A second. She'd been a second too late.
Ying, for all her speed, had been distracted. She curses herself as she runs to Fang, watch lighting up just as she crouches beside him. "Ying," he grits out, eyes squinting through the pain, "I - I'm fine, go help the others." Idly, she notices how bright the net is.
"I'm not leaving you here," she says, tone incredulous. Ying reaches out to help him but stops when he makes a sound of protest. "Don't," Fang hisses, shuddering as he tries to free himself. "It's - it does something t- aghrk," he whimpers, and Ying starts to panic at the way he struggles, "To t-the watches."
"Fang - "
"Go, Ying."
Her eyes harden at that.
"No."
And before the other can protest, she wraps her mind around the power inside her and tugs. "Time manipulation," she mutters, and weaves the field around him, "Slow-mo power." Ying watches Fang's eyes widen before time catches up with him and slows down.
She starts to work.
She tugs at the net covering him, grunting when it gets stuck. Ying makes sure to pull away when she feels an odd tingle on her arm, knowing the it's the net trying to catch her. She keeps her mind on the task and tries not to think about repercussions, tries not to imagine what Fang is feeling.
She isn't a miracle worker. Of all the times she's done this before, it was never on someone who was already suffering. The key is in the name: slow motion. Her watch isn't stopping time, and it isn't stopping pain. Fang is drawing the short end here, but Ying is going to save him.
And she is willing to pay the price.