It took a surprisingly short time, to Sen’s mind, for the generals and cultivators to organize themselves. Once inside the city, it was a simple enough matter for Sen, the Matriarch, and Xu Xiao Dan, former Patriarch of the Clear Spring Sect, to direct the rescue efforts. They had largely asked for the assistance of cultivators with an affinity for earth qi, since they had the best chance of safely rescuing anyone that might be trapped beneath rubble. The mortal soldiers were sent out with them to reassure the survivors. Not that Sen necessarily expected them to react to cultivators with hostility, but there was no way to be certain. He wanted to help these people, not cause them more harm if some cultivator’s pride got wounded.

Even with the cultivators and soldiers spreading out through the city, it was slow work. The survivors, what few of them there were, often needed to be coaxed out of their hiding places. Those were the ones who were well enough to move. Sen saw more than one emaciated mortal being pulled out of rubble. He had to assume they’d survived by eating whatever got close enough and drinking whatever snow managed to melt. There were even a few cultivators. They looked almost as bad as the mortals, although Sen suspected that was for different reasons. He dropped to the ground the beckoned the small group over. A quick look told him that the people he was hoping to see weren’t there. Still, these people might have some information.

“I am seeking news of Hu Deming or Hu Li Na,” he told them. “They’re brother and sister. They’re cultivators and lived here, or they did when I saw them last.”

Sen wished now that he’d paid more attention to what sect they belonged to. It hadn’t seemed important at the time. There were a great many things he wished he’d paid more attention to as he traveled. Like the name of that little girl with the absurd dragon toy that looked nothing like a dragon. He couldn’t even recall the names of her parents. Now, he’d give almost anything for that information, let alone news of their fates. The cultivators traded looks that made Sen’s heart sink a little before one of them stepped forward.

“I know them, Lord Lu,” said the man.

He was lean and bore that same haunted look as the few remaining disciples from the Order.

“Do you know if they were here during the attack? If they survived?”

Sen didn’t even know why this was so important to him. There had only been a brief conversation before he’d gone on his way. They weren’t family. They weren’t even friends. Despite all of that, he needed to know.

“No, Lord Lu. They weren’t here. They left to become wandering cultivators several years ago.”

“They did? Did they say why? Or where they might go?”

The man cocked his head to one side like he didn’t quite understand the questions.

“The reason—” started the man before trailing off.

“Yes?” asked Sen.

“They said that they were doing it because of you, Lord Lu.”

“Me?”

“They spoke of sowing karma.”

Sen did recall saying something about sowing good karma to them, but he’d never expected them to become wandering cultivators. Yet, as he looked around, he wondered if he’d inadvertently saved their lives. Then again, I might have simply cost them their lives somewhere else, he thought. Whatever their fates, he doubted that he’d learn of it here. He nodded to the man before repeating his most pressing question.

“Did they say where they meant to go?”

“They spoke of Emperor’s Bay, but I don’t know if they went there.”

“Thank you,” said Sen. “I don’t know what plans you might have. I expect that you’ve already seen more fighting and death than you want to see, but you’re welcome to join with us.”

The cultivators traded looks again, but there was significantly more uncertainty on their faces at that.

“I don’t need an answer now,” continued Sen. “We must see to the injured mortals. I expect that will keep us occupied the rest of the day. Think it over. If you want to come with us, be at the army camp in the morning.”

There was a tentative round of, “Yes, Lord Lu.”

With that, Sen rose into the air and resumed searching for signs of life in the destroyed buildings with his spiritual sense. From time to time, he would step it to move particularly precarious rubble that required managing dozens of individual pieces of stone or wood. He tried to be happy that there were survivors at all, but the numbers were painfully few. No one had told him the exact number, but he estimated that there weren’t more than a hundred people left out of a place that had likely held thousands before the attack. Unwilling to dwell on that somber fact, he turned his attention to the most grievously injured.

Sen found it grimly ironic that those cases in particular were challenging for both the mortal healers that the army employed, as well as the alchemists from the sects. For the former, the damage was too challenging. Anything they might do was as likely to kill the injured as help them. For the sect alchemists, the problem was an inability to formulate potions, elixirs, or pills of the correct potency. Something that left Sen wholly unimpressed with exactly all of them. As he worked, though, he couldn’t help but remember those desperate hours trying to save Luo Ping.

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That event had seared itself into his memory in a way that so many other things hadn’t. Every time he found himself trying to save a mortal’s life, he compared what he was doing in the present to what he had done then. Then, he would shudder at the horrifying ignorance of his younger self. It served as a firm reminder that he might well still be ignorant of many important truths about what alchemy was and what it could do. It also allowed him to see just how far he’d actually come. That younger version of himself might, might, have been able to save a few of the injured people they’d found, but not all of them. He would have lacked the knowledge, the skill, and the precision he employed so casually now.

All things that left him surrounded by alchemists who watched with expressions of wonder, of awe, of jealousy, and even one or two of hate. Expressions that he ignored. He simply worked, crafting elixirs designed to provide exactly the amount and kind of healing that each person needed. Some were designed to work over a matter of hours, while others were made to work over days. He explained in detail to the mortal healers what they should expect from each person as the elixirs worked on them. Then, when the work was done, he stepped outside the tent and was surprised to find that it was night.

Sen could hear the alchemists and mortals whispering to each other inside. They bandied about words that he’d heard all too often before. Words like impossible

, genius, and miracle. Unable or, if he was being honest with himself, unwilling to endure the inevitable questions those alchemists would ask, he used a qi platform to fly over the ruins of the city. He sat down on the platform. Perhaps it was having been flooded with old memories, but he fell into an old meditative practice. He sought to still his mind.

So many thoughts and concerns vied for his attention. As each one surfaced, he forced himself to acknowledge it without engaging with it. Thoughts about the war, about the dead, and about the situation back in the capital tried to force him to pay attention. Thoughts about Ai were the hardest thing for him. He actually wanted to think about her, despite the terrible, confusing mixture of guilt, sadness, and joy they brought him. Even those thoughts he let sink away until all that remained was a smooth, unbroken surface as polished as a mirror. Only then did he let his spiritual sense extend around him.

It was the lightest of touches on the world below. He wasn’t seeking anything. The troubles here had come and gone. He just wanted to feel connected to the earth below without the thunder of a thousand competing troubles to disquiet his heart. The camp outside the remains of the city glowed in that spiritual sense, lit up by the life of so many mortals and cultivators. In comparison, the ruins below were a well of darkness. However, it was that very darkness and the stillness inside of him that allowed him to see what he and so many others had missed. There was still a life hanging by the slenderest of threads. He had probably dismissed it as an animal before, but he saw more clearly now.

Sen’s eyes snapped open. It only took moments to cover the distance between where he had been floating and that flickering life he felt. He didn’t bother clearing away the rubble or debris. His power plunged down like the hand of a god to wrap that trembling life in a cocoon that would have survived inside the heart of a volcano. He lifted his actual hand, and that cocoon rose out of the dirt, stone, wood, and ash. Cradled in that power was a sight that made Sen simultaneously want to weep and go on a killing spree.

A child. A child who was so bloodied and broken that he didn’t even know how they could still be alive. All he knew was that Ai had been that small when he’d found her. He didn’t even dare to carry that limp form in his arms for fear that he would snuff out their last, flickering embers of life. He shot back toward the camp and stormed into the healers’ tent.

“Get out!” he ordered, unwilling to risk even the slightest distraction.

All of the healers and alchemists froze, staring at him in shock. That lasted until the child floated in behind him.

“Lord Lu—” someone started to say.

“Now!” bellowed Sen.

The barest touch of his killing intent landed on the people who weren’t doing what he wanted. There was a brief stampede as everyone fled the tent in terror. Never had Sen been so grateful for the way advancement had improved his mind. It let him simultaneously examine the child still held in a cocoon of his power, set up half a dozen cauldrons and his battered pot, light fires beneath them all, and summon what he needed from his storage rings. There wouldn’t be a single elixir for this child. That truly would bring a swift and tragic end to their story. Sen’s hands flew as he simultaneously managed elixirs in all of the cauldrons and his pot, modifying them as he went to adjust their potency in time with what his examination was telling him the child could bear. He was racing against time. He was racing against death.

“I couldn’t save the rest of them,” he told the child, “but I will save you.”

The first elixir was the easiest, but also the most important. He’d made something similar to help Jing when he’d been fading away. It was an elixir that would help to rekindle the fire of life inside the child. He poured it slowly, a few dribbles at a time, into the child’s mouth, fearful that anything more would choke them. It happened slowly. Anyone without his experience and furious focus would have found it nearly imperceptible, but it was happening. He could feel it as their heartbeat, which had been irregular, became steadier. The child’s blood that had been moving so sluggishly began to flow more freely.

Sen watched this all with his qi and spiritual sense as he continued making the elixirs he knew he would need. It might have been happening at a glacial pace, but it should be enough by the time the next elixir was ready. His biggest relief was how unlikely it was that the child would wake for any of this. What was coming next would be painful, and more pain was the last thing this child needed. The next elixir was one to begin repairing tissues. He would have preferred to start with the bones, but he needed to stop any bleeding inside or out. The elixir would also start repairing organs.

On and on it went, one weak elixir after another. One helped to ensure that nothing remained too swollen. One helped to cleanse the toxins that built up in the blood and tissues when someone was injured. Another helped to supply the body with the things it needed to continue the repairs. It wasn’t as good as food, but Sen wanted as many of the most painful parts completed before the child woke. Time ceased to have any meaning for him as he worked. The moment finally came for the bone elixir. He’d already prepared fresh elixirs to heal the inevitable tissue injuries that would come with the next part.

Sen had to steel himself when the child let out weak, pitiable cries as he set their bones. Perhaps in an act of divine mercy, whether for him or the child he’d never know, the child seemed to lose consciousness. He slowly dripped the bone elixir into their mouth. Then, he waited and watched like a hawk as the bones began to fuse back together. When enough time passed, he gave the child the final elixir to heal tissues. It was jarring for him. Everything up to that moment had been frantic action after frantic action. Now, there was nothing to do but wait. So, the king of the land sat on a bed next to a tiny figure and waited.

Hours passed in tense silence before the child blinked open their eyes. The confusion in them was clear, but they focused a bit when they saw him sitting there.

“Who are you?” asked a tremulous little voice.

Sen smiled gently and said, “You can call me Uncle Sen.”