growing. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, but real.
What are you trying to tell me? he asked in the internal silence.
There was no answer. Only a faint resonance—like an echo of something not yet ready to be articulated.
Li Yuan opened his eyes and looked out the window, at the sky that was slowly changing from afternoon blue to twilight purple.
Tomorrow, he mused with a quiet determination, I will begin to listen. Truly listen—not just to the words, but to the intentions, the fears, the hopes behind those words.
And perhaps—just perhaps—I can help them hear each other too.
Night fell over the Kael settlement, bringing with it a silence that was heavy with unresolved tension.
And Li Yuan sat in the darkness, waiting for dawn and whatever it would bring.