EDEH Chapter 129

News about Sang Jue’s identity and related information remained under embargo—not for any other reason, but to avoid damaging Huo Yanji’s reputation among the people.

 

Disputes also arose among high-ranking officials about whether to send a team to Eye of Paradise to investigate and find the place where Dr. Millie mentioned the “door” was placed.

 

Since Sang Jue was the door, there must be a “door frame.”

 

But now the safe zones were in a period of sluggish reconstruction, with insufficient personnel and military strength. Dispatching people to Eye of Paradise at this time would be like draining the cauldron.

 

Most importantly, they couldn’t confirm whether such a place existed in the rift depths, or whether Sang Jue could truly end everything.

 

Perhaps it was just Dr. Millie’s dying delirium… they might end up empty-handed.

 

“Or should we have District Two send people down first?”

 

“With District Two’s current situation, if we make them split their attention again, that district might as well be written off.”

 

Though ranking second among all safe zones and having persisted from ninety years ago to today without being destroyed, District Two’s situation was not optimistic.

 

Once upon a time, they had relied on superior geographical location and Eye of Paradise’s rich mineral resources to be extremely prosperous, but twenty years ago, they suddenly suffered earthquakes, several extreme weather events, and contaminated monster devastation, gradually declining to their current state of barely surviving.

 

“Let’s find Sang Jue first.” The old general rubbed his temples, saying heavily: “Yanji said before that Sang Jue can likely copy any biological genes, which means the possibility of us finding and controlling him is almost nil.”

 

“…” Like a bucket of ice water, thoroughly drenching everyone.

 

Yes, if Sang Jue could copy any biological genes, how could they find him?

 

Only now did they realize that the seemingly frail and vulnerable Sang Jue wasn’t someone ordinary people could easily deal with. Even if he appeared harmless, they couldn’t be careless.

 

“General Huo has been with Sang Jue for so long, he should understand him better…”

 

The old general glanced over: “So what if he understands? Can you trust him one hundred percent? If we don’t catch him, do we blame General Huo for lying and covering up? If we do catch him, do we credit him with righteously destroying his family?”

 

Everyone’s expressions stiffened.

 

Huo Yanji’s current position was too sensitive—not only at the center of power, but also the only ordinary person.

 

With the announcement of the Dawn Plan, deviants’ status had completely collapsed—after all, they were just a group with limited time left. But it would also cause much debate among ordinary people, such as—

 

Walking toward a dead end in deception like this, would deviants be content? Would they cause major trouble before death, completely suppressing ordinary people’s status?

 

Under such suspicion, ordinary people who comprised over half of survivors naturally wouldn’t watch Huo Yanji, the rare ordinary person among high-ranking officials, fall.

 

Besides this, Huo Yanji’s current reputation among deviants was also good. Just the manor that recorded both deviants’ and ordinary people’s names without distinction was enough for him to stand firm on the high platform.

 

Unless he made a major mistake someday.

 

But would Huo Yanji make mistakes? Would the always self-disciplined Supreme Executive be with Sang Jue purely due to physiological desires?

 

If there were feelings, what proportion did those feelings occupy in Huo Yanji’s heart?

 

No one knew clearly, no one dared speculate wildly.

 

·

 

As expected, despite city-wide martial law for nearly a month, no one discovered any trace of Sang Jue. He seemed to have vanished into thin air, disappearing without a trace.

 

Instead, mercenaries entering and leaving the city gates complained loudly, dissatisfied with why leaving the city suddenly had so many procedures—not only testing contamination levels but also checking personal belongings, the kind of naked inspection.

 

If such checks when entering the city were understandable, having so many procedures for leaving was puzzling.

 

Some guessed humanoid creatures had infiltrated the city, others guessed rebel leaders from wanted lists were in the city, so checks were strict to prevent escapes.

 

As for curfew, most people accepted it well, since the curfew system had been implemented for years since Huo Yanji came to power, becoming a life habit ingrained in their bones.

 

No one knew these major moves were all for a beautiful, harmless little monster.

 

“Why are you leaving the city?”

 

“I took a mission…”

 

The soldier looked this person up and down, then at the contamination reading of zero.

 

They weren’t clear about the specific reasons for martial law, only knowing the higher-ups had particularly strict requirements for certain types of people leaving the city—such as ordinary people without contamination.

 

“Pass, ID card, take them out.” The soldier pulled up files and randomly asked: “Where do you live?”

 

“District A, Fengyun Building, Block 17, c1-1102.”

 

“How many people have family relationships bound with you?”

 

“Two.”

 

“What are they to you respectively?”

 

The questioned mercenary found these questions extremely strange: “One is my adopted daughter, one is my husband.”

 

Only after repeatedly confirming basic relationships several times did the soldier allow passage—this was also required from above.

 

Sang Jue could copy biological genes. He could become “Sang Jue,” so naturally he could also become passerby A or passerby B—just a matter of killing and consuming someone.

 

People wouldn’t put high moral standards on a monster—killing was the norm.

 

But the ‘people’ Sang Jue became had one characteristic: he had no contamination properties, and even when tested, contamination levels would show zero. Since those seeking resources in the wild were mostly deviants, having one or two ordinary people suddenly wanting to go out seemed very suspicious.

 

Under the city wall, crowds gathered as two figures stood side by side at the high tower, overlooking the throng below.

 

Due to insufficient personnel, the task of city wall defense had recently been transferred to Tang Bai. He turned his head to look at that sharp, cold face: “Do you really think this can find Sang Jue?”

 

Huo Yanji said flatly: “I don’t think so.”

 

Tang Bai paused: “Then why are you still…”

 

“Sang Jue won’t kill people randomly.” Huo Yanji gazed peacefully into the distance. “But they won’t think so.”

 

For most people, they had no understanding of Sang Jue whatsoever. The only thing they could be certain of was that Sang Jue wasn’t human.

 

People always liked to pray to gods and had tendencies to admire strength, but when beings truly more powerful than humans appeared, they would panic and classify them as dangerous elements.

 

It was like when everyone had no guns except for one resident—then people would spare no effort in speculating about that person with the greatest malice.

 

“Not killing now doesn’t mean never killing.”

 

Only by doing everything they should do could they be left speechless.

 

Tang Bai was silent for a while: “I will always believe in you, General.”

 

But belief had weight.

 

Just like responsibility also had indescribable weight, pressing heavily on one’s shoulders.

 

The communicator rang: “Beep beep—”

 

Huo Yanji answered the call: “What is it?”

 

After a few words from the other side, Huo Yanji immediately hung up, nodded slightly to Tang Bai, and strode away.

 

Tang Bai watched his former superior’s retreating figure for a while, then turned to look down at the city gate where people queued for inspection, his eyes deep and thoughtful.

 

With so many recent incidents, even he as a major general occasionally wavered—did all their years of reckless sacrifice and dedication truly have meaning?

 

…

 

In the research institute’s laboratory, only four or five people were present.

 

Fu Xi frowned deeply: “It’s been a month and there’s still no news of Sang Jue. I’m afraid he’s already escaped the city.”

 

“With the current level of martial law, theoretically even a fly couldn’t get out…”

 

“So Sang Jue must still be in the city.” Ling Gen’s eyes were deep. “I’ll dig him out sooner or later.”

 

The old general glanced at him: “You arranged the surveillance around Yanji’s manor?”

 

Ling Gen admitted: “We don’t understand Sang Jue’s nature, but if he might still seek out anyone after the incident, it would only be General Huo and the aircraft in the manor.”

 

“That’s a conclusion you drew based on human emotions.” Eugene cleaned his glasses countless times a day. “Sang Jue isn’t human—he might not even fall within the category of living beings. How can you be sure he has feelings for General Huo?”

 

Ling Gen lifted his eyelids: “Do we have any other methods?”

 

Eugene fell silent.

 

The sound of swiping access cards came from outside the door, along with steady footsteps. Everyone looked over in unison as a tall, straight figure came into view.

 

Huo Yanji walked quickly over and asked: “What’s the matter?”

 

Hill, who had been silent, looked up and handed over a stack of reports: “I conducted a detailed examination of Lillian’s body some time ago. Apart from red blood cell and hemoglobin concentrations far below normal values, there were no other abnormalities, until two days ago when I compared her blood samples and genes with Sang Jue’s.”

 

Sang Jue had blood drawn twice—

 

Once when he first arrived and Huo Yanji suspected his identity, having Eugene draw blood for genetic testing. Once before the ant lion battle when Sang Jue was mistaken for a deviant and voluntarily underwent genetic testing.

 

During the latter instance, Hill had kept a backup blood sample of Sang Jue’s.

 

Huo Yanji didn’t waste words: “Results?”

 

Hill said concisely: “The paternity index between Sang Jue and Lillian is as high as 99.999%.”

 

Paternity indices were usually used to test blood relationships between two parties, typically requiring indices above 99.95%. But Sang Jue and Lillian, two people who had no connection whatsoever, had a paternity index as high as 99.999%—it was too shocking.

 

Huo Yanji asked: “Besides blood relations, what other situations could lead to this result?”

 

Hill paused: “It’s just a theory that can’t be 100% confirmed—Lillian’s physical changes were very likely due to being infected by Sang Jue.”

 

“But during Lillian’s time underground, Sang Jue should have been in the spacecraft in outer space. How could he infect Lillian?” Ling Gen glanced meaningfully at Huo Yanji. “And doesn’t Sang Jue lack contaminating properties?”

 

If Sang Jue could infect people, then Huo Yanji, who had been intimate with him, should have had problems long ago.

 

Hill said: “Perhaps there were substances left by Sang Jue’s original form underground, or perhaps there are beings similar to Sang Jue still existing underground. The infection methods are all uncertain.”

 

“These conclusions far exceed our understanding. With current technological levels, we cannot explain or comprehend these existences.” Eugene explained. “The only thing we can confirm is that Sang Jue indeed comes from underground, from some place Lillian visited. What Dr. Millie said in the transmission probably wasn’t nonsense.”

 

Regarding the last statement, Hill held a different opinion: “I’ve listened to Dr. Millie’s audio several times again these past few days. Its authenticity is questionable.”

 

The old general suddenly looked up: “How so?”

 

“She said at the end, ‘I am guilty, I repent.’ Initially I thought she was repenting to her child, but after careful consideration, it probably wasn’t that.”

 

“She said she stayed underground for 171 days, calculated by her body’s hunger rate.” Hill said. “I had 007 check the data. When Dr. Luce led the team down, they only planned to stay underground for fifty days, so they brought less than two months’ worth of dry rations. So how did she survive for nearly six months?”

 

By eating companions’ stored food?

 

Unless the companions died. But according to known information, apart from easily getting separated underground, no monsters had been definitively found that could harm them.

 

Most terrifyingly, people underground faced magnetic field issues that disabled electronic devices, making it impossible to determine time and easy to fall into panic.

 

The cold environment and unbalanced body levels, using body hunger rate to determine time, could easily make oneself hunger faster. It would be easy to continuously use eating to provide bodily satisfaction, so two months’ worth of food might be consumed in a month and a half.

 

“You mean… cannibalism?”

 

“Or murder for food.” Hill shook her head. “Dr. Millie’s claim about ‘something contaminating her thoughts and brain, making her heart filled only with fear and endless evil’ might just be an excuse to vent the guilt after committing crimes.”

 

Eugene shook his head: “Actually, there’s been a very popular theory for a long time that we might live in a multi-dimensional space with several worlds existing, just with different magnetic field frequencies, so we can hardly perceive each other and they can hardly affect us—like the widely circulated ghosts of the past.

 

“So I actually think those underground vines and monsters Dr. Millie mentioned might really exist.”

 

“…”

 

This theory wasn’t unreasonable.

 

“Contamination” had not yet been definitively characterized in current human research. It was silent and colorless, like the “dark matter” that had been widely discussed in physics for a long time.

 

“Contamination” might very well be similar energy—though invisible, intangible, and even unverifiable, it had definitely caused irreversible effects on organisms.

 

However, Ling Gen wasn’t a researcher and didn’t care about these details: “As long as we confirm Sang Jue comes from underground, this matter must be investigated to the end.”

 

Hill hummed in agreement. Both she and Eugene showed fatigue in their eyes, and many other researchers were the same—they hadn’t slept all night.

 

“Besides that, we also discovered an extremely special substance in Sang Jue’s and Lillian’s blood samples. Previous equipment couldn’t detect it until we conducted unlimited magnification observation of the blood samples last night, leading to new discoveries.”

 

Huo Yanji asked: “What does this mean?”

 

“This might be related to Sang Jue’s true form, but due to its extremely small mass, it cannot be extracted.” Hill said slowly: “But do you remember the crystal gems from Eye of Paradise?”

 

Eye of Paradise valley had rich mineral resources. Many newly named crystals and gems originated from the post-collapse world—either from rifts or original mineral substances that changed due to underground contamination.

 

But whether the former or latter, their essential cause was the rifts.

 

Huo Yanji’s eyes moved slightly. Sang Jue liked eating gems to supplement certain substances.

 

But the biological species near Eye of Paradise were extremely limited, mostly just corrosive monsters or vegetation besides dragons.

 

—Previously humans thought this was because dragon-type monsters had strong territorial consciousness and couldn’t tolerate other creatures. But thinking about it now, could it be that nearby organisms underwent bodily changes due to underground influence, requiring gem-type substances to survive, but except for dragons and corrosive monsters, other creatures lacked the ability to digest gems and thus couldn’t survive near Eye of Paradise?

 

Hill said: “Most crystals from Eye of Paradise can be melted at high temperatures and won’t become graphite like past gems, but turn into flowing liquid the same color as the gems. Since no use was found, there wasn’t much research—”

 

“Consistent with substances in Sang Jue’s body?”

 

Hill shook her head: “No, as I just said, the substance in the blood samples is too small to extract. But from Dr. Millie’s account, when Sang Jue was first brought back to the research institute, he wasn’t in human form or evil dragon form either. I checked the Sang Jue materials 007 organized and found no related images or text, so I asked 007, who witnessed it personally, to describe it. It said Sang Jue’s original form was also a flowing substance with faint colorful manifestations.”

 

Ling Gen described with his limited vocabulary: “A combination of various colored gems after melting?”

 

Hill said: “Just similar—without confirmed data comparison, no conclusion can be drawn.”

 

Ling Gen took a deep breath: “In summary, Sang Jue definitely comes from underground, and Dr. Millie’s talk about the door isn’t complete nonsense.”

 

“So the urgent task is to quickly catch… find Sang Jue.” The word “catch” was half-spoken before Fu Xi held it back upon meeting Huo Yanji’s gaze.

 

Ling Gen stood up to leave.

 

Passing by Huo Yanji, he turned sideways, raised his hand to adjust the military insignia on Huo Yanji’s shoulder, finally patting it twice heavily with unclear meaning: “Even if there’s only a thread of hope to end contamination, we can’t give up.”

 

Huo Yanji brushed away his hand, tone indifferent: “Of course.”

 

Each gathering always had a somewhat tense atmosphere.

 

Everyone left the research institute successively, with Huo Yanji being the last. Passing through the long corridor, he saw Liao Te in the glass laboratory room, silently guarding by Lillian’s side.

 

Liao Te was different from other high-ranking officials. He’d suffered from childhood, using all his strength just to survive. Later choosing ‘evolution,’ he became a low-level deviant with ruined appearance, enduring discrimination and unfair treatment.

 

So his heart held no ideals or spirit of sacrifice—whoever treated him well, he’d help.

 

Huo Yanji had saved him, so he helped Huo Yanji.

 

He cared about Lillian, so he could give everything for her.

 

Essentially, Liao Te and Huo Yanji were completely different people.

 

Huo Yanji stood outside the glass for a while before leaving the research institute. At the roadside, Zhang Min sat in the driver’s seat waiting, with accompanying soldiers opening the car door for Huo Yanji.

 

Huo Yanji said: “To the communications building.”

 

Zhang Min: “Yes.”

 

The rapidly moving car fell into silent atmosphere. Of course, Huo Yanji’s subordinates were used to this—they’d spent many years this way until later when a beautiful youth appeared beside the general.

 

After the youth left, Huo Yanji’s surroundings returned to former coldness, even more so—

 

“Tap…”

 

A barely audible sound came. Huo Yanji, who was looking out the window, turned his head and frowned: “What sound?”

 

The deviant soldier in the passenger seat listened intently for a moment, his face changing drastically.

 

“It’s a bomb!”

 

In two seconds, the soldier not only unbuckled his seatbelt and threw his military jacket at Huo Yanji, but also lunged forward at maximum speed, trying to use his flesh and blood to block the explosion’s damage—

 

“BOOM—!!”

 

A tremendous explosion erupted on the street side, flames shooting skyward with smoke flying everywhere.

 

In the last moment before consciousness faded, Huo Yanji suddenly realized something—

 

When they parted at the laboratory earlier, Ling Gen’s adjustment of his military insignia and shoulder pat wasn’t a warning or oath of determination to catch Sang Jue, but testing whether he was wearing a bulletproof vest.

 

**

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