EDEH Chapter 126

Just as Huo Yanji reached the manor entrance, Ling Gen arrived with nearly a thousand troops.

 

Huo Yanji said: “The manor still belongs to my private territory. Is Lieutenant Colonel Ling bringing so many people to trespass?”

 

This stemmed from a proposal half a month ago.

 

The manor was full of burial walls, significant to all survivors with extremely high historical legacy value. Since that was the case, why not convert the manor to public territory, giving people the right to visit freely?

 

This proposal was directly rejected by Huo Yanji without stating any reasons.

 

To others, this seemed tyrannical and domineering, but the manor was Huo Yanji’s private territory to begin with. Rejection needed no reason—agreement did.

 

Ling Gen said anxiously: “Let me in! The search warrant will arrive immediately.”

 

“Then wait until the warrant arrives before acting.”

 

Huo Yanji raised his hand, and soldiers below immediately blocked the manor entrance. Ling Gen turned to glare at Huo Yanji angrily, the atmosphere between the two armies becoming explosive.

 

“Huo Yanji, don’t be too absurd!” Ling Gen’s tone was full of anger: “You knew long ago he wasn’t human and came from over a hundred years ago, didn’t you?”

 

This question was what Ling Gen had figured out on the way.

 

Initially he naively thought Huo Yanji knew nothing, but thinking again on the way here, Sang Jue had so many non-human flaws that even he, a slow scatterbrain, could discover them. How could Huo Yanji have no suspicions at all?

 

Huo Yanji neither agreed nor denied, his brow and eyes ice cold.

 

Ling Gen’s chest heaved violently with anger: “No matter how absurd, there must be limits. What do you want by being with a monster for so long!? Have you forgotten how many compatriots those monsters have killed over the centuries!? Don’t forget you’re human!!”

 

Huo Yanji didn’t make meaningless defenses like “Sang Jue never killed anyone.”

 

To always-proud humans, all controllable existences ranked below humanity itself, while all uncontrollable power was enemy.

 

Regardless of whether Sang Jue was useful to humans, they wouldn’t tolerate a thinking monster freely coming and going in human skin.

 

But… the term ‘little monster’ that was intimate between the two of them sounded so grating when spoken by others.

 

Huo Yanji had no response to Ling Gen’s questioning.

 

Both had come hastily without raincoats. Pattering rain fell on them as Huo Yanji’s tall figure stood at the manor entrance, his motionless military boots indicating an attitude of absolute non-compromise.

 

Soon, the military search warrant arrived. However, at the same moment, the manor gates opened and Deputy Zhang Min, who had also brought a team of soldiers, emerged from inside, meeting Ling Gen’s shocked gaze.

 

Zhang Min quickly walked to Huo Yanji and said quietly: “Sir, he’s gone.”

 

Huo Yanji lowered his eyes, his thin lips pressed into a straight line appearing more indifferent than usual.

 

Ling Gen frowned. He assessed the number of soldiers behind Zhang Min, his indignant momentum weakening as he looked suspiciously at Huo Yanji: “…Are you planning to hand over Sang Jue?”

 

Huo Yanji ignored him and asked: “Is the aircraft still there?”

 

Zhang Min answered: “Yes.”

 

Ling Gen beside them felt increasingly wrong. Before coming, he’d already checked surveillance—Sang Jue hadn’t left after returning to the manor. The surveillance room also had people watching who would immediately notify him if Sang Jue left.

 

“You wouldn’t be putting on an act, would you?” Ling Gen’s eyes were sharp as he said heavily: “This kind of matter concerning racial survival can’t be handled emotionally.”

 

Huo Yanji lifted his eyelids: “Racial survival?”

 

Ling Gen paused, suddenly realizing—

 

The research institute had translated yesterday’s underground audio information through frequency adjustment. Combined with the old general revealing rumors that Dr. Anya had a child during her lifetime who wasn’t human, they accurately connected the evil dragon that appeared in the main city two months ago with Sang Jue.

 

But those who knew this information were temporarily controlled at the research institute, forbidden from external contact. So why would Huo Yanji suddenly make responsive reactions?

 

“So you don’t know what Sang Jue’s true form is… He’s not just a dragon.”

 

Huo Yanji seemed uncurious, his tone flat: “Since the warrant has arrived, Lieutenant Colonel Ling might as well go in and search.”

 

Actually, with the authority Huo Yanji currently wielded, if he really didn’t want Ling Gen to enter, Ling Gen had no recourse.

 

The search warrant could be issued only because the military law department was very fair and upright.

 

Such major incident warrants usually required collective decisions from the military law department plus district commanders to pass. But military law department personnel were almost all promoted from supervisor executives—if not all, at least seventy percent were Huo Yanji’s former people.

 

It would be too easy for Huo Yanji to cultivate influence and form factions, but he’d never done so.

 

Ling Gen turned to his subordinates: “Search! Don’t miss a single corner!”

 

“Yes!”

 

Huo Yanji watched the backs of Ling Gen’s troops filing in until they dispersed throughout the manor, then stepped inside.

 

Zhang Min asked: “Sir, do you need any preparations?”

 

“No need. Everything as usual—do what needs to be done.”

 

“…Yes.”

 

Zhang Min stopped, watching Huo Yanji’s retreating figure, feeling a sourness in his heart—not for himself, but for the general who had returned to his former solitude.

 

He had always known the general wouldn’t easily fall for anyone, so he had hidden his feelings well—not to keep Huo Yanji from knowing, but to avoid causing trouble.

 

Fortunately, Huo Yanji saw through his thoughts and never exposed him over the years. Apart from official business, there wasn’t even the slightest extra contact, leaving him no room for fantasy. So over the years, they coexisted peacefully, and his romantic feelings had long since transformed—

 

From youthful fantasies of being together to what remained now was mostly admiration and respect.

 

For someone like Huo Yanji to be trapped by personal feelings would be too regrettable.

 

There was only one Huo Yanji—whether this was the era’s fortune or tragedy was unclear.

 

Before Sang Jue appeared, Huo Yanji always carried an indescribable sense of destiny—powerful but lonely, indifferent yet loving.

 

Zhang Min once thought the general might be destined to never be understood, destined to be abandoned by all, finally sacrificing himself on the altar of ideals… Tragedies always had that tearful beauty.

 

Until Sang Jue appeared, diluting much of that tragic destiny—as an adjutant who had assisted him for years, Zhang Min felt this more intensely than anyone.

 

From day one, Zhang Min knew Sang Jue was different.

 

It wasn’t that Huo Yanji didn’t fall in love easily—the person just wasn’t right.

 

Sang Jue’s appearance gave Huo Yanji humanity, making him no longer like a cold weapon.

 

And just now, upon hearing no one was found in the manor, the emotions on Huo Yanji seemed to drain away like a tide, more profound than his past indifference.

 

Huo Yanji was still there, yet also not there anymore.

 

Unlike Ling Gen’s subordinates searching everywhere, Huo Yanji went straight to the small house. He didn’t go upstairs but came to the lakeside in the light rain—

 

There had been a tombstone here.

 

Now the tombstone was gone, leaving only a muddy deep pit.

 

Sang Jue had taken the doctor away and left Huo Yanji behind.

 

…

 

“Report, nothing here!”

 

“Report, nothing here either!”

 

Ling Gen glanced at Huo Yanji standing by the lake lost in thought, frowning deeply. He had just contacted the surveillance building—they were certain Sang Jue had never left the manor… and no evil dragon had appeared in the sky either.

 

“Withdraw!” Passing the lakeshore, Ling Gen paused and said to Huo Yanji: “I hope you remember the survivor’s oath and don’t do anything treacherous.”

 

Ling Gen was impatient but not lacking in emotional intelligence.

 

He shouldn’t have said such offensive words, but he didn’t have much time left. Lin Shuyi, Huo Jiangmian—these high-ranking representatives one by one tested genetically unstable with limited time. With two and a half years until the thirty-year mark, he should be next soon.

 

He only hoped to see everything settled before death, to have someone excellent and strong enough to lead survivors forward in an orderly manner.

 

But the only candidate was entangled with a monster.

 

News of Sang Jue being non-human was still under embargo—unthinkable if it leaked.

 

Frequent establishment and collapse of leadership images would only make people increasingly unable to trust officials.

 

“Once you’ve arranged things, come to the research institute. Everyone’s there—you should also hear what Sang Jue really is.” Ling Gen left this statement and departed empty-handed.

 

After standing by the lake for a while, Huo Yanji walked toward the aircraft. The cabin door was open—clearly Sang Jue’s handiwork, since normally the door stayed closed.

 

Ling Gen had already searched it with his people. The aircraft was empty except for cold equipment, and even the gems from the hanging nest were gone.

 

Huo Yanji returned to the small house. The room was also empty—everything related to Sang Jue had vanished without leaving anything behind.

 

Then again, there hadn’t been much related to Sang Jue to begin with.

 

Huo Yanji opened the wardrobe to look. Sang Jue had taken even his clothes and stolen several of his as well.

 

After a long while, a low murmur came from the empty room: “Petty thing.”

 

…

 

Lillian was brought to the research institute by Huo Yanji’s people, with Liao Te following closely, his protective stance very clear.

 

Everyone found Lillian’s existence incredible. How could someone from over a hundred years ago still be alive? But according to Lillian’s description, she had spent the surface’s hundred-plus years underground, which in her perception was only a few years.

 

Was this possible?

 

People would rather believe she had really lived over a hundred years, just that her body was affected by underground substances and wouldn’t age.

 

But if what Lillian said was true, then regarding these frequency-disrupted communications—did the voices penetrate through to the future, or did past people like Lillian survive the passage of time and request communication in the present?

 

But the latter seemed unlikely.

 

After all, Lillian’s state when first emerging from underground was very chaotic, while Dr. Luce and General Huo Feng in the clear audio seemed to still be in periods shortly after going underground, still maintaining rationality.

 

“In the same space, could time flow differently? Unbelievable.”

 

Dr. Eugene said slowly: “People once proposed the ‘time dilation principle’—time flow is closely related to speed. The faster an object moves, the slower time flows, but this theory’s prerequisite is non-gravitational field conditions with object speeds approaching light speed.”

 

“…” Everyone stared at each other. In an extremely education-deficient apocalypse, no one except researchers could understand this.

 

“There’s another theory.” Eugene cleaned his glasses and took a deep breath: “Everything we can see with our naked eyes is matter. Where force exists, matter must exist…”

 

“Say something understandable.”

 

Eugene gave up: “You know about magnetic fields, right? There’s a theory that says the stronger the magnetic field, the slower material motion, meaning time moves slower. The weaker the magnetic field, the faster material motion and time flow.”

 

“So there might be a strong magnetic field underground?” Most people’s understanding of magnetic fields was limited to the artificial magnetic field at the underground city’s solar base station.

 

“It’s just possible—there could be other things.” Eugene adjusted his glasses: “After all, all human theoretical knowledge is relatively narrow.”

 

“…Listening to you is like listening to nothing at all.”

 

Hill’s golden hair was quite striking. She turned to look through the super-thick glass at the research hall outside: “Regardless of the era, human understanding of the underground has been very limited. There have been countless speculations but never any corroboration.”

 

For example, the famous hollow earth theory was derived by measuring planetary weight and comparing it to size.

 

Some believed this planet existed like nesting dolls—one sphere inside another, with the surface being the outermost and largest sphere. The gaps between spheres might contain environments suitable for life.

 

Besides this, there were ethereal stories of underground people, some believing the underground was where devils or gods resided, others proposing that the planet’s center was a powerful magnetic field…

 

Chaotic theories abounded with no one convincing anyone else.

 

Though the rift depths were still far from the planetary core, after the underground split open, they became the deepest and most extensive underground space humans could explore.

 

“However…” Hill turned to look at Lillian, who had put her hood back on and seemed ethereally absent from this world: “You followed Dr. Luce down from Rift No. 2 but emerged from Rift No. 7?”

 

“I’m not sure where that was.” Lillian said slowly: “Liao Te just told me he met me at Rift No. 7.”

 

Liao Te behind her remained silent.

 

Another researcher was somewhat excited: “Could this suggest a hypothesis that the rift depths are connected?”

 

Everyone was stunned.

 

The twelve surface rifts were mostly distinct, with only Rift Nine’s tail end connecting slightly to Rift Ten’s middle section. But the underground space’s actual size remained impossible to determine. If comparing the planet to a sphere, if the central rift was larger than the surface, the sphere should collapse—so underground space could only be smaller than surface rift area.

 

But it was hard to say, since planets weren’t perfectly spherical.

 

Humans could stand on the surface due to gravity and magnetic fields, areas where human exploration was still too limited.

 

Everyone’s expressions were complex and grave until an hour later, when the other protagonist of this matter, Huo Yanji, finally arrived. As always, he was cold and composed, as if nothing could break him.

 

Ling Gen had arrived early, observed briefly, then looked away without speaking.

 

The old general met Huo Yanji’s gaze with unchanged expression: “Since everyone’s here, let’s all listen again and have Lillian identify voices in the audio.”

 

This was the audio Sang Jue had heard yesterday but claimed had no sound.

 

Through continuous frequency adjustment, Dr. Eugene had successfully restored the original voices.

 

Hill beside them looked worriedly at Huo Yanji, then down at her communicator screen where an unanswered call to Sang Jue was visible.

 

Seeing Huo Yanji arrive without Sang Jue following, Hill knew Sang Jue had left.

 

Her feelings were indescribable. As a human and researcher, she naturally wanted to understand Sang Jue’s secrets.

 

But Hill also knew humans could look down on all life precisely because humans were sufficiently unique—no other species could think, use tools, or persistently research truth…

 

Sang Jue’s arrival had burst humanity’s balloon of assumed supremacy. With logical ability, preferences, and freedom from genetic control, Sang Jue could be called a higher existence than humans.

 

He had no reason to submit to humanity.

 

The big screen showed restored frequency audio wave lines: “Buzz…”

 

After slight electrical static, a gasping female voice came through. She seemed to be in some hollow environment, mentally on the verge of collapse. The audio even clearly transmitted heartbeat sounds—thump… thump…

 

Like mysterious drum beats in the dark night, each more urgent than the last.

 

“I… I don’t know if you can hear my voice… This is my 171st day wandering alone in darkness. I’m not sure if that’s accurate—just time judgment based on body hunger patterns… I don’t even know if I’m awake or in some absurd dream—”

 

“If anyone hears this… please, please deliver this audio to Dr. Anya at Noah Heights Research Institute.”

 

Everyone paused before realizing what Noah Heights Research Institute was.

 

They hadn’t heard that name in a long time—people now called it “Wastewater.”

 

The old general watched pale, fragile Lillian and asked: “Do you recognize this voice?”

 

Lillian raised both hands and slowly removed her hood. Calm tears pooled in her eyes, shed for an old friend.

 

She murmured: “Long time no see… Ms. Millie.”

 

Huo Yanji’s expression showed no change from beginning to end until a barely audible message notification sounded in his ear.

 

He imperceptibly moved his fingertips, pressing the message playback key. A cold mechanical voice recited even colder text—

 

“The doctor doesn’t want me, 007 doesn’t want me, you don’t want me either, so I don’t want you anymore.”

 

It was better this way.

 

T/N: QAQ

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