EDEH Chapter 135

When planning to use Huo Yanji as bait to draw out Sang Jue, hadn’t Ling Gen considered the possibility of Sang Jue appearing and then escaping?

 

He had naturally considered it.

 

Therefore, after the explosion, while rescuing Huo Yanji, Ling Gen had the doctor implant a micro positioning chip in Huo Yanji’s body.

 

The first six days went smoothly. The chip maintained a weak signal throughout. He had argued against opposition, saying that capturing Sang Jue and bringing back Major General Huo would be his final mission. Afterward, he would personally walk into military court to plead guilty, accepting whatever fate awaited him.

 

Until this morning, when it suddenly showed the chip had been destroyed.

 

He immediately rushed over with his men, only to find an empty aircraft with nothing around but a extinguished campfire.

 

Ling Gen wasn’t certain whether Huo Yanji had destroyed the chip himself, but after his probing question, Huo Yanji had actually asked him what he was talking about.

 

He instantly realized that at least today, this morning, the Major General Huo that humanity trusted and revered had stood on the side of a little monster.

 

Ling Gen clenched his teeth: “How could you…”

 

“How could I?” Huo Yanji repeated the words, then stepped past Ling Gen, “How do I know who implanted the chip? With what purpose, and what they want to do to me? Is its function to kill me or just positioning?”

 

“…”

 

Huo Yanji turned back, saying coldly: “Major General Ling, all plans that haven’t gone through proper approval are conspiracies—they will not be executed under my watch.”

 

Ling Gen clenched his fist: “Even setting aside my plan, you clearly could have brought Sang Jue back.”

 

“How?”

 

“You…” The words about to spill from his lips were swallowed. Sweet words and coaxing deception perhaps made Major General Ling Gen, who had always lived only for ‘Dawn’, realize—it was too despicable.

 

Was it right to place humanity’s future hopes on an individual from another species?

 

At least from humanity’s perspective, it wasn’t wrong.

 

Humans had always centered on self-interest; everything outside their species was irrelevant.

 

Who hadn’t lived this way?

 

Wolves wouldn’t care if the flock was destroyed—survival and satiation were most important. Whether the sheep hurt, whether they feared and panicked, didn’t matter.

 

The difference between humans and wolves was just some compassion, but this compassion seemed so insignificant in the face of survival.

 

Ling Gen closed his eyes, took a deep breath and turned around: “Spread out and search the surrounding area!”

 

“Yes!”

 

More than one military unit had come—Huo Yanji’s adjutant Song Li was also there.

 

Seeing Huo Yanji walking toward him, safe and sound, he sighed in relief: “Sir, it’s so good that you’re unharmed!”

 

Huo Yanji asked: “How is Deputy Zhang?”

 

Song Li looked troubled: “Still unconscious.”

 

Huo Yanji’s expression turned ice-cold as he looked back, glancing at Ling Gen’s distant figure.

 

He continued asking: “What about Lieutenant Lin?”

 

Song Li answered truthfully: “When rescue arrived, Lieutenant Lin had already stopped breathing.”

 

Lieutenant Lin was the deviant who had been co-pilot during the explosion—usually a quiet, taciturn soldier. He had no grand ideals and wasn’t eager for quick success. His choice to become an aberrant was simply to protect the friends around him and the elderly mother who had adopted him.

 

Perhaps he had never thought before that he would meet such an ending.

 

Huo Yanji’s face seemed covered with frost: “Provide adequate benefits to the family.”

 

“Yes.” Song Li said, “Sir, should we return to the city now or…”

 

“No, let’s go to another place first.”

 

The two teams went in opposite directions, with only Ling Gen leaving part of his forces to guard near the aircraft.

 

The further west they went, the thicker the sandstorm became.

 

The buildings ahead gradually donned yellow coats, occasionally revealing glimpses of their tops. Huo Yanji put on his protective mask, his coat corners flapping loudly in the wind.

 

He stood in the ruins with a compass for a while, then after confirming direction said: “Secure gun ropes at eleven o’clock, fifty meters away. Four people go down first to scout.”

 

“Yes!”

 

This was the buried underground library that Ji Zhen had mentioned.

 

In just over an hour, Huo Yanji seemed to have withdrawn from weakness and tenderness. The dragon’s Yanji had disappeared—he had become Major General Huo of the human survivors once again.

 

Huo Yanji counted down: “Get ready, three, two, one—down!”

 

…

 

Sang Jue seemed to still be lingering in that kiss.

 

Huo Yanji had told him to close his eyes, the touch on his lips very gentle. Huo Yanji cradled his neck, embraced his waist and said: “I want to become one with you.”

 

He wanted to speak but couldn’t make a sound.

 

But he thought secretly that they couldn’t become one—he was reluctant to eat up Yanji.

 

An eaten-up Yanji would only become one of his skins, unable to kiss him, unable to hold him, unable to talk with him.

 

He wanted kisses, wanted embraces, wanted that natural flowing thick love.

 

But it seemed he could no longer have it, even without eating up Yanji.

 

He remained motionless, a voice constantly in his ear saying: “Open your eyes, Sang Jue.”

 

He stubbornly ignored it, probably knowing that as soon as he opened his eyes, Huo Yanji would disappear.

 

But dreams must end eventually—people can’t keep their eyes closed forever, and neither can dragons.

 

“We should go.” Ji Zhen carried two bags and said.

 

Sang Jue sat on the bed hugging his legs, back against the wall, staring at the doorway: “I’m not going. You go.”

 

Evelyn asked: “Stay here waiting for him? Can you actually wait for him?”

 

Ji Zhen’s expression was blank: “Probably can wait for Major General Huo and his army.”

 

“…” Sang Jue coldly met Ji Zhen’s gaze, his eyes dark and deep.

 

“Why be obsessed with a heartless man?” Evelyn’s eyes curved as she smiled, “He loves you, but he can’t possibly love only you.”

 

“He only loves me.” Sang Jue said stubbornly.

 

His feelings were never wrong.

 

Evelyn shook her head and chuckled: “Little monsters are so obstinate. You must understand, he’s always human first—there are too many things more important than his personal feelings.”

 

In that instant, Sang Jue just wanted to devour the two people in front of him.

 

Because he couldn’t refute them with words.

 

Before today, he had never thought Huo Yanji would scheme against him… while they were kissing.

 

His lower back where the needle had pierced still ached faintly—perhaps it would hurt for a lifetime.

 

Ji Zhen lifted the slightly smaller bag in her hand: “Your gems and game console are in the bag. If you don’t want them, I’ll take them.”

 

Sang Jue suddenly understood that Huo Yanji had already discussed everything with Ji Zhen beforehand. During their afternoon absence, they had gone to the aircraft to get his backpack.

 

Huo Yanji’s fever and going out with him to find fever medicine—it was all planned.

 

Despicable humans.

 

He stared at the backpack for a while, stood up, and slowly followed behind Ji Zhen.

 

Ji Zhen’s cold voice came: “A prince risking everything for a princess and becoming enemy to the whole world—that only happens in fairy tales.”

 

“I’m not a princess.”

 

“A prince would never become enemy to the whole world for a dragon.”

 

“…”

 

It was wrong from the beginning. If Huo Yanji were an ordinary person and he an ordinary little monster, perhaps they could have ignored everything, left the crowds, and wandered freely in the wilderness.

 

But Huo Yanji wasn’t ordinary, and Sang Jue wasn’t an ordinary little monster either.

 

Not long after they left, they heard the sound of marching troops.

 

Unable to resist Sang Jue’s stubbornness, the three hadn’t gone far. Instead, they climbed to the tenth-plus floor of a tall building, looking down at the street below.

 

Among the flesh wrapped in neat military uniforms, not one belonged to Huo Yanji.

 

Ji Zhen asked: “Can we go now?”

 

Sang Jue didn’t speak, but he turned around.

 

Throughout the journey, Sang Jue was unusually quiet.

 

He didn’t ask Ji Zhen where she was taking him, didn’t ask what Huo Yanji had told them. He was just quietly silent, not eating, occasionally looking back toward the distance.

 

But with his keen sense of smell, if someone he hoped for approached, he could detect it without turning around.

 

“Planning to starve yourself to death?” Evelyn asked gently.

 

“Won’t starve to death.” Sang Jue said.

 

Evelyn made an “oh” sound, curiously asking: “So what is your true form?”

 

Sang Jue looked down: “Don’t know.”

 

Evelyn made an “mm” sound: “So the dragon is just one of your forms?”

 

By the campfire, Sang Jue gave a muffled hum.

 

“Transform back into dragon form and show me?”

 

“No.”

 

“I see, you only show him.” Evelyn said languidly, “There are so many handsome men in the world, why be obsessed with just him?”

 

Sang Jue countered: “There are so many beautiful women in the world, why are you obsessed with Ji Zhen?”

 

“…” Evelyn’s expression froze. She looked back toward the distant direction. Ji Zhen was covering their tracks to avoid being followed by the army.

 

If Sang Jue were alone, he wouldn’t think to handle such things.

 

“My obsession scattered long ago.” Evelyn withdrew her gaze and smiled softly, “It was just youthful fixation… Does the ending really matter?”

 

Doesn’t it matter?

 

Sang Jue lay in his sleeping bag, gazing at the stars above.

 

Ji Zhen scattered a circle of repelling powder around them, then lay down in her sleeping bag to rest.

 

She and Evelyn maintained clear boundaries—no lover’s ambiguity, no intimate closeness between friends, but rather an indescribable understanding, never mentioning past feelings.

 

Sang Jue could sense that Ji Zhen didn’t have that spring-like fondness for Evelyn.

 

It was like…

 

Like the responsible kind of liking Huo Yanji had for his humans.

 

No, there was no liking, only responsibility.

 

Having used up Evelyn’s youthful love, she now spent her remaining time bearing responsibility.

 

Sang Jue lay with his eyes open, looking at the sky.

 

His lower back ached a bit—he couldn’t sleep.

 

He still remembered what he had said: things don’t go past three times, he could be bullied at most three times.

 

How many times had it been now?

 

That time with the tail stuffing… didn’t count.

 

Always saying things he didn’t like to hear… if that counted, it had already been more than three times.

 

Even excluding all those incidents in between, just counting the ones he’d counted before, plus this time of stabbing him with a needle—it was already three times.

 

He should fulfill his promise, go find another prince, and not want Yanji anymore.

 

But… princes existed based on missions, his mission was fake, his home planet was fake, the Doctor didn’t want him, and Huo Yanji didn’t want him either.

 

He thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep, but he did.

 

Sang Jue slowly closed his eyes, his consciousness sinking deeper and deeper, as if sinking into the eighteen layers of hell.

 

For the past eighteen years, under the Doctor’s care, he had lived too carefree a life, never having dreams. But now, a hundred years later, nightmares came continuously.

 

He walked through pitch darkness, with an abyss of no light above his head.

 

Sang Jue couldn’t even tell what form he was in now, only feeling something deep within calling to him with an indescribable voice.

 

He had felt it from the first day he landed on the aircraft.

 

Ancient and profound strange rhythms, like a call, yet like longing.

 

Sang Jue had always avoided it, even when entering two thousand meters underground, he pretended this rhythm didn’t exist, treating it as just one ordinary voice among countless monster sounds.

 

He walked aimlessly, surrounded by darkness on all sides, unable to see the path.

 

Until a ghostly fire appeared out of nowhere, suspended in the air as if held by an invisible person at heart level.

 

He heard a burst of terrified, chaotic voices: “What is that?!?”

 

Sang Jue walked toward the source of the chaos without emotion, slowly raising his head to look—

 

A gigantic monster sat in the deep darkness, its entire body a ghostly purple, with complex and numerous tentacles interweaving into the cracked stone walls, growing upward as if thirsting for light.

 

Or perhaps wanting to drag light into the dark camp as well.

 

At the base of each of its countless tentacles grew rows of narrow, golden eyes, each eye seeming to have independent consciousness, looking in different directions, blinking in exchange, densely packed and terrifying.

 

Even more disturbing, the main body of the giant monster appeared to be constantly melting black-purple tumors, with crack-like enormous fangs carved into the center of the main body. The surrounding tentacles swayed and danced, scarlet pupils looking down with contempt at the weak creatures who had come following the tentacle roots—

 

Humans.

 

The humans, already on the verge of collapse, stared at the scene before them, completely terrified and motionless.

 

Even though the monster had done nothing, they naturally felt a deadly fear, as if only by kneeling, only by submitting, could they retain their meager reason and humanity.

 

They finally knew where those tentacles from the surface cracks had grown from—

 

They were all part of this giant monster, the most insignificant tentacle of its body. The crack was its body, and it was the deity of the underground.

 

Their hearts were screaming, yet their mouths were like closed shells, unable to open no matter what, unable to make any sound.

 

They all shared the same fear: they must not disturb It.

 

Perhaps disturbing It wouldn’t matter anyway—to It, they were merely insignificant dust and ants, not worth mentioning.

 

No one could deal with such a monster; even the only deviant, General Huo Jiangmian, was not among the team.

 

Just as fear silently contaminated everyone, the giant monster suddenly moved.

 

The surroundings shook violently, the entire crack began to collapse, huge stones crashed down without making any sound. People couldn’t control their balance—some fell to the ground, others tumbled into the abyss—

 

They saw that the colossal being that had looked down on them suddenly lowered Its proud head toward an empty direction where no one stood.

 

***

---