A few silent moments passed after I was left alone in my room, the sudden void where the Ancient One had been almost as startling as her appearance. Then, a profound sigh of relief escaped me, the tension in my body relaxing, replaced by a strange sense of unreality.
The encounter, as bewildering as it was, solidified one thing: The current Sorcerer Supreme, Lady Yao, was definitely not my enemy, nor was she someone I stood a ghost of a chance against. Honestly, I felt the entire situation was way out of my league.
Though, who calls themselves Ancient One? I mean, she might be old—not like I could tell—but it felt like a baby-faced old man naming himself 'Old Man' just to emphasize his seniority.
Shaking away my weird, almost comical thoughts, I focused on the cryptic words the Ancient One had left behind. Gradually, my composure returned, sharpened by the urgency in her tone. An in-depth dive into my fragmented memories, a frantic skimming through the future I now carried, made me realize what that ominous warning was probably about.
I was reminded of the promise I had made to Danny, a promise he had reminded me of with his dying breath before he sacrificed his life, ensuring I had the greatest opportunity to succeed. To try and save his family if I did time travel successfully. A try—that was all he asked for, a desperate plea for a chance at a different fate. And a try he would have, with everything I had.
"If I lack time," I muttered to myself, the realization hitting me with a cold certainty, "it means their flight has probably already departed."
Not deciding to test the punctuality words of someone who could figure out my time travel, predict my meeting with her 25 years ago—a decade and a half before I was even born—and seemingly figured out what I was going to say by apparently looking into the future in real-time while talking to me, I hurriedly started my preparations. This was no longer just about business; it was a rescue mission.
I booked the closest flight that would take me to Tibet, the region closest to their last known location, giving me barely an hour to reach the airport. I made a frantic call to my company office, a quick, authoritative directive for them to prepare an urgent visa for me.
Quickly, I picked up a small bag, stuffing in some emergency cash, my passport, and my various cards. My laptop, my lifeline to the resources I would need, was shoved in too. Since I was going to be in the mountains, I also took a few precious injections of the healing serum made by my parents and their experimental nutrition solutions, hoping they would prove useful in a pinch.
I scribbled a hasty note for my family, explaining nothing, just that I had an urgent matter. Then, I climbed down the window, hailed a cab, and sped towards the airport.
By the time the taxi screeched to a halt, I had already received an email containing my newly processed visa. I paid the driver, checked in at the airport, and quickly boarded my flight. Though there was a minor argument with an air hostess who tried to look for my guardians, I managed to fool her with a practiced, innocent look and got past it quickly.
After a transit stop, I finally reached Tibet, the thin, cold air biting at my exposed skin. I booked a cab to the nearest rescue station. After an hour-long drive, with a few stops in the middle to buy warmer clothes for myself and a face mask to blend in, I reached the rescue center.
I was thinking of a plan in my mind on how to convince them to send a rescue team to find Danny and his family when an announcement quickly poured cold water all over my carefully laid plans, sending them down the drain. The voice crackled over the intercom:
"Attention, all personnel. Due to the high probability of a severe snowstorm during the next two days, all people are advised to stay away from the mountains. I repeat—" The announcement kept repeating, a monotonous, grim warning.
I quickly found a uniformed man standing nearby, his face tired. "When was this announcement issued?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady.
"A little over a day ago," he replied, barely sparing me a glance. "Are you looking for someone, Boy?"
"Yes," I confirmed, trying to sound as innocent and concerned as possible. "Have all the teams returned? Are there no more searches planned for the mountains?"
"Yes, all teams are back. The last group returned about an hour ago, registering inside now. Everyone who signed in for mountain activity has been accounted for. There's no one left out there. If the person you are looking for hasn't arrived, they're probably already inside."
Shit, I cursed silently. There's no way they're going to listen to me to go for a rescue now. They'll just dismiss me as a confused kid.
I walked to a nearby restaurant, ordered myself something to eat, and tried to think. I can't just stay here and do nothing. Danny's family is still out there. And I finally came to the grim conclusion: If I couldn't convince the rescue center to send someone, I would have to go there myself.
So, I finished my meal, pulled up my new face mask to cover my distinctive features, and re-entered the bustling rescue center. I learned one thing very quickly during the time I spent walking around: no one questions the presence of a child. They just assume things, make up their own stories in their heads about why you're there, which was great for me as I didn't have to come up with convoluted ways to outsmart them.