Chapter Seventy-One: Making Arrangements for the Aftermath

Chapter Seventy-One: Final Arrangements

He bowed carefully, with utmost respect.

“Did the other party mention who he was?”

“No, he said nothing at all. After I drove him away a few times, he simply left.”

The man sitting on the meditation mat rose, pacing back and forth a few steps. Suddenly, he produced several small objects resembling tortoise shells and cast them onto the ground.

The tiny tortoise shells landed and formed a strange pattern.

The man immediately bent down, his eyes fixed intently on the shells.

“How odd, how very odd.”

The young Daoist beside him was puzzled.

“Master, what’s wrong?”

“This man is shrouded in mystery. I can’t divine his origins at all.”

He furrowed his brow, sensing that the matter was not so simple. After a moment’s thought, he threw the shells again, muttering incantations under his breath—this time, something seemed different from before.

As his gaze fell upon the scattered shells, his eyes widened suddenly. Yet, just as he bent down to pick up one of them, abruptly—

Crack!

With a sharp sound, one of the little shells split open.

The man’s expression grew increasingly grave. The young Daoist beside him was also seized by fear.

“Xiao Miao, do you remember what that person looked like?” he asked the disciple.

“Of course I remember,” the young Daoist replied quickly.

“Good.” He nodded, gathering the broken shells in his hand, his mind distant. Glancing up at the sky, he noted how dark clouds were gathering, the heavens growing steadily gloomier. “If I am no longer here, remember: find that man and stay by his side. Help him.”

The young Daoist did not understand, but tears welled in his eyes at his master’s words.

“Master, what are you saying? Don’t talk nonsense.”

“Alas, what must come will come.” The Daoist said no more, merely sighing deeply.

In that instant, his face seemed to age several years. Step by step, he stared at the fractured shells in his hand, lost in thought.

Xiao Miao dared not disturb him, and silently withdrew.

...

Thud!

Shen An’s foot landed from one rocky outcrop to the next.

He moved swiftly, each time unerringly finding his footing.

Ahead, the underbrush was clear to Shen An’s eyes.

Winding through the boulders, he evaded the crowd, gradually heading in a specific direction. His gaze was vigilant, fixed on the path before him.

Until—

A scream of agony rang out.

He paused, activating his penetrating vision.

The scream came from one of the tourists. As he moved with the group, a large rock, for reasons unknown, suddenly tumbled down from above, crushing his leg. Judging by the injury, the leg was broken.

Of course, his wounds were not the worst.

Looking at the others, Shen An saw that some, unable to avoid the falling rocks, were pinned beneath, covered in blood—breaths shallow, life slipping away.

Shen An closed his eyes for a moment, the grim scene weighing upon him.

He looked up, his eyes tracking several figures higher up the slope.

One man fled in panic, two others in hot pursuit, their commotion dislodging the previously stable rocks.

Frowning, Shen An quickened his pace and appeared before the pinned man.

With little effort, he lifted the stone away, not pausing to note the man’s shocked expression.

He looked at the near-dead tourist, his face composed.

Shen An channeled some energy into the man’s body, withdrawing once he saw him breathing again, then moved on to another spot.

“Help me, help me!”

“Over here—someone’s trapped!”

Hearing the cries, Shen An hurried over.

A woman, holding a small red flag, lay beneath a stone, only her head free. Blood streamed from a wound on her scalp, staining her hair.

“She’s barely holding on—someone help me lift this stone!”

A young tourist, unscathed thanks to his quick reflexes, shouted anxiously for help.

“Brother, give me a hand, let’s save her!” Seeing Shen An approach, the youth called out.

Without a word, Shen An lifted the stone alone, tossing it aside before the other could help.

The young man watched in terror and awe, sensing something unusual, but said nothing, his gaze never leaving Shen An.

“Thank you,” the female tour guide whispered weakly, recognizing Shen An as he freed her.

“He’s dying—please, save him,” said the man who had been watching Shen An closely.

He knew Shen An was no ordinary person.

Without hesitation, Shen An infused energy into the guide as well.

“Tear some clothing for bandages. Help stop the bleeding. Go check the others—tend to any wounds you find.”

Though he had preserved their lives, Shen An knew prolonged blood loss could still be fatal.

The man obeyed without delay, moving to dress wounds as told.

Shen An continued, saving all those with severe injuries, imparting energy to the brink of death.

Of the seven or eight wounded, he pulled four from the very edge.

When all was done—

“Thank you. One day, I want to be like you.”

With the immediate crisis over, all that remained was to await the arrival of ambulances.

“Power can save lives, but it can also kill. You may not like it as much as you think,” Shen An replied, his eyes already scanning the slopes above.

“I know, but I want to save people like you do.” The young man’s eyes shone with admiration.

“You’re searching for the ones who caused this?” he asked, noticing Shen An’s restless gaze.

“The ambulances are here. Stay and help—I must go,” said Shen An.

Before the young man could react, Shen An had already vanished, reappearing on the mountainside above—a sight that left the youth awestruck and longing.

“Stop running. You’re burning your life away—there’s no more blood to spare. Wang Yuan, why won’t you stop?”

The two behind drew closer.

“Stop? If I stop, will you let me go?” Wang Yuan laughed bitterly to himself, but could not speak.

His throat was parched and raw, burning as if aflame.

Suddenly, exhausted beyond measure, he stumbled over a stone and fell hard to the ground.

He tried to rise, but his body, finally giving out, refused to obey.

He struggled, but could not get up.

“It’s over,” Wang Yuan thought bitterly. If he had known this would happen, he would have accepted Shen An’s proposal without hesitation.

Now, it was far too late for regrets.

“What’s this? Done running?”

The two pursuers, their hatred boiling after such a long chase, strode up and kicked Wang Yuan.

“If you want to kill me, then do it.”