EDEH Chapter 128

“City-wide surveillance monitoring—” 007 said, “Target not detected yet.”

“Maybe avoiding surveillance.” An officer said quietly, “But when the notification went out, we were all at the research institute. How did this Sang Jue get advance warning to escape?”

“General Huo must have his own information channels and notified him.”

“But General Huo didn’t seem like he wanted to protect him…”

Sang Jue wasn’t a traditional monster, so those present were fairly accepting of his intimate relationship with Huo Yanji.

After all, most hadn’t seen Sang Jue’s evil dragon side, instead remembering his beautiful, pure appearance more vividly, with relatively weak feelings of hatred.

Ling Gen’s face darkened: “Stop wildly speculating. When Sang Jue heard this audio yesterday, he probably guessed the outcome and ran early. General Huo might not have known.”

The old general watched the slightly trembling Lillian and asked: “Do you know what the door is?”

Liao Te’s arm tightened. Though silent, his protective stance was obvious.

“I don’t know…” Lillian said slowly, “but I have some feeling that I seem to have been to that special place too…”

The old general frowned: “Special place?”

Lillian’s silver eyelashes trembled slightly: “It seemed like… like passing through a place that was the only warmth underground, like soaking in hot springs. Though only for a short time, but…”

Her pupils began to go vacant, as if recalling. It was a comfort hard to express—if she had to describe it, it might be like the feeling of an embryo soaking in the mother’s body.

Then her voice began to tremble: “But immediately after, dense vines, monsters with slender limbs, sticky web-like objects followed one after another, intending to assimilate me…”

The three words “assimilate me” were very soft, scattering like wind between her lips.

Everyone looked at each other, all somewhat puzzled.

From the audio received so far, underground shouldn’t have any special environments. Such specific environments like vines and web-like objects weren’t mentioned in any audio, not even in Ivan’s diary.

When they just heard Dr. Millie say this in the audio, everyone assumed it was hallucinations after mental breakdown.

As for her talk of mental contamination, they didn’t take it seriously. ‘Mind’ was already an abstract concept—something invisible and intangible, how could it be contaminated?

Everyone unconsciously understood it as fear from traveling too long in darkness, psychological inability to bear it.

Moreover, in such deep underground places, oxygen content was scarce, making it difficult for creatures to survive… though since the collapse, many things couldn’t be reasoned by common sense.

But if Lillian said the same thing, even if hallucinations, would identical scenes appear?

Eugene boldly speculated: “Your physical condition—is it possible you were contaminated in that place?”

Lillian said softly: “I don’t know.”

Hill watched Lillian for a long time, then suddenly said: “I want to do a genetic test on you.”

She didn’t say polite phrases like “may I?” Since Lillian appeared here, whether she wanted to or not, she couldn’t refuse any requests… unless Liao Te had authority like Huo Yanji to stand in front of her regardless of everything.

But precisely, Huo Yanji hadn’t served as a backing for Sang Jue, who was in a worse situation.

Because Sang Jue was an alien species.

Because Sang Jue might be the hope to end everything.

Because Huo Yanji was human, and their interests naturally weren’t on the same side.

Huo Yanji’s broad shoulders bore heavy responsibilities. His beating heart had Sang Jue’s name written on it, but that place was too fragile—one poke and it would bleed profusely.

Lillian didn’t hesitate, quietly responding: “Alright.”

Liao Te beside her opened his mouth, the proliferated melted wounds on his face twitching, appearing even more gloomy, but still didn’t stop her.

Hill left with Lillian, Liao Te following closely, not leaving her side.

Ling Gen was reviewing Sang Jue’s files that 007 had pulled up—almost all research reports of Sang Jue’s blood samples by Dr. Anya from a hundred years ago. Though the printed stack was thick, it was mostly similar without major breakthrough discoveries.

He couldn’t understand many technical terms, so he handed them to Eugene: “What do these results mean?”

“…Hm?” Eugene adjusted his glasses: “This is consistent with Hill’s report results.”

“Sang Jue’s blood doesn’t have traditional contaminating properties, but contains an extremely special substance that has a purifying effect on contaminated organisms.”

“Purification?” Ling Gen quickly asked: “Is it useful for humans too?”

“Yes. Hill previously had an experimental sample called ‘Carl’ who had contact with Sang Jue.” Eugene said: “But due to lack of more experimental data for conclusion, Hill didn’t completely characterize it, only speculating this ‘purification’ strips contamination from organisms… Dr. Anya’s report is much more detailed.”

Everyone became excited hearing this.

But the old general poured cold water: “If this purification was useful, it should have been used a hundred years ago.”

No matter how much Dr. Anya cared for Sang Jue, she wouldn’t joke with all humanity’s future.

“Yes…” Eugene browsed the report: “Dr. Anya’s research results are very detailed—

“Simply put, organisms stripped of contamination begin to degenerate, returning to their original appearance, but if they’re life forms infected by other organisms, they’ll still retain mutated forms but no longer have contaminating properties.”

Ling Gen digested this: “You mean it can only purify primitive organisms contaminated once by rifts, while humans count as beings infected by other organisms, so mutated states can’t be reversed, only contamination can be removed?”

Eugene said: “That’s roughly the meaning, but there were no deviants a hundred years ago, so the specific situation still needs data support.”

Most people didn’t understand genetics-related matters and only knew superficial aspects of current contamination genes.

Others had this doubt: “After contamination is purified, will deviants’ gene sequences stabilize?”

“You mean will they still die within thirty years?” Eugene said bluntly: “Yes, even faster.”

Everyone immediately fell silent.

Eugene removed his glasses, wiping the fog that had formed from speaking too urgently. He organized his language and said after a while: “To put these reports in simple terms, organisms should have died the moment they were infected, but foreign powerful genes kept them alive—purifying contamination is equivalent to returning the organism to the moment before infection, with death following the next second.”

“Dr. Anya’s experimental subject was a mutated monkey infected by a snake, but substituting humans for this monkey should yield similar results.”

“Though there were no deviants a hundred years ago, experimental samples of infected people existed, yielding results similar to Hill’s experimental subject called ‘Bill.’ Infected people who came into contact with Sang Jue’s genes wouldn’t show mutation symptoms, but damage to gene sequences from contamination was irreversible.”

These words were somewhat difficult to understand, but everyone slowly digested them.

They weren’t particularly disappointed, just that humans had stood on the cliff’s edge for so many years, finally seeing the possibility of building a bridge—naturally unwilling to give up easily.

They naturally defaulted to treating Sang Jue as a usable tool, with no one feeling anything was wrong.

Humans had always been this way throughout history.

Eugene silently watched everyone’s expressions, remembering his amazement when first seeing Sang Jue in the main city hospital room.

—A boy beautiful to the point of seeming fake.

Looking back now, his first instinct was correct—indeed fake, as Sang Jue wasn’t human at all.

But he genuinely had a human appearance, could speak human language, had emotions, had thoughts…

If Sang Jue were a real human, would everyone’s attitude toward him change?

His heart quickly provided an answer—

No.

History once had a trolley problem—

Suppose five people were tied to one trolley track, and only one person tied to an alternate track, then a runaway trolley came speeding toward them, only able to hit one or the other.

Should one die to save five, or should five die to save one? This sparked endless debate.

Many then proposed a viewpoint: life cannot be measured, there’s no reason to sacrifice the few for the many.

But substituting the so-called trolley problem now—one track has all humanity, the other has only one life. If a vote were held now, would the viewpoint that life cannot be measured still emerge?

Through repeated historical trajectories, humans had already provided the answer, with too many examples of sacrificing the few for the many.

Whether that track held a person or dog, they would inevitably become blood splatter under train wheels, unless they had the ability to overturn the train.

“Where is the ‘here’ Dr. Millie mentioned? Assuming such a special place really exists underground, is it possible for us to find it? Underground is so vast, and over a hundred years, three groups of people have gone down, almost all…”

Though no one said it, they all knew the chances of Huo Jiangmian’s group returning were also very slim.

Eugene came back to his senses: “Dr. Millie first discovered Sang Jue at Paradise Eye. Everyone should know how Paradise Eye got its name—the rift cuts through a valley, with the two poles forming a curved line, and the abyss wrapped by the rift looks like an eye.”

“You mean…”

Eugene paused: “And if I remember correctly, Rift No. 1 is named No. 1 because it’s closest to the center of all rifts.”

…

Rain was still falling.

Though this storm wasn’t the most violent, it had strong endurance—a month later, light rain was still pattering. This caused the main city’s temperature to drop at least seven or eight degrees from usual, feeling somewhat like historical ‘early winter.’

Huo Yanji put on a coat, declined soldier accompaniment, and walked alone into the rain curtain with a black umbrella.

He first went to the cafeteria near the lighthouse, ordering a simple meal of one meat dish, one vegetable, and rice.

The cafeteria’s historical deduction records were usually dozens at a time, but this time only cost 4.3.

Neither hard to swallow nor particularly flavorful, Huo Yanji ate unhurriedly, just like every meal before meeting Sang Jue—eating was merely a necessary task for survival.

Finally, he wiped his mouth corner, sent the tray to the recycling area, and left.

He also went to the small tavern, which had a “temporarily closed” sign at the door. Huo Yanji quickly picked the lock. Natural light penetrated the dark room, the table seemingly still retaining yesterday’s intimate warmth.

With a clattering sound, the venetian blinds were closed, and the tavern darkened again. Strips of natural light properly printed on the floor, coat, thin lip corners, and unclear eyes.

Huo Yanji’s memory was quite good. Even though he’d only watched Sang Jue mix that drink once yesterday, he still perfectly replicated it.

He supported himself against the bar with one hand, looking down for a sip… something was missing.

Huo Yanji turned, surveying the tavern, then made a call with a cold voice: “Have someone move everything from shop B13, 39 Lane, 123rd Street to my residence.”

The other side asked: “Sir, move to the manor or apartment?”

Huo Yanji said: “Move to the apartment.”

The manor carried Huo Yanji’s ideals and responsibilities, but Sang Jue wasn’t there.

Not staying long at the tavern, Huo Yanji returned to the manor.

The deep pit where the tombstone had been by the lake was still there, just filled with muddy water. The lake surface rippled slightly, with fish gathering in the center, splashing happily in the water.

Huo Yanji gazed for a while, seemingly lost in thought. After a long time, he transferred the umbrella handle from his right hand to his left and made another call.

“Announce it now. From this moment, the entire city is under martial law, curfew system reactivated, duration indefinite.” In the rain, Huo Yanji’s voice seemed particularly cold and thin. “—Must capture Sang Jue.”

He closed his umbrella and walked into the small house, the heavy wooden door blocking his silhouette.

On the lake surface, a blue fish floated for a while, its bean-sized eyes staring intently at the second-floor window of the small house. After a long time, it turned and leaped toward the more distant water surface.

**