The first people aboard the flagship were medics.
They carried stretchers past Xuan Ming’s broken throne and treated the nearest injured judges without asking their ranks. Mortal workers followed with grounding rods, emergency lights, and lists of cabins still losing pressure.
Xuan sat in his true form, an old man beside a bent golden staff. His great avatar had vanished when the engines failed.
Austin entered with Bai Ze. He did not bow, and he did not strike the fallen judge.
“Can you walk?” Austin asked.
Xuan looked up. “Is this where you demand my soul?”
“No. This is where I find out whether you need a stretcher.”
Xuan refused medical help until Bai Ze told him to stop wasting the medic’s time.
