EDEH Chapter 145

“Bang!”

 

The gunshot echoed silently throughout the city.

 

No one knew that on this night—this magnificent night with aurora filling the sky—a general who had once achieved countless merits fell by his own hand.

 

The old general stood alone in the empty corridor, silent, only his rough fingers gripping his military uniform cuff, trembling imperceptibly twice.

 

Compared to Ling Gen’s past achievements, were his crimes of using Huo Yanji as bait, causing a lieutenant’s death, and leaving a deputy officer severely injured and unconscious worth mentioning?

 

Undeniably, the latter was extremely vile.

 

But weren’t his merits enough to offset his faults?

 

As an elder, he had personally witnessed how Ling Gen, Huo Yanji, Huo Jiangmian and others of the younger generation had climbed from the bottom to their current positions, all through genuine achievements without any padding.

 

Every shoulder insignia on their military uniforms was an honor symbol they had personally fought for.

 

They were all pure people.

 

Yet they all became pawns of history, stepping stones on the path to dawn.

 

The old general silently walked to a nearby window, gazing at the main city under the gray night.

 

These past days, the main city’s atmosphere had solidified considerably. Nights were no longer noisy but had become very quiet.

 

Whether it was because the situation had become more brutal and people no longer had the heart for noise, or because of the “mental contamination” the research institute mentioned, was unclear.

 

If it was the latter, Sang Jue was the only hope.

 

“Beep beep—”

 

The old general answered the phone, hearing the research institute director’s voice: “If convenient, please come to the research institute.”

 

In the central laboratory of the research institute, the most talented people of this era were gathered.

 

They argued endlessly, each holding their own views.

 

Their speculation about the different flow of time in rifts compared to the surface had reached a heated stage—each seemed to be fighting their life’s final battle.

 

If mental contamination was truly as they theorized, then perhaps it would soon be their turn.

 

Genetic contamination’s fault tolerance wasn’t determined by willpower, but mental contamination clearly had individual differences.

 

They weren’t much stronger than those residents, perhaps even more fragile.

 

Eugene said slowly: “This is an experimental theory that appeared many years ago. I only replicated it once, and facts prove its conclusions are likely correct.”

 

“007, please play the experimental data recording.”

 

“Alright, please wait.”

 

After a moment, a simulated scenario appeared on the large screen, with Eugene’s written report alongside it.

 

Hundreds of years ago, the human physics community had conducted an experiment called the “double-slit interference” experiment.

 

This experiment proved one thing—

 

The world and time do not exist.

 

Or rather, the world and time are “false propositions.”

 

Initially, some scientists wanted to argue whether light was particles or waves, so they launched the double-slit interference experiment to observe photon transmission processes and determine whether light was particles or waves.

 

According to their hypothesis, if light were particles, it would pass straight through the two slits, but if light were waves, it would split into two wave sources when passing through the two slits, interacting and influencing each other.

 

The first experiment proved light was waves.

 

But later, another group of physicists conducted the same experiment again, only this time sending just one photon. One photon could only pass through one slit, couldn’t possibly produce ripples, and naturally couldn’t produce the mutual interference and influence results of the first experiment.

 

However, after sending countless individual photons, they still achieved interference wave pattern results.

 

For clearer results, the experimenters finally installed cameras at the slits to more clearly determine when exactly the photons passed through which slits and how they produced wave pattern results while interfering with themselves.

 

But something incredible happened—the same experiment, just with an added camera, caused the light to change from wave patterns in the two previous experiments to particle form.

 

This experiment proved that the appearance of observers—the cameras—would affect light’s results.

 

When humans didn’t observe it, it was wave-like; when humans observed it, it was particle-like, as if it had consciousness.

 

First, one point must be clarified: the experiment had ended and results obtained. Humans only chose to add a camera to an identical experiment for greater clarity, but the results changed.

 

Later, someone provided an explanation.

 

In the absence of interference, photons exist in a superposition state where multiple possibilities coexist. The posture and orientation of human observation determines their final outcome.

 

Applied to other situations, if a mercenary encounters a monster and you hear the sounds of combat from afar, if you go to observe them, only one result will inevitably occur—either the monster dies, or the human dies, or both die.

 

But if you don’t go and instead quickly leave, their state remains a superposition of all three possibilities, existing in a collapsed, chaotic state.

 

Very much like Schrödinger’s cat.

 

With this understanding, one could extrapolate: can the world and time that humans perceive also be understood this way?

 

“You’re completely negating the theory that magnetic field strength affects the passage of time…”

 

“How does it affect it? Humans themselves possess magnetic fields. When we appear in a space, we influence that space’s magnetic field. Isn’t that normal?”

 

“Stop arguing, that’s not the point.” Eugene said, “The point is that a very small group of people proposed an absurd theory at the time—that the world was created, and there are countless parallel worlds identical to it.”

 

—The world itself is illusory, like a game world created by humans. Where players are present, time calculations run faster and pixels are higher, but where players aren’t present, time runs slower or even the scenes are frozen.

 

The underground is a world where humans aren’t present and haven’t observed, so time there flows differently than on the surface.

 

Time doesn’t inherently exist—it has no beginning or end. But because humans pay attention to it, it began to flow.

 

Someone couldn’t help making a joke: “You don’t think the world was created by Sang Jue, do you? That he’s the creator god?”

 

Unexpectedly, Eugene actually agreed: “This is based on the previously mentioned theory that the special matter Sang Jue represents is the planet’s ‘origin point.'”

 

“…”

 

“Matter capable of creating worlds and time was finally compressed into that tiny mass Dr. Millie encountered?”

 

Though they had no video, based on Dr. Millie’s description of first meeting Sang Jue over a century ago, his original form was only about the size of three or four water bottles.

 

“No no, I’m hypothesizing that when the ‘origin point’ appeared, photons and dark matter also appeared. Countless worlds slowly began to materialize and became ‘fixed.’ He unconsciously—or you could say carelessly—created this world. Any life is itself a form of energy, that’s indisputable, right? It’s just that he’s a higher-level, higher-dimensional energy field than humans. But one day, the mass representing the ‘origin point’s’ consciousness—that is, Sang Jue—left his original position, causing the door to open. Other worlds, or rather matter from worlds richer in dark matter, flowed into our world, changing our predetermined course.”

 

“…” An elderly researcher held back for a long time: “Nonsense!”

 

“This is actually possible… otherwise how do you explain Sang Jue’s ability to replicate all biological genes?”

 

“I’m more inclined to believe it’s not that he can replicate all biological genes, but that all genetic material originally came from him—he doesn’t need to replicate to transform in countless ways.”

 

The old general listened from the side and honestly didn’t understand a word.

 

He was calm yet not calm enough, not understanding what significance this group of people found in obsessing over such matters at a time like this.

 

Using their logic, couldn’t one also say that this world originally had no meaning, but became meaningful because of the existence of observers and recorders like humans?

 

Incomprehensible.

 

The old general couldn’t understand these researchers’ obsession. He only knew that regardless of what Sang Jue was, he had to return to his original position for humanity to have any hope.

 

For the light, no matter how much filth and corruption hid in the shadows… it was worth it.

 

·

 

Waste Waters.

 

Huo Yanji asked from afar: “Afraid of me?”

 

“He was fake… I know.” Sang Jue stood at the boundary between light and darkness, his figure dim with a transparency that seemed ready to scatter at a breath. “But might there come a day when you’d also kill the real me without hesitation?”

 

“…Mm.”

 

The meaning of this “mm” was unclear. Huo Yanji slowly approached while Sang Jue instinctively spread his arms, facing the light, wanting to embrace the man in the light.

 

But what greeted him was still the same long dagger that had just stabbed the fake Sang Jue and a casual remark: “Could I even kill you?”

 

“He never asks like that.”

 

Sang Jue rarely posed such “humble” questions because he was powerful enough himself.

 

He knew that as long as he didn’t want to, he wouldn’t be coerced or killed by anyone. He could even distinguish everyone’s malice and goodwill—how could he have such uncertain questions?

 

This Sang Jue also instantly melted, leaving only a puddle of unidentifiable liquid on the ground.

 

What exactly was this?

 

Huo Yanji crouched down and rubbed it through his gloves, but found nothing special—it seemed like ordinary mucus secreted by some creature.

 

Even Huo Yanji, who could recite thousands of pages of biological encyclopedias backwards, couldn’t immediately identify what this was.

 

The Waste Waters was difficult to handle not only because of too many densely packed contaminated monsters, but also because an unknown contamination source existed here, continuously contaminating surrounding creatures like a rift, causing them to constantly ‘evolve’ and ‘merge’ into more terrifying existences.

 

But since they’d never been able to locate the contamination source’s center, Huo Yanji’s suggestion was direct destruction.

 

After all, this place wasn’t as massive as a rift—it could still be destroyed by human effort.

 

Moreover, the contamination source here shouldn’t be like rifts’ silent, colorless existence—there was some possibility of destruction. Even if not, it could solve the Waste Waters monster disaster problem for a certain period, giving humanity decades of respite.

 

But left unchecked, the monsters here would only become more aberrant, and the Waste Waters’ contamination radius would grow larger.

 

Huo Yanji continued forward. He was still in the building, but this section had sunk into the Waste Waters’ mud layer, making corridors and rooms all slanted.

 

Some areas had already collapsed and were buried under building debris, requiring alternative routes.

 

The corridor at the end was broken, and Huo Yanji walked to the edge to look down. The severed floor slab hung in mid-air, held only by steel reinforcement bars.

 

However, the angle was slanted.

 

Huo Yanji assessed the angle for a while, first throwing his pack down, then tying a safety rope around himself and sliding down the slanted floor slab to the next level.

 

But he still hadn’t reached the bottom floor.

 

This level was darker and more difficult to navigate. Broken brick and wall fragments scattered everywhere, and every few steps revealed collapsed ceiling with large holes smashed in the floor below.

 

But some areas weren’t suitable for descending to the next level—some holes in the smashed floors contained thick liquid, others held bottomless sewage where one couldn’t see what lay within.

 

Huo Yanji was clear about his mission. He placed explosives at regular intervals, and soon his backpack was one-third empty.

 

“Whoo…”

 

Huo Yanji heard a bit of wind and sharply turned back.

 

He slowed his pace, moving close to the wall in stealth mode. No matter how many small obstacles lay underfoot, he made no sound. He suddenly turned sideways, but where his gun and flashlight beam pointed, there was only an evil dragon crushed under the ruins.

 

This evil dragon was identical to Sang Jue—the curve of its horns, the round black eyes, the mouth that appeared docile and cute when closed without showing fierce expression, even the tail length and scale details were perfectly accurate.

 

“Roar…”

 

It whimpered lowly, struggling a few times as if unable to break free from the ruins’ restraint, appealing to Huo Yanji for help.

 

Huo Yanji closed his eyes and pulled the trigger with a “bang.”

 

Theoretically, the real Sang Jue wouldn’t be killed by a single bullet, yet this evil dragon instantly dissipated, leaving only a puddle of sticky matter like before.

 

Huo Yanji walked forward, installing explosives… and killing Sang Jue along the way.

 

He encountered various forms of Sang Jue, all familiar appearances from his memory—naive and pure, unconsciously alluring, grown up from grievance…

 

He saw Sang Jue in human form, dragon form, even as vines and green fungi… but never the spore form he’d never seen before.

 

Were these hallucinations projected from his extracted memories?

 

Or did some toxic substance exist around here, invading his visual nerves and even memory nerves?

 

If these were really monsters transformed into Sang Jue, there was no reason they wouldn’t harm him.

 

Quick strikes… the ninety-seventh one.

 

Huo Yanji could no longer remember how long he’d been wandering here. He unexpectedly couldn’t find the way back, and all electronics that could display time had stopped.

 

The only constant was that every time he killed a Sang Jue, a new Sang Jue would appear shortly after.

 

He had tried sparing them once.

 

The one that stayed with him longest was a hallucination of Sang Jue’s appearance from his first memory. It followed him for a very long time, and he never made a move.

 

However, he discovered that as long as he didn’t kill the illusion, he could never leave this area under his feet, as if imprisoned in a cage by nightmares.

 

Huo Yanji’s complexion gradually paled, fine beads of sweat appearing on his forehead—

 

Even though the temperature in the Waste Waters underground was less than ten degrees.

 

The hand holding the knife also began trembling uncontrollably… perhaps among those ninety-seven ‘Sang Jues’ he’d killed, one had been real.

 

He gradually lost physical strength, or perhaps mental strength, needing to lean against walls to continue, his mask filled with thick fog from heavy breathing, making the path ahead unclear.

 

Even without vision, ‘Sang Jue’ would still appear, through sound, through touch.

 

“Sang Jue…”

 

Huo Yanji felt dizzy and leaned against the wall, murmuring.

 

Fine sweat made him want to remove his mask, but his last bit of rationality stopped him—

 

Whether contamination or poisoning, there was definitely something around that could affect human sanity. If he was like this, what about Sang Jue who had charged in recklessly?

 

Huo Yanji’s heavy breathing echoed in the empty environment. He supported himself and continued forward.

 

But no matter what, he couldn’t find any real traces of Sang Jue—only false illusions everywhere.

 

Until he suddenly seemed unable to support himself and raised his knife toward his own heart.

 

He stood in the dim ruins, the flashlight’s beam pale and weak, surrounded by chaotic black water and half-collapsed walls… the knife tip raised high, falling heavily.

 

However, just as it was about to pierce his heart, the knife tip suddenly deviated direction, stopping at his chest like an emergency brake.

 

Huo Yanji gasped roughly with difficulty, opening his eyes—

 

As he had finally suspected, not only was Sang Jue fake, but he himself was also fake.

 

The real him was lying in the ruins, having slept for who knew how long.

 

Using the weak reflection from his communicator, he checked the time. Only ten minutes had passed since first seeing the fake Sang Jue.

 

Yet he felt like he’d spent many days in the nightmare.

 

Huo Yanji half-propped himself up and suddenly felt something in the darkness watching him.

 

He lightened his movements, adjusting his arm-mounted flashlight to the weakest setting and slowly turning it on. Even though he was mentally prepared and had strong enough willpower, his heartbeat still skipped several beats—

 

Huo Yanji stiffened as he met the gaze of countless blinking scarlet eyes.

 

These eyes were surrounded by slowly writhing bloody tumors. They grew within the tumors, each blinking at different frequencies, as if independent entities.

 

The eyes were different sizes and lengths.

 

Seemingly aware of being exposed, the tumors suddenly writhed faster. Countless eyes stared straight at him—contemptuous, sideways glances, disdainful looks… all carrying eerie emotions.

 

In his peripheral vision, Sang Jue, who should have been in dragon form, had changed back to human form and lay sleeping beneath a giant eye.

 

That giant eye was about the size of three adult men. It paid no attention to the awakened Huo Yanji, its scarlet eyeball fixed firmly on Sang Jue, its huge eyelid unblinking.

 

Sang Jue seemed to have fallen into the same nightmare as Huo Yanji before. Pale red light fell on his face, his long black lashes casting fan-shaped shadows as they trembled lightly.

 

He murmured in sleep, breathing rapidly: “Mama, mama…”

 

***

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