EDEH Chapter 133

Huo Yanji paused momentarily.

 

If human thinking was applied to Sang Jue’s thoughts, one would find Sang Jue had made no errors.

 

Humans had always been arrogant, believing themselves at the food chain’s top, including almost all edible creatures in their diet, only protecting species when they neared extinction.

 

So for the more powerful Sang Jue, couldn’t he also view all the weak as food?

 

Huo Yanji said: “Sang Jue, we’re already standing on opposing sides of interest.”

 

“…” Sang Jue’s teeth suddenly tightened, biting down hard. The muscles embracing him tensed abruptly, but he only held his waist without taking action.

 

A faint bloody taste spread between his teeth. His vision inexplicably blurred, leaving only the slender neck line.

 

Sang Jue stared for a long time, the feeling of grievance threatening to burst his small heart.

 

He wanted to go back to find the doctor.

 

Nestling beside the doctor, thinking of nothing, eating the doctor’s delicious food, listening to the doctor’s stories, using his teeth to grip the corner of the doctor’s white coat, following her every step to watch her work.

 

Unlike the human before him…

 

“You just don’t like me the way I like you.”

 

Sang Jue remembered a drink he’d mixed several days ago—very sour, very bitter, made according to a customer’s request for “the taste of life.”

 

Sang Jue didn’t know what life tasted like, only selecting ingredients based on the customer’s description.

 

The customer drank it without changing expression. Sang Jue found it strange, so he mixed one for himself too. Remembering Huo Yanji’s warning not to drink outside, he only took a small sip.

 

In that instant, his entire mouth was occupied by sourness and bitterness—indescribably awful.

 

That was how Sang Jue felt now.

 

Most hateful was that Huo Yanji didn’t refute “you just don’t like me the way I like you.”

 

“Sang Jue, no one can be as pure as you.” In the night wind, Huo Yanji’s voice was very calm: “Human affection is all utilitarian. Love is a false proposition—there’s no liking without reason. They like how you treat them well, like your beauty, like your power or wealth. There’s always some reason.”

 

Sang Jue spaced out for a while.

 

He truly didn’t know what he liked about Huo Yanji—clearly this person had been very bad initially, always maliciously bullying him and being fierce.

 

Only his liking was without reason.

 

“Then what do you like about me?”

 

Huo Yanji said casually: “Like that you’re easy to deceive.”

 

“…” Sang Jue’s temper flared: “I have reasons too! I like that you’re good-looking.”

 

Huo Yanji said nothing, holding Sang Jue while gazing at the distant campfire.

 

If that was the case, nothing could be better.

 

Only being infatuated with appearance made it easy to break away.

 

Sang Jue in his arms murmured softly: “Why do you…”

 

Huo Yanji: “What?”

 

Sang Jue didn’t speak. He wanted to ask why Huo Yanji never said nice things to coax him. Other couples had people coaxing them, but princes don’t coax evil dragons.

 

Why didn’t he ask this aloud?

 

Because dimly, he knew some of the reason.

 

But he was unhappy.

 

“I’m going to eat all humans.”

 

“Unpolluted fresh water is also a precious resource—many people don’t bathe even once a week.” Huo Yanji continued the conversation: “So many smelly people, can you bear to eat them?”

 

“I can be less picky.” Sang Jue thought: “Find a little slave to wash the ‘food’ clean. Roasted well, it’s not inedible.”

 

The first to use tools for cooking were humans, and he could use human-invented methods to eat humans.

 

Very interesting.

 

Sang Jue remembered the doctor saying the biggest difference between humans and animals was that humans used tools.

 

Sang Jue’s existence made humans no longer unique.

 

“Then eat them.” Huo Yanji said calmly: “No one can stop you, Sang Jue. If you also had a clan, humanity’s destruction might be inevitable.”

 

Sang Jue didn’t speak. Blood continued seeping from the wound, making him somewhat annoyed—he’d bitten too hard just now. Carefully licking the wound on Huo Yanji’s throat, he felt inexplicably confused.

 

“Placing emotions on humans was inherently foolish behavior.” Huo Yanji continued: “You have a long lifespan and powerful abilities. Even if useless to humans, you’d face jealousy and suspicion because you’re uncontrollable.”

 

The IV bottle was empty. Huo Yanji removed the needle: “Human nature is complex and self-serving. You’re destined not to walk together.”

 

“…What about you?”

 

After a long while, Huo Yanji said: “I’m also human, Sang Jue. Don’t apply any filters to me.”

 

For a life form like Sang Jue with intelligence and speech, living among people was good comfort for loneliness, but once dependence on humans developed, it was the beginning of tragedy.

 

Tragically, Huo Yanji realized this too late.

 

Sang Jue stopped talking. Though they were so close, body heat passing through two thin layers of fabric to regulate their surface temperatures to the same level.

 

So close, yet so distant.

 

Sang Jue emerged from Huo Yanji’s embrace, transforming back to dragon form to stare directly at him.

 

Those round eyes held no warmth, not even reflection—dark as an abyss with a calming terror.

 

But Huo Yanji didn’t look away, only his fingertips moving almost imperceptibly.

 

Huo Yanji’s emotions were ordinary as he said casually: “Want to make me the first?”

 

The little evil dragon approached without growling or opening his mouth, just lying down around Huo Yanji, using tail and wings to firmly encircle him in a dragon’s embrace.

 

The dragon body wasn’t as thin as human form. Though still not robust compared to his kind, he was already far more powerful than humans.

 

Scales contracted tightly—very hard, but intentionally or not, after Sang Jue lay down, Huo Yanji found himself against the warm dragon belly.

 

The thick dragon tail fell in his embrace, motionless.

 

This life continued for a week.

 

Sang Jue rarely transformed to human form, occasionally hunting and bringing fresh meat back to throw before Huo Yanji.

 

He rarely communicated with Huo Yanji and showed no intention of letting him leave.

 

Huo Yanji’s body was improving, but unexpectedly, he developed a fever today.

 

Earlier, the reason Sang Jue had waited three days before going to the hospital was to prepare for the kidnapping, and he understood that only humans had the ability to perform surgery on Huo Yanji.

 

So when raiding the pharmacy, he only took some essential medications like antibiotics.

 

Dragon-form Sang Jue stared at Huo Yanji, whose neck and area behind his ears were flushed red, feeling troubled.

 

Huo Yanji was still sleeping, breathing very weakly.

 

So even the strongest humans appeared so fragile when injured and ill, even more fragile than that time in the rift.

 

Sang Jue lifted his dragon wing and touched Huo Yanji’s forehead, then quickly pulled away—continuous heat transmitted, just like when he himself was infected with fever.

 

He transformed back to human form, carefully placing his head in Huo Yanji’s neck hollow.

 

“Wife.” He called out softly.

 

The throat before him still had a band-aid where he’d bitten through before—it hadn’t healed yet.

 

Sang Jue couldn’t help but open his mouth to lick it.

 

“Dirty.” Huo Yanji had awakened at some point, gripping Sang Jue’s neck to make him lift his head.

 

Sang Jue broke free, continuing to press against Huo Yanji’s shoulder.

 

Humans seemed unable to completely escape communal living, especially in this current world.

 

Humans needed baths, needed cleanliness, and needed to consume unpolluted fresh water—all things Sang Jue couldn’t provide. Unlike him, who would smell good even without bathing for a year.

 

No lie—the doctor had said so.

 

“You’re a bit smelly now.” But Sang Jue still wanted to stay close.

 

Huo Yanji’s voice was somewhat hoarse: “Including hospital time, it’s been ten days.”

 

“You have a fever. What should I do?”

 

Generally speaking, fevers could heal themselves, but Huo Yanji was someone who’d just suffered severe injuries. A fever could very well be fatal.

 

“There are many choices.” Huo Yanji said: “Send me back to the main city or nearest safe zone, or leave me here and go yourself… or go look for medicine in nearby city ruins.”

 

Sang Jue ignored the first two options, straightening up to stare at Huo Yanji: “You said a few days ago this city has been ruins for over one hundred and ten years. Even if there’s medicine, it would be expired.”

 

“But almost all ruins have housed wanderers.” Huo Yanji paused: “Do you know why most wanderers hate safe zones?”

 

“Hm?”

 

“In terminology, we deliberately separate wanderers from rebels, but actually these two groups have at least ninety-five percent overlap.” Perhaps due to illness, Huo Yanji spoke very slowly: “This is a commonly known secret that everyone avoids—”

 

“Most wanderers don’t come from safe zones, but are descendants of the billions of humans abandoned during the meteor season.”

 

Sang Jue blinked slowly.

 

So rebels hated safe zones so much they even wanted world destruction.

 

“There were definitely survivors during the meteor season—for example, Ivan in Rift No. 2 wasn’t harmed by surface radiation.” Even if only hundreds of thousands survived from billions, that was still an extremely large group.

 

“Their descendants were born carrying seeds of hatred, fighting to the death.”

 

So Huo Yanji never felt anger toward rebels. Initially, safe zones always handled captured rebels leniently.

 

In this period of scarce clean land, there were still special prisons for rebels, with only the most heinous executed.

 

Past wrongs brought today’s bitter fruits.

 

Looking closely, neither side was absolutely wrong—only different positions and beliefs.

 

Huo Yanji said flatly: “They’ve lived in various city ruins for ninety years. There might be leftover medicine.”

 

“You come with me.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Seeming not to expect Huo Yanji to agree so easily, Sang Jue tilted his head, staring at him as if wondering what he planned to do.

 

“Don’t think of escaping.”

 

“Won’t escape.”

 

Putting on coats, they left the aircraft.

 

The ruins were desolate, with sandstorms from the west making the air yellow.

 

Occasionally one or two buildings not completely collapsed could be seen, standing firm among ruins, though when wind picked up, unsupported glass would crash down.

 

To avoid rebel attention, Sang Jue didn’t transform into dragon form.

 

“There seems to be a pharmacy ahead—”

 

Just as Sang Jue finished speaking, Huo Yanji grabbed his wrist and shoved him against a wall. Sang Jue’s fingers formed fists, instinctively closing his eyes. The expected pain didn’t come; instead he heard a muffled grunt and dozens of “whooshing” sounds.

 

He’d crashed into Huo Yanji’s chest—not completely painless, his chin felt a bit numb.

 

But Huo Yanji was worse off, squeezed between wall and Sang Jue, his internal organs trembling.

 

“What is this?” Sang Jue looked bewildered at the short arrows shot into the perpendicular wall.

 

“Trap, you stepped on a rope.” Huo Yanji released Sang Jue, surveying surroundings: “Traveling through city ruins might be more dangerous than outside. Rebels create various traps around their living areas.”

 

This meant there was a rebel camp nearby.

 

Huo Yanji frowned. The recent sweep should have dealt with most rebels—survivors shouldn’t have the courage to hide in ruins anymore.

 

For each step forward, Sang Jue carefully examined the ground beneath his feet.

 

Huo Yanji watched for a while as wind made clothes billow, his voice seeming ready to scatter: “Traps aren’t necessarily underfoot—observe in all directions.”

 

“Mm…” Sang Jue suddenly stopped: “There are people.”

 

They lightened their steps, avoiding cans and broken bricks on the ground. Wind mixed with sand howled past, stinging their faces.

 

From the dense broken bricks and ruined furniture remains on the ground, this had once been a shelter from wind and rain, perhaps housing several wanderers, until increasingly harsh conditions caused it to collapse.

 

 

Ahead was a ruined wall. Sang Jue’s footsteps were extremely light as he slowly approached and peered over—

 

Beyond the ruined wall was a very spacious open area.

 

In the center of the swirling sand and wind, there was actually a woman swaying. Her clothing was different from everyone else of this era—flowing, thin skirts, a veil covering her nose and mouth, as unreal as a dream.

 

The moment he saw her face clearly, Huo Yanji’s eyes darkened.

 

A faint sound came from behind. Before Sang Jue could react, Huo Yanji had already turned sideways and said coldly: “Come out!”

 

A short-haired woman emerged from behind an abandoned vehicle not far away. Having been discovered, she showed no panic at all, walking over with an indifferent expression and calling to the woman dancing in the wind and sand: “Evelyn, time to come back for dinner.”

 

Setting aside her role as “Madam,” Evelyn at this moment was like an innocent, carefree child.

 

She acted as if Huo Yanji and Sang Jue didn’t exist, walking straight past them toward the short-haired woman.

 

They seemed unconcerned about why Huo Yanji had appeared here and were about to leave together. The atmosphere between them was also strange—intimate yet distant.

 

Sang Jue tilted his head to watch, very puzzled.

 

Huo Yanji suddenly spoke: “Ji Zhen.”

 

The figure several meters away paused.

 

Huo Yanji asked: “Why are you here?”

 

Ji Zhen didn’t turn around, her tone flat: “Under your attacks, we suffered heavy casualties. Among the survivors, serious internal divisions emerged. Some people’s hatred for the safe zone deepened, while others wanted to abandon their identity as ‘rebels’ and become wandering free people.”

 

From perspectives Sang Jue couldn’t see, many people’s lives were proceeding in parallel.

 

The many events that had occurred over these months were difficult to explain in a few words.

 

“I finished what I had to do, then left that environment.” From Ji Zhen’s voice, no trace of unwillingness could be heard—it was very cold, as if everything she had done before was just ordinary matters.

 

As if all she needed was the process, and the outcome wasn’t important.

 

Ji Zhen had just started to walk away when Evelyn stopped again.

 

She turned back, her sand-filtering veil fluttering. She tilted her head like Sang Jue and asked Huo Yanji: “Do you regret it?”

 

Huo Yanji asked back: “What?”

 

“Even with you there, the safe zone is still heading toward self-destruction step by step.” Evelyn glanced at Sang Jue and said softly, “If you had stayed back then, at least you could have had ten years with him.”

 

They seemed to know everything that was happening in the safe zone—clearly there were still their informants among the upper levels.

 

**

---