EDEH Chapter 109

Huo Yanji left with his subordinates through the controlled west gate in the dead of night.

 

A dragon-like convoy of military vehicles headed west toward District Seven, taking unconventional routes.

 

Observers constantly prowled within a kilometer radius. The frontmost observers continuously scattered contamination-repelling powder roadside, which could somewhat prevent monsters from approaching.

 

If they discovered enemies ahead, they’d report immediately.

 

In the vehicle, Sang Jue wore military uniform several sizes too large, sitting beside Huo Yanji. Compared to the tall, imposing officers around him, he seemed out of place.

 

In some sense, military uniforms were sacred, but surrounding officers weren’t dissatisfied that a non-military resident wore one. This wasn’t because of Huo Yanji, but because after two days of defending the city, they were very familiar with Sang Jue.

 

“The general’s little lover is fierce as hell” had spread throughout the entire force.

 

As long as you fought enemies together, military status wasn’t so important.

 

Officers couldn’t rest on the road either, staying fully alert to discuss upcoming strategies. Sang Jue wasn’t interested, half-listening while resting his head on Huo Yanji’s shoulder, drowsy.

 

Huo Yanji usually didn’t show affection in public—it was improper. As a general, being clingy with a partner regardless of occasion was disrespectful to subordinates.

 

But the little evil dragon didn’t understand these things, just felt dizzy and sleepy.

 

Surrounding voices were orderly, everyone taking turns, speaking in sequence. One particularly deep voice stood out, combined with the armored vehicle’s humming like a ancient symphony playing through eardrums.

 

Further away were the contaminated creatures in surrounding forests, releasing special rhythms only Sang Jue could hear.

 

Sang Jue could discover monsters through hearing and smell, but how did monsters discover him?

 

Just smell, or could they also sense his rhythm?

 

Did he have rhythm too?

 

In human language, was this kind of rhythm a magnetic field, or some strange frequency?

 

The vehicle jolted, and Sang Jue drowsily nuzzled the shoulder he was pillowing on, only feeling the surrounding sounds suddenly quiet for just one second, or perhaps half a second—ordinary people couldn’t detect such subtle pauses, but the sensitive evil dragon could.

 

The deep voice resumed: “Our main objective this time is the aircraft. No need to go to great lengths capturing rebels—execute them on the spot when encountered.”

 

“Won’t this cause negative reactions?”

 

In the safe zones, some people, while supporters of the safe zone system, also felt rebels were innocent—they were just deceived by evil people and shouldn’t be treated too cruelly.

 

Therefore, in the past, notorious fugitives like the Governor were captured and imprisoned, not executed.

 

“Have years of gentle treatment yielded good results?” The deep voice turned cold: “Save gentleness for internal affairs. External threats should be resolved swiftly.”

 

The drifting little evil dragon thought: his wife’s voice wasn’t always cold either—it was quite normal when dealing with subordinates.

 

But at their first meeting, Ji Ji was so fierce, coldly telling him to “look up” and pointing a gun at his head.

 

Speaking of which, the problem that had puzzled Sang Jue for over a week had been answered—whether the initial collision had caused damage.

 

Not only was there no damage, but he was quite fierce, wanting to plant himself in his body like planting flowers.

 

The armored vehicle jolted severely, occasionally rolling over obstacles like stones or puddles. Sang Jue’s eyes were closed, but his brain kept running.

 

Recent events always lingered in his mind, impossible to shake off.

 

A few months ago, he had also sat in a vehicle like this, going with Huo Yanji to support District Seven.

 

Back then Huo Yanji wasn’t his wife yet—not only did he suspect his identity, but he also installed tracking devices in his communicator. How detestable.

 

The surrounding voices had somehow grown quieter, leaving only the generator’s humming and the intermittent heartbeat of humans.

 

Thump, thump…

 

Steady and strong.

 

Some strange images gradually emerged in his mind. He seemed to have become something odd, entwining around Huo Yanji’s robust body.

 

He slowly climbed up Huo Yanji’s chest muscles, poking sensitive spots, his body’s branches circling the waist while extending downward.

 

…

 

After an unknown amount of time, the previously rhythmic heartbeat suddenly skipped a beat, breathing became urgent for an instant, but returned to normal the next second.

 

This change startled Sang Jue awake. He slowly opened his eyes and looked up in confusion.

 

The surrounding officers were all normal, resting in their seats. Even with eyes closed, their postures remained upright.

 

There was a gaze directed at him, then it moved away.

 

—It was Lieutenant Colonel Saiya, who had been separated during the mountain fire. Now he was a colonel, promoted like Wei Lan. With Wei Lan staying in the underground city area, Saiya had no need to remain and followed Huo Yanji to District Seven.

 

His hand was being gripped.

 

No… it didn’t seem to be a hand, because Huo Yanji was holding it tightly, but Sang Jue didn’t feel constrained.

 

He looked at the calm-faced Huo Yanji, then down at his own hand.

 

“…”

 

The pale palm that should have been under his sleeve had disappeared, transformed into a cluster of green, slightly writhing vines. Individual vines were slightly thicker than wire, twisted together about the thickness of an adult man’s finger, with occasional tender buds visible.

 

It was threading through Huo Yanji’s sleeve, extending into his shirt, caressing places that shouldn’t be touched.

 

Fortunately, Huo Yanji wore a military overcoat that concealed the abnormality in his clothes and blocked Sang Jue’s transformed right hand. No one had noticed the situation yet.

 

Huo Yanji could only grip a section of vine, unable to vocally tell Sang Jue to retract it or pull it back. A carload of officers were all vigilant, alert people—the slightest disturbance might wake them from their rest.

 

Huo Yanji slightly turned his head, communicating with Sang Jue through eye contact, roughly meaning to retract it.

 

Sang Jue understood and looked back innocently—he couldn’t control it.

 

Like when he had transformed into green fungi before, initially he couldn’t control it at all. It took a long time before he could change freely.

 

Huo Yanji calmly swept his gaze around, finally settling on Saiya’s face as he instinctively averted his eyes.

 

He frowned slightly. From Saiya’s angle, he shouldn’t be able to see Sang Jue’s transformation.

 

After about two hours, the convoy gradually stopped—time for rest and reorganization, and also because the terrain or environment ahead was special, requiring time for observers to assess danger levels.

 

The officers woke and got off without much delay, not questioning why Huo Yanji didn’t move.

 

Only after Saiya was the last to jump down did Huo Yanji whisper: “Really can’t retract it?”

 

Sang Jue nodded, about to say something when Huo Yanji covered his mouth.

 

Huo Yanji whispered: “The driver’s still in the vehicle.”

 

Sang Jue glanced at the partition. Usually, the driver’s seat and passenger seat were occupied by drivers who would alternate shifts, with one always staying in the vehicle to be ready for immediate departure in case of crisis.

 

“Pull it out, get off first.”

 

Only then did Sang Jue slowly withdraw the vines, giving Huo Yanji’s chest muscles a final caress before leaving.

 

Facing Huo Yanji’s grave expression, Sang Jue mumbled: “It was reluctant to leave, not me.”

 

“What, it’s not you?”

 

Sang Jue remained silent.

 

Huo Yanji removed his overcoat, draped it over Sang Jue, straightened the clothes Sang Jue had disheveled, then led him off the vehicle.

 

Only after getting out did Sang Jue realize it was still dark. Surrounding tree shadows loomed, the night was deep, stars twinkled in the sky, and moonlight was dim.

 

He clearly felt a long time had passed, asking puzzledly: “Why isn’t it light yet?”

 

Huo Yanji glanced at him: “A whole day has already passed.”

 

Sang Jue was somewhat surprised: “I slept for a whole day?”

 

Huo Yanji said flatly: “Like a little pig, wouldn’t even wake up when called for meals.”

 

“…” Sang Jue didn’t dislike pigs, so he didn’t feel like he was being scolded.

 

He had some impression—he was drowsy at the time, ate only two bites when Huo Yanji fed him, then stopped. An officer asked if he was sick, and Huo Yanji replied he had a slight fever and hadn’t been sleeping well lately.

 

The two walked away from the convoy deeper into the forest. The adjutant who noticed called from behind: “Sir!”

 

Huo Yanji raised his hand, indicating no need to follow.

 

When they reached an isolated spot, Huo Yanji touched Sang Jue’s forehead—no longer hot.

 

He said: “Show me again.”

 

Dark green vines silently emerged from Sang Jue’s sleeve, wrapping around Huo Yanji’s wrist. The vine tips even hooked Huo Yanji’s fingers, lightly touching his fingertips.

 

Huo Yanji wasn’t tense, just observed Sang Jue’s “new skin” by the dim moonlight.

 

Logically, Huo Yanji was a walking biological encyclopedia who could give answers without hesitation, but this time he paused for a full ten-plus seconds before exhaling lightly: “What cut your thigh before should have been ivy, perennially wrapped around the tops of ant-tree branches.”

 

Sang Jue asked puzzledly: “It looks so fragile and has no thorns. Why could it cut me?”

 

Huo Yanji looked into those confused eyes and said slowly: “Haven’t you noticed that except for dragon form, all your other ‘skins’ have no offensive capability?”

 

Sang Jue was stunned.

 

Precisely speaking, dragon form had offensive capability because dragons themselves had combat power, not because of the mutated form.

 

But the previously infected lingzhi mushroom, green fungi, and now the new ivy all seemed non-threatening.

 

Huo Yanji said: “When we were in the Thousand Wolf Mountains, I observed that monsters you attacked, aside from death and injury, underwent no changes.”

 

This meant not only could Sang Jue himself not contaminate others, but the forms he gained from contamination couldn’t contaminate anyone either.

 

Huo Yanji looked at the vines intimately wrapped around his hand, complexity tinting his eyes: “Your ‘new skin’ isn’t the mutated ivy we currently recognize, but the normal ivy from hundreds of years ago before contamination.”

 

Sang Jue didn’t understand what this meant.

 

“This means you can not only copy the genes of infected creatures, but also eliminate their contamination properties, reverting them to what they should have been before the world’s disorder.”

 

Just like the lingzhi mushroom that emerged from Old Karl’s corpse—it was in the harmless, uncontaminated state from hundreds of years ago.

 

Mutated green fungi weren’t much different from prehistoric civilization’s green fungi, just larger in size. Dragons were new species after the collapse with no old-new comparison, and Sang Jue had never transformed into lingzhi mushroom, so Huo Yanji hadn’t realized this before.

 

The little evil dragon asked tentatively: “Is this a good thing?”

 

“…” Huo Yanji withdrew his hand and ruffled his hair: “Sang Jue, for you personally, no news can be called good news.”

 

Whether Sang Jue was useful to humans or not, once discovered, the only result would be being captured for research.

 

This wasn’t a hundred years ago, and survivors weren’t the simple researchers from the Wastewater Research Heights who might have tolerated a non-human monster.

 

They would only be wary, fearful, or wonder if he could benefit humanity.

 

The most tragic part was that if Sang Jue really could solve the contamination problem, Huo Yanji would be powerless to stop it.

 

His relationship with Sang Jue was never equal.

 

The two looked at each other, and Sang Jue tilted his head slightly.

 

Huo Yanji paused briefly and pulled him into his embrace: “Since even with technology from over a hundred years ago they couldn’t research anything, it probably means your genes are truly useless to humans.”

 

Sang Jue asked in a muffled voice: “What if?”

 

“If that situation arises, you must learn to resist, stay away from the human world, don’t compromise for anyone—even if the one standing opposite you is me… or Dr. Anya returned from the dead.”

 

Huo Yanji could never betray humanity for personal feelings. Human interests above all remained his truth.

 

Yet he was teaching Sang Jue what to do if that situation truly arose—contradictory and divided.

 

“…”

 

The active vines quieted down with their master’s silence, silently clinging to Huo Yanji’s waist.

 

Sang Jue didn’t respond, quietly saying: “There are two hours for rest. Don’t you want to do something?”

 

Huo Yanji: “…”

 

Sang Jue added: “You’ve been hard for a long time, since I woke up—”

 

Huo Yanji covered Sang Jue’s mouth and sighed slightly with a somewhat helpless air.

 

Why was he aroused? Wasn’t it because those vines had been wandering and teasing all over his body? Of course Huo Yanji wouldn’t react to such creatures, but thinking the subject was Sang Jue made it hard to control male instincts.

 

With his mouth covered, Sang Jue could still ‘speak.’

 

Those focused, beautiful eyes and the restless, flexible vines all seemed to ask—really don’t want to do something?

 

**

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