EDEH Chapter 119

“There’s no signal here either…”

 

Huo Jiangmian’s gaze swept over everyone. The independent signal station they’d brought down was with the previously missing people, making it impossible to contact the surface now.

 

Besides this, a non-human being seemed to have infiltrated their team.

 

Huo Jiangmian didn’t make it known, his gaze passing over the faces before him, unable to discern any differences.

 

He had seen every person, and everyone’s expressions seemed so real.

 

“Rest for twenty minutes, then continue forward!”

 

Everyone responded listlessly: “Yes…”

 

Huo Jiangmian walked a bit farther away, using his lamp to illuminate the surrounding stone walls.

 

Their current position was in a somewhat larger space with pitch-black overhead extending beyond sight, creating the illusion they were at the bottom of an abyss.

 

The surrounding stone walls were neither dry nor moist, completely different from the two-thousand-meter depth of the rift. Not a single tentacle monster could be found, no humanoid creatures, and not even one glowing stalactite was visible.

 

This was like an independent world without life, filled everywhere with silent eeriness.

 

Huo Jiangmian looked at his communicator. The time display remained frozen.

 

Since they had descended, all electronic devices on them had malfunctioned, including the signal station. They could transmit, but couldn’t hear any response from the other side.

 

A silent fear spread through the air. Surrounded by darkness with companions disappearing from time to time, unable to see corpses or find enemies, they didn’t even know how long they’d been down here.

 

One day? Three days? Or a week?

 

The unmoving numbers on the communicator made them completely lose their sense of time.

 

Someone in the group said with a trembling voice: “Under these circumstances, should we continue going down?”

 

No one blamed his cowardice and retreat. Unknown fear was enough to break anyone’s spirit.

 

Huo Jiangmian didn’t turn back or speak.

 

Now it wasn’t a question of whether to continue forward, but that they couldn’t go back.

 

They had marked every step of their descent, but Huo Jiangmian had specifically observed that while the marks were made, when looking back to find them, they were nowhere to be seen.

 

As if it wasn’t the same path.

 

A young girl in the team mumbled: “We don’t even know what we’re looking for…”

 

After a pause, Huo Jiangmian turned back and said: “Humanity has had two experiences exploring the rift depths in history. The first was before the meteor season—details unclear, but ultimately no one survived.”

 

Everyone fell silent. This was a result they knew before coming down.

 

But they’d rather die at the hands of unknown monsters than continue facing this endless darkness.

 

“The second time was the truth you all learned recently—when General Huo Feng led a team down.” Huo Jiangmian said: “He brought 138 people. Only he came out, becoming history’s most powerful deviant. Based on this probability, eight of us should ultimately survive.”

 

“…” This kind of comfort was better left unspoken.

 

Huo Jiangmian was very calm: “We have no way back. Our separated companions aren’t necessarily dead—perhaps from their perspective, we’re the ones who got separated.”

 

After resting for twenty minutes, everyone’s inner panic subsided somewhat.

 

They organized their backpacks and continued forward.

 

Huo Jiangmian’s intuition from years of dancing on death’s edge made him notice something again. He casually told everyone: “I’ll bring up the rear to prevent more people from disappearing.”

 

No one suspected anything.

 

They instinctively felt that someone as powerful as Huo Jiangmian, a deviant, might not die even if everyone else perished.

 

Huo Jiangmian fell to the back, his gaze passing over head after head… eighty-six, eighty-seven.

 

The extra person from before was gone.

 

No, this could only mean one less person in the team. It might be the extra ‘person’ from before… or it could be an original team member.

 

This was too strange. What unknown contaminant was this?

 

If it were a contaminant, it should have launched contamination attacks by now. Even if it was humanoid creatures that only targeted groups, eighty-plus people were enough for them to act.

 

What exactly was the extra one?

 

His thoughts went round and round… Huo Jiangmian unconsciously thought of Huo Yanji.

 

He wondered if his convenient younger brother had made it out of the underground city.

 

Everything happening now wasn’t in his plans. Logically, from the moment he removed his military uniform, General Huo Jiangmian should have ‘died.’

 

But he kept ‘rising from the dead’ again and again, especially after learning Huo Yanji might be permanently trapped in the underground city.

 

One last time, just one last time.

 

Before it was for Bo Qing, this time it was for Yanji.

 

But if he really couldn’t get out, it wouldn’t be unfortunate for Huo Yanji. Being able to stay with his beloved, spending ten peaceful years together, then facing a painless death would be a kind of fulfillment.

 

Huo Jiangmian’s gaze remained locked on the eighty-some people ahead. The environment was too dark; the lanterns could only provide weak light. Everyone’s silhouettes merged into darkness. When no one spoke, those walking ahead seemed like soulless puppets.

 

Fear didn’t spread to Huo Jiangmian. On the contrary, this silent, dark environment made him feel calm.

 

In all these years, Huo Jiangmian had never thought so calmly and peacefully.

 

He didn’t care about the outcome of this trip, didn’t care about everyone’s lives including his own. He just wanted to finish the last task.

 

Both brothers knew Huo Feng had likely returned to Rift No. 2, so for so many years, Huo Yanji always went to Rift No. 2 on the day Huo Feng disappeared, trying to find evidence.

 

There weren’t many records of events from ninety years ago. Data showed that when Huo Feng initially crawled up from the rift, he never spoke a word about his underground experiences.

 

What was so unspeakable? Or did fear bind his thoughts, making him unwilling to recall these experiences?

 

Most importantly, Huo Feng was infected by unknown beings. He should have explored very deep places. In such a place where turning around meant losing the way back, how did he ultimately get out?

 

These processes had no records. Everything remained secret, only knowable when he witnessed it himself.

 

More than ten hours passed again. Everyone still found no abnormalities. The path ahead and behind remained pitch black, and even the brightest lantern could only illuminate five or six meters ahead.

 

“Camp here!”

 

“Yes.”

 

Soon a crude campsite was set up with flickering firelight around. Everyone sat together, lying on sleeping bags to rest, leaving one team on night watch.

 

Huo Jiangmian closed his eyes, opened them after a long while. By distant lamplight, a vague shadow stood at a moderate distance.

 

He didn’t speak or move, just watched quietly.

 

This ‘shadow’ had appeared long ago. After the humanoid creature that ate Bo Qing’s corpse died? Or a week later?

 

Too hard to calculate.

 

The shadow was blurry, as if representing how he’d forgotten the flamboyant youthful face that was forever frozen in time.

 

It was everywhere, appearing at stair corners, blocking his path when he faked his death to leave, in wall corners when he woke at midnight… and finally followed him underground.

 

Huo Jiangmian had never approached it, never made contact, never spoke to it.

 

He clearly knew this was just a distant hallucination. Perhaps if he took just one step forward, he could clearly see its face, and this hallucination would forever stay by his side, becoming a ‘real’ existence in his world…

 

But that ultimately wasn’t Bo Qing.

 

Just like before, Huo Jiangmian could watch humanoid creatures’ faces daily without investing emotion, and when it came time to act, he’d kill them without hesitation.

 

No one could become the Bo Qing in his memory. Time had become the best filter for youth.

 

If Huo Yanji’s heart was a vast manor filled with countless tombstones, then Huo Jiangmian’s heart was small—just one small grave surrounded by barrenness, with roses on the grave as the only color.

 

But the grave’s interior was vast because Bo Qing was buried there. This also stretched Huo Jiangmian’s heart large, forcing him to bear the ideals on high platforms.

 

His arms trembled uncontrollably. He could feel the pain from genetic chaos.

 

They would ultimately reunite in youth.

 

…

 

Upon waking, Huo Yanji met a pair of dark, round eyes as a flash of colored light passed by.

 

Sang Jue’s tail base was still gripped by Huo Yanji, feeling itchy and strange.

 

Having not rested well recently and just waking up, Huo Yanji’s voice carried some hoarseness: “Why did you wake so quickly?”

 

Sang Jue answered: “Didn’t want to sleep anymore, so I woke up.”

 

Huo Yanji asked: “Why didn’t you want to sleep? Did you dream?”

 

Sang Jue frowned delicately: “There were bad things in the dream.”

 

Huo Yanji gently stroked Sang Jue’s tail, not asking what he dreamed or comforting him that dreams were fake.

 

Sang Jue would eventually have to learn to face and adjust all negative emotions alone. Loneliness was his destiny.

 

They shared a kiss.

 

They rarely kissed actually. Most kissing behavior occurred during lovemaking. Sang Jue wasn’t human and didn’t have the habit of expressing love through kissing. As for Huo Yanji…

 

Too little time, too many thoughts.

 

This kiss was initiated by Huo Yanji. When his neck was pressed down, Sang Jue was very compliant, making it easy for Huo Yanji to taste those soft lips.

 

Whether in personality or body, Sang Jue gave people an impulse to knead him into their bones.

 

After a while, Huo Yanji paused, pulling back distance and touching his bleeding lower lip: “Don’t use teeth when kissing.”

 

“Oh.” His tongue tip hooked over his fangs as Sang Jue said restlessly: “Can’t control it, want to bite you.”

 

“…”

 

Huo Yanji suddenly thought that animal mating was very template-like, such as typical marking behavior of biting the back of the neck. Sang Jue’s habit of biting and holding onto throat areas might be driven by marking instincts.

 

Seeing his silence, Sang Jue asked: “Do you still want to kiss?”

 

Huo Yanji: “Hm?”

 

Sang Jue said directly: “I still want to kiss.”

 

“Understood.”

 

Accompanied by faint laughter, Huo Yanji kissed those red lips again. This time he didn’t indulge Sang Jue’s biting behavior but completely took control, capturing every inch of air in Sang Jue’s mouth.

 

Sang Jue said breathlessly: “You’re about to explode again.”

 

Huo Yanji: “What do you mean ‘again’?”

 

Sang Jue had even timed it: “Every time you hold me, kiss me, at most three minutes and you’re about to explode.”

 

Huo Yanji said casually: “Probably been alone too long, hard to satisfy.”

 

“That’s not it.” Sang Jue covered his mouth, saying seriously: “It’s because you like me too much, so you can’t help it every time.”

 

“…” Meeting Sang Jue’s slightly stubborn gaze, Huo Yanji sighed silently: “Are you casting a spell? You say I like you very much so I do?”

 

The little evil dragon didn’t care.

 

His nose wouldn’t be wrong. If he said very much liked, then it was very much liked.

 

Two beeps interrupted their standoff.

 

When Huo Yanji got up, he instinctively supported Sang Jue’s waist to prevent him from falling. The moment he answered the call, his tone returned to coldness: “What is it?”

 

Deputy Zhang’s voice came through: “Colonel Colin from District Five sent communication requesting your instructions.”

 

“Twenty minutes.”

 

“Alright.”

 

Huo Yanji got out of bed, repeating what he did every day—putting on undergarments, military pants, tucking the shirt hem neatly into his waistband, putting on military boots, wearing the solemn jacket, finally donning black leather gloves.

 

Finally, Huo Yanji looked back at Sang Jue on the bed, who was coiled with his tail, watching him intently.

 

“Lunch will be delivered soon. Eat properly, don’t be perfunctory.”

 

Sang Jue promised not to be perfunctory: “I’ll finish your portion too.”

 

…

 

District Five’s situation was special. Besides rebel-caused riots, there were also monster wave attacks, causing heavy casualties while surrounding safe zones couldn’t spare more personnel for support.

 

“This is Huo Yanji, please speak.”

 

“General…” Colin’s voice carried barely concealed fatigue: “In District Five, Major General Murphy was ambushed by rebels and seriously injured by a mine blast. She’s being resuscued, but fortunately the battle situation is under control and everything is returning to stability.”

 

Huo Yanji was very perceptive, immediately identifying the anomaly: “Where’s Isaac?”

 

After a moment of silence, Colin said: “Major General Isaac died in frontline combat an hour ago.”

 

In this world, hearing anyone’s death the next second was expected—nothing surprising.

 

Names on the manor’s burial walls grew geometrically every day.

 

Huo Yanji paused for two seconds: “What do you want to request?”

 

“Sir,” Colin’s voice was tired but also carried determination: “—I want to stay.”

 

Where to stay was self-evident.

 

The reason District Five had been so chaotic was largely due to insufficient military force to suppress it. Even with help from other districts, chaos would return once they left.

 

Colin had taken the same path as Murphy.

 

As Lin Shuyi’s student, Murphy had also chosen to stay during the support mission to District Five and never returned.

 

Huo Yanji said: “Request approved.”

 

This was a private communication. Isaac was dead, Murphy seriously injured, and Colin still needed to replace them in connecting with numerous officers to report battle data.

 

His time was running out, yet he still made a quiet request at this moment: “Sir, regarding Major General Wei Lan… I’d like to tell her myself.”

 

Huo Yanji hummed: “The transfer order will be uploaded to the military information channel within six hours.”

 

The underground city area and District Five were separated by nearly two thousand kilometers. Being stationed at both locations meant they’d likely never meet again in this lifetime.

 

**

---