"Sir, help us..."
A ragged woman, clutching a small child, stumbled into the camp.
The child’s arm was crushed to pieces, the wound blackened and oozing foul-slling pus.
"Mom, it hurts, it hurts so much!" The child’s hoarse, shrill cries drew the gaze of onlookers.
"There’s no dicine left at the camp over there, please, save my son, he’s only six, please sir, save my child..."
The woman knelt before the healer, her forehead banging "bang bang" against the ground, already bloody and bruised, but she seed entirely unaware.
The healers, busy tending to the wounded, only glanced her way before silently looking away.
Their eyes held so pity, but more so indifference.
They had seen this situation far too many tis.
Though the court had distributed loads of dicine and diverted supplies from the city’s pharmacy, most were ointnts for external injuries.
If it was rely broken bones or severed limbs, it wasn’t terrifying. As long as the bleeding was stopped, a life might be saved.
The fear was when wounds beca infected and toxins entered the bloodstream, damaging the organs, which was the main cause of many civilian deaths.
This child’s wound area was too extensive, having developed into gangrene. Coupled with his young age and weak resistance, it was highly likely to lead to septicemia.
To survive, either a Jade Dispersing Spirit Pill was needed or a healer of Fourth Rank or above.
Given the current circumstances, neither was realistic.
Rather than wasting resources on those dood, it was better to save others who stood a chance.
Bang, bang, bang—
The woman continued kowtowing, blood staining the ground dark red, her voice endlessly pleading, "Save my son, I beg you, save my son..."
Deep down, she knew the fate her child faced, but as a mother, she had to do sothing—as if the physical pain might slightly ease her guilt.
Being powerless was also a kind of guilt.
She used this thod to punish herself.
In her subconscious, a thought of despair lurked: the house was gone, her family lost, the future bleak—if she perished like this, might it be a release?
As she banged her head harder, a pair of gentle hands held her steady, a soft voice whispering in her ear:
"Let take a look, okay?"
The woman looked up, dazed, her vision obscured by blood.
There stood a woman in a red gauze dress before her, her beauty indescribable. Though clearly fatigued, she wore a gentle smile, saying again, "May I see your child?"
"Okay..."
The woman, snapping to, hurriedly placed the child on the ground.
Yu Hongyin closed her eyes slightly, forming a Dharma Seal with her hands, as a wispy gray energy enveloped the shattered limb.
The crying child quickly quieted, and as the gray energy dissipated, the festering wound miraculously began to heal.
"It’s healed! Truly healed!"
"Thank you, Fairy, for saving my son’s life!"
The woman bowed in ecstasy.
Yu Hongyin looked grave, her lips moving as if to speak but hesitating.
"Actually, he..."
Before she could finish, the surrounding crowd sward her.
"Save my mother, please, she’s barely holding on!"
"Save my child first, if the Fairy is willing, I’ll do anything!"
"Don’t push, I was here first..."
Yu Hongyin, unused to such a scene, was montarily at a loss.
But just then, the newly cald child began to cough violently.
Suddenly, he spat out a mouthful of blood, his face as pale as paper, clearly unable to last much longer.
"Zhuo’er?!"
The woman exclaid, swaying on her feet.
In monts, she plumted from hope to despair, nearly fainting.
"I’m sorry, he’s been struggling too long, his organs have begun to fail..." Yu Hongyin explained softly.
The crowd instantly quieted, their eager expressions turning cold, leaving without hesitation, murmuring about wasted hope.
In the air lingered the woman’s mournful weeping.
Yu Hongyin stood with her head bowed, motionless as a statue.
Qiao Tong, having settled his patients, approached, saying, "Holy Daughter, you’ve done your best. Knowing his condition was dire, beyond saving, why push yourself so?"
On the day of the explosion, the two had been in the city.
They imdiately offered aid, rescuing trapped civilians.
After stabilizing the city, they moved to the temporary outpost outside to help, sleepless for days, treating over a hundred patients.
The Spiritual Marrow and Alchemy Pills they carried had long been exhausted, and both their spirits and bodies were at their limits.
Yet it was never enough.
"If only I were a bit stronger..."
Yu Hongyin clenched her fists tightly, nails digging into her palms.
Every ti a vibrant life slipped away before her, she loathed her own weakness deeply.
Qiao Tong sighed softly.
The Holy Daughter wasn’t always so compassionate, but since returning from the Southern Border, her deanor had changed slightly.
Witnessing so many lives perished at the hands of Blood Demon Fu Li, and given the inextricable ties to the Netherworld Sect, as the sect’s saintess, she bore a lingering guilt.
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