A Yan: "Teacher, will he die?"
The old man laid a hand over the man's Dantian, trying to use his own literary energy to stir the man's Literary Heart. But the man's injuries were severe, his meridians and Dantian weak and limp, and even his Literary Heart had grown listless. The old man sighed. "It's in Heaven's hands. I can't say."
A Yan pressed his lips together, looking somewhat disappointed.
The old man consoled him. "Still, since he was the first person A Yan saved, perhaps Heaven will show mercy."
A Yan's eyes brightened a little. "It will?"
"Of course."
He stripped the man down to his underwear, then sent A Yan to fetch the medicine chest from the carriage. Inside were piles of bottles and jars, each labeled with its specific use. A Yan was learning martial arts and was bound to get banged up, so they had come prepared with a full supply of medicine.
Seeing the wounds swollen and rotting after being soaked in the river, the old man dug a knife out of the bottom of the medicine chest. He cut away the dead flesh, applied medicine, fed the man medicine, set his bones, bandaged him, then carried him to the carriage.
By the time he had finished, dusk had fallen. A Yan couldn't help much, so he went into the water several times to drag the other bodies ashore. Like the man, they had suffered multiple broken bones and other injuries from their fall.
Some had half their heads chopped off; others had their throats slit or their hearts pierced. They had probably encountered the same band of villains.
"I've done all I can. The rest is up to you—whether you can get King Yama to show mercy and spare your life depends on you."