In the third week since the gathering in the city garden, the thing they feared finally happened. The plague reached Hexin.
Li Yuan stood at the doorway of the warehouse they had converted into an emergency care center, smelling a mix of herbs and... something else. Something that reminded him of the dark days on the battlefield, when the air was filled with the scent of death and despair.
But this time is different, Li Yuan realized, feeling his Understanding of the Body vibrate with a... brighter recognition. This time, there is hope. There is preparation. There is a community ready to care for one another.
"Qingshan," Madam Wang called from a corner of the room where she was preparing remedies, "can you help me with Uncle Liu? His fever came down a little last night, but his breathing is still heavy."
Li Yuan nodded, rolling up his sleeves. For the past two weeks, he had spent most of his time here—not as a physician or healer in the formal sense, but as... someone with a good intuition for what a sick person needed.
What they don't know, Li Yuan reflected, walking toward the simple cot where Uncle Liu—a traveling merchant who had become a part of the Hexin family—lay with shallow, irregular breaths, is that 'intuition' comes from three hundred years of spiritual experience and an Understanding of the Body that can feel every imbalance, every struggle, every need of a human physical system.
"Uncle Liu," Li Yuan said in a gentle voice, sitting on a small wooden stool beside the bed, "how are you feeling today?"
The old merchant's eyes opened slowly, still blurry from fever but showing recognition. "Qingshan... good boy... still... still here..."
"Of course I'm here." Li Yuan took a damp cloth and gently wiped the sweat from Uncle Liu's forehead. "We're all here for you."
And with a very subtle, almost unnoticeable movement, Li Yuan allowed the Understanding of the Body to flow through his touch. Not to perform a miracle healing that would expose his identity, but to... understand. To feel what was truly happening inside this body, and what could be done to help.
What Li Yuan found through that spiritual touch was... complex. The disease was indeed serious—assaulting the respiratory system and causing a high fever that drained the body's energy. But it wasn't fatal, at least not for people with a relatively strong immune system and proper care.
And thanks to the preparations they made, thanks to the herbal remedies that had been strengthening their bodies for weeks, the people here indeed had a better resistance than what happened in Yunshan.
"Uncle Liu," Li Yuan said, helping the old man sit up a little straighter, "I want you to breathe with me. Slowly, deeply."
Li Yuan began to breathe with a slow and deep rhythm, and instinctively Uncle Liu began to follow. This is a simple technique—nothing magical or suspicious about it. But combined with the Understanding of Breath flowing through Li Yuan's presence, it would help his respiratory system to relax and work more efficiently.
"Good," Li Yuan said after a few minutes of breathing together. "Now, I'll massage your chest and back a little. It will help loosen the congestion."
And this is where Li Yuan used the Understanding of the Body in its most subtle way. Li Yuan's touch would feel like a normal massage, but in reality, he was helping the energy flow within the body, helping the immune system to work more optimally, helping the natural healing process to accelerate in a way that was neither unnatural nor obvious.
When Li Yuan's hands touched Uncle Liu's chest and began to make gentle but precise massage movements, he could feel how the old body... responded. Not with a dramatic cure, but with a gradual relaxation. The tense muscles began to loosen. Breathing became a little easier. Blood circulation became a little smoother.
"Ah..." Uncle Liu let out a long breath, and Li Yuan could hear that the wheezing in his breathing had diminished. "It feels... it feels better..."
"That's good," Li Yuan smiled, continuing the massage with movements he had learned from observing human bodies for centuries, but applying them with a gentleness born from genuine care. "Your body is fighting the disease. Our job is to help your body do what it naturally wants to do."
And that's not a lie, Li Yuan realized. That's what Li Yuan was truly doing—not replacing the body's natural process, but supporting and enhancing what was already happening.
From the corner of his eye, Li Yuan could see Madam Wang watching with focused attention. The experienced woman must have noticed the improvement in Uncle Liu and was likely wondering why the simple technique Li Yuan was performing could be so effective.
But luckily, Li Yuan thought, continuing the massage, Madam Wang is a pragmatic person. As long as what Li Yuan was doing worked and didn't harm anyone, she wouldn't question the how or why too much.
"Qingshan," Sister Lin's voice from the entrance made Li Yuan turn, "a few more people have just arrived. A family from the village to the north. They... they don't look very well."
Li Yuan felt something familiar—a sense of responsibility mixed with anticipation. More people who needed help. More opportunities to use the gifts Li Yuan had to serve.
"Alright," he said, giving Uncle Liu one last touch and helping the old man lie back down. "Rest well, Uncle. Drink the remedy Madam Wang gives you every three hours. And remember the breathing technique we just practiced."
"Thank you, good boy," Uncle Liu whispered, his voice already sounding stronger than it had half an hour ago. "I don't know what would have happened to us all without you..."
They would have been fine, Li Yuan was certain, walking toward the entrance. Maybe it would have been harder, maybe it would have taken longer, but this community has strength and resilience. Li Yuan was just... helping them access the strength they already had.
The new family consisted of a middle-aged couple with three children—two teenagers and a boy about ten years old. They all showed early signs of the disease: a mild fever, a cough, exhaustion.
But they came early, Li Yuan observed while helping them settle in the prepared area. Before the disease had truly advanced. That means a much better prognosis.
"Thank you for taking us in," the father of the family said, helping his wife sit on a simple bed. "We heard that Hexin... that you all don't close your doors to refugees."
"Of course not," Sister Lin answered, bringing bowls of warm water and clean towels. "We are all human. In a situation like this, we help each other."
And I can feel, Li Yuan observed, using the Understanding of Existence to sense the emotional state of this family, that they are not just physically ill, but also traumatized. They have seen traumatic things in their village. They need healing not just for their bodies, but also for their souls.
"Children," Li Yuan approached the three children who sat huddled together with a... lost expression. "You must be so tired after a long journey."
The smallest boy looked at him with big, fearful eyes. "Are... are we going to die like Grandpa?"
Oh, Li Yuan felt something like a knife in his heart. They have already lost someone. They have seen death up close.
Li Yuan knelt so their eyes were level. "No, you're not going to die. You've reached a safe place now. And there are many people here who will help you get better."
And to prove my words, I allowed the Understanding of Existence to flow with a gentle warmth—not for manipulation, but to provide genuine reassurance. To help these children feel that they are truly safe and cared for.
The effect wasn't immediate, but Li Yuan could see how the children's shoulders slowly relaxed a little. How they began to breathe a little easier.
"Mister," the older girl—maybe around fifteen—said in a careful voice, "is it true that the medicines here... work? We heard that not many people in Hexin have died."
"That's true," Li Yuan answered while helping the little boy drink some water. "It's not because we have a magic cure, but because we've been prepared for weeks. We have remedies that help the body fight the disease, and more importantly, we have a system for taking good care of the sick."
And because I am here, though they don't know it, helping in ways they can't see or understand.
That afternoon, Li Yuan found himself moving from one bed to another, providing a combination of practical care and spiritual support that was... balanced. He massaged an old grandmother's back to help her breathing. He taught a young father relaxation techniques whose anxiety was making his symptoms worse. He sat with a little girl who was afraid to fall asleep, providing a calming presence until she finally could rest.
Every touch, every word, every moment of presence, I infused with spiritual energy—but in a way so subtle it felt like extraordinarily good bedside manner, not supernatural intervention.
What was most interesting to Li Yuan was how he learned to... calibrate his spiritual assistance based on what each person needed. For the pragmatic and straightforward Uncle Liu, he focused on physical comfort and clear instructions. For the traumatized children, he gave extra emotional reassurance. For the parents worried about their family, he helped them find a sense of agency and hope.
This was the simultaneous application of all my understandings—Body for physical healing, Existence for emotional stability, Silence for a peaceful presence, Breath for respiratory support, Wrapping for protecting them from being overwhelmed...
And most importantly, Memory—to help them remember that they were once healthy, that they had reasons to survive, that there was a life worth living after this crisis ended.
That night, when most of the patients were asleep and Li Yuan could finally go out for some fresh air, he found Sister Lin sitting on a wooden bench outside the warehouse, looking at the stars with a... thoughtful expression.
"Qingshan," she said without turning, "sit for a moment."
Li Yuan sat beside her, feeling a strange... exhaustion. Not a physical one—his spiritual body didn't experience fatigue like a normal one. But an emotional exhaustion from absorbing so much pain and suffering, even while helping to alleviate it.
This is the cost of caring deeply, he realized. The more love you give, the more pain you feel when you see the people you love suffering.
"How are you feeling?" Sister Lin asked.
Li Yuan was silent for a moment, processing the question. "Tired. Sad. But also... grateful. Grateful that we could help. Grateful that the situation isn't as bad as it could have been."
"You know," Sister Lin said in a soft voice, "for the past two weeks, I've been watching the way you work with the sick. And there's something... special about it."
Li Yuan felt a moment of alertness. Was I too obvious?
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, people recover faster when you care for them. Not miraculously—it still takes a few days or a week. But they're like... calmer. More hopeful. And for some reason, their symptoms never become as severe as what's happening elsewhere."
Danger, the cautious part of Li Yuan whispered. She's starting to notice patterns that could lead to difficult questions.
But a larger part of him—the part that had learned to trust this community—felt something different. Maybe it's time to... not reveal everything, but at least acknowledge that there's something I can offer that is beyond the normal.
"Sister Lin," he said carefully, "on my travels before I came to Hexin, I learned many things. From physicians, from wise old people, from... difficult experiences. Maybe I have a better intuition than the average person for what a sick person needs."
Not a lie, he justified. Just... an incomplete truth.
Sister Lin looked at him with searching eyes. "Intuition?"
"Something like that. An ability to... sense what someone needs. Whether they need physical comfort, or emotional support, or just someone who will sit with them without judgment."
Sister Lin nodded slowly. "That is a precious gift. Especially in times like these."
Relief, Li Yuan felt. She accepted the explanation without pressing for more complex details.
"Sister Lin," he said after a moment of silence, "what's happening to our community during this crisis... do you think we will come out of this as a stronger community?"
Sister Lin followed his gaze toward the warehouse where twenty people were resting, cared for by volunteers from all corners of Hexin. "I think... I think this crisis is showing us who we really are when everything is stripped away to the essentials. And it turns out, we are people who care for one another."
And perhaps, Li Yuan thought, feeling the night wind carry the scent of herbs and... something cleaner, something more hopeful, that is the best legacy any crisis can leave behind—not trauma or fear, but a deeper understanding of the human capacity for goodness.
"Qingshan," Sister Lin said in a softer voice, "I want to thank you. Not just for what you're doing for the sick, but for... for the way you've helped our community find a strength we didn't know we had."
The invisible leader, Li Yuan reflected on the phrase that seemed to have been floating in his consciousness all day. Not a leader in the traditional sense—not one who gives orders or makes decisions for others. But someone who helps a community discover and express its own best qualities.
"I'm just doing what anyone could do," Li Yuan answered with genuine sincerity.
"No," Sister Lin shook her head with gentle firmness. "Not everyone can do what you do. Not everyone has a... presence that helps others feel safe and hopeful even in difficult circumstances."
And in my heart, Li Yuan reflected, feeling the subtle tremor of his fourteen understandings resonate with appreciation for the trust and recognition Sister Lin gave him, I realized that this was the most meaningful form of validation—not recognition for spectacular power or achievement, but recognition for service that was gentle and consistent.
Service born from love, sustained by wisdom, and expressed through simple human caring.
That night, when Li Yuan finally returned to his small home in Harmony Alley, he sat in his courtyard, sipping the herbal tea and feeling... something complex. The exhaustion of intensive caregiving, the satisfaction of seeing people recover, the gratitude for the trust the community had given him, and underneath it all, a sense of purpose deeper than anything he had ever felt in three hundred years of spiritual seeking.
Becoming an invisible leader, he realized, isn't about hiding power or denying capabilities. It's about using that power and those capabilities in a way that serves others' growth and empowerment, rather than creating dependency or awe.
And perhaps that is the highest form of spiritual mastery—not the ability to display impressive power, but the ability to channel that power into service so natural and unobtrusive that others feel they themselves are becoming stronger, wiser, more capable.
True leadership, in other words, is about creating more leaders, not more followers.