EDEH Chapter 150

Without disaster, would humanity welcome a flourishing dawn?

 

“Calculations tell me not necessarily. Humans will create their own disasters.”

 

—007.

 

·

 

Three years had passed since that final battle.

 

After centuries, the contamination era of collapsed order had officially ended, and humanity faced its most difficult transition period.

 

As the old general had said before his death: disaster had ended, but death continued.

 

Though he alone shouldered the blame, hadn’t other high officials and researchers considered that once contamination ended, deviants would face death?

 

They had simply viewed this as an acceptable sacrifice and subconsciously ignored the point.

 

According to calculations, from the moment contamination ended three years ago until now, 1.72 million deviants had died “natural deaths.”

 

Unlike all things in nature, from the beginning, mutation was an invitation to contamination—only humans were left behind, ultimately forced to ‘evolve.’

 

Now natural creatures had shed their contamination but still survived, merely losing their violent aggression. Deviants, however, had lost their lives.

 

Their forced survival meant that when contamination finally ended, they too were abandoned by the new world.

 

Contaminating genes quietly withdrew from their bodies, absorbed by the special existence beneath Eye of Paradise. The human genes that had been forcibly reorganized and twisted couldn’t reconcile with themselves—only destruction awaited them.

 

From this perspective, humanity’s millennia of pride wasn’t entirely without reason. Among all life, humans were indeed special enough.

 

Contradictory, fearful, conflicted chaos played out daily in safe zones. Deviants who had been wrapped in lies from the beginning were ultimately to be sacrificed as expected—how could they not feel unwilling?

 

This time the turmoil involved not just residents and mercenaries, but also the military.

 

Most soldiers were deviants. Having experienced that battle three years ago, countless had already died, and survivors bore not only physical scars but hearts full of wounds.

 

After experiencing decades of death, constantly facing separation and loss, what had kept them going was protecting their homeland and the people behind them. Now that disaster had dissipated, the taut strings suddenly snapped.

 

Almost every day, soldiers committed suicide.

 

The high platform of ideals and beliefs had completely collapsed. With nowhere to place their hearts and no way to fill the emptiness within, death was the only option.

 

Only by dying could they let their souls dissipate along with that war-torn era of the past, becoming history.

 

Compared to the gloomy depression of soldiers, civilian deviants took a more intense approach.

 

Unlike soldiers, their ideological constraints weren’t complete—they still had experiences of fighting for rights and clearing their names. But when they discovered that nothing they did could change the outcome, riots came.

 

Abandoning safe zones to build communities in the now-harmless city ruins outside, slaughtering innocent ordinary people—even if they had to die, they’d drag a few lives down with them…

 

They once became the new “rebels.”

 

Ordinary civilians lived in constant fear. Soldiers who had become uncertain factors were no longer suitable for their original positions, but immediately stripping off their uniforms the moment disaster ended would be too cruel.

 

For a time, humanity truly faced the worst outcome—scattered sand, falling apart.

 

Safe zones were more desolate than during the contamination period.

 

Ruins and debris were everywhere, evening winds blew desolately, and scattered crowds appeared even more barren.

 

Ordinary survivors lost their sense of urgency and, with it, their purpose.

 

In the past, when living, someone would always tell you it was for humanity’s continuation, for species survival. Now that the crisis was eliminated, people didn’t know how to cope, feeling a melancholy unease of loss.

 

If those mercenaries and soldiers were still alive, their sense of disconnection would be even stronger.

 

Unfortunately, they were dying one by one.

 

Only the main city was different.

 

Though the main city couldn’t avoid the gradual deaths of deviants, it hadn’t lost too many people, and reconstruction work proceeded in an orderly fashion.

 

All thanks to Huo Yanji.

 

Over these three years, those who loved Huo Yanji loved him to the extreme, and those who hated him also hated him to the extreme.

 

If those who had cursed Huo Yanji for being iron-hearted and ruthless during the contamination period years ago could see him now, they’d know what truly iron-hearted and ruthless meant.

 

The human touch seemed completely stripped from Huo Yanji. Since he had commanded the most ordinary human soldiers before, after the disaster ended, most power was concentrated in his hands, as were resources.

 

In major strategies, he was almost dictatorial, never listening to others’ opinions. Every high-level meeting ended in oppression.

 

Huo Yanji had even converted the former Regulatory Bureau into an euthanasia facility—

 

Any deviants feeling pain could apply for euthanasia. With just one injection, suffering would dissipate, and they’d even get an honorary tombstone.

 

Some cursed this bitterly, feeling this move was no different from burning bridges after crossing—were they eager to urge deviants to die after exhausting their value?

 

It was too heartless.

 

As for what Huo Yanji was thinking, probably only he knew.

 

·

 

The meeting room was packed. Besides those along the long table’s sides, many note-takers stood behind.

 

“If we don’t manage the other safe zones, they’ll completely fall apart!”

 

“Yes… several major districts like Seven and Eleven are barely existing in name only. At this rate, only the main city will be left.”

 

“District Five’s situation is also difficult. That area had few developable resources to begin with, and without contaminated genes, there are no underground minerals either…”

 

“They’re probably cursing us to death in their hearts—’those bastards who won’t save the dying!’ When we were constantly at war with monsters, everyone was good brothers, helping with everything. Now look…”

 

Around the long table, everyone discussed heatedly. Most speakers were directly or indirectly criticizing Huo Yanji’s arbitrary rule and disregard for other safe zones.

 

Huo Yanji looked up, his voice without ripples: “Who will manage them? Where are the resources and manpower to manage them?”

 

Everyone fell silent.

 

Actually, they knew in their hearts that humanity’s biggest problem now was sparse human resources.

 

Huo Yanji looked at the podium. The faces of those who had fought alongside him in the past had all disappeared, leaving only a group of ‘politicians’ seeking power and trying to secure positions in the new era, plus a batch of newcomers who had replaced dead deviant high officials.

 

Over a hundred people total, but those expressing opinions were always those seated along the long table’s sides.

 

No matter how powerful Huo Yanji was, he couldn’t continue ensuring that personnel use remained as pure as in the past.

 

People at this long table formed various groups, with factional favoritism everywhere.

 

Did they really care about other safe zones’ development?

 

Were they really just upset that Huo Yanji was leaving people to die?

 

Not necessarily—each had their own calculations.

 

Huo Yanji held power too tightly. The more stable his position, the worse off those with ulterior motives below would be.

 

“Even if we don’t manage them, we can’t undermine them like this!”

 

This meeting’s cause was Huo Yanji’s draft of a personnel introduction policy, basically asking survivors from other safe zones to come develop in the main city, putting aside their homelands for now.

 

As for why this wasn’t drafted three years ago—back then there were still many deviants, with daily deaths or deviant-caused unrest. Rashly concentrating people in the main city would have been difficult to control.

 

Now that deviants in all districts were almost completely dead, concentrating together offered hope for focused reconstruction.

 

Such handling was inevitably cruel, but it was the best option among no good options.

 

“What we can do now is the same as 94 years ago—first concentrate manpower and resources to focus on developing the main city, then begin expansion construction after prosperity.”

 

“The personnel introduction policy has already begun. Those willing to come to the main city will be accommodated. Those unwilling can continue staying in their original ruins until the main city has spare capacity to manage them.”

 

“…”

 

Though Huo Yanji’s expression was indifferent, unlike his usual independent domineering style, today he unexpectedly explained at length. Besides this, he also detailed upcoming plans and assigned various duties to individuals.

 

“If anyone has opinions, you can raise them now.”

 

With this approach, those with ulterior motives suddenly didn’t know what to say. They couldn’t figure out what Huo Yanji was thinking—perhaps he wanted to purge another batch of high officials… With this concern, they felt somewhat restless.

 

Huo Yanji seemed oblivious to the strange expressions on their faces and suddenly changed direction: “But we can’t completely ignore the other safe zones either. District Seven’s agriculture and research, as well as several major districts in coal mining areas, still need development. But they lack not only manpower but also high-level administrators.”

 

“—What are your thoughts?”

 

The meeting room fell quiet for a moment, then everyone began whispering to each other, calculating with different intentions.

 

Staying in the main city offered great development prospects because there were people and resources. Though it was difficult to stand out under Huo Yanji’s pressure, it was also difficult to make mistakes.

 

But if they went to other currently impoverished safe zones, the outcome would truly depend on fate.

 

However, new, young people didn’t think this way—there were always those fearless newborn calves.

 

“I’m willing to go to District Seven—” From the crowd of note-takers standing behind the long table, a young woman under thirty raised her hand.

 

She hesitated, then, fearing people would think her too opportunistic, added: “Other districts are fine too. I’m willing to put in extra effort.”

 

Her name was Lu Li. She came from the Underground City and was currently the deputy administrator of the agricultural district. Going to District Seven would be a professional match.

 

After the contamination period ended, most surprisingly, Underground City residents were the fastest to adapt, quickly assigned to surface work in various industries with considerable results.

 

Especially as other safe zones declined, of the Underground City’s millions of residents, only a small portion remained in the local district, while almost all others were distributed to the main city. This instantly balanced the male-female ratio in the main city, making it more stable to some degree.

 

Regardless of the era, hormonal impulses and family formation could make people more active and order more stable.

 

“I’m also willing to transfer!”

 

Besides Lu Li, other fresh blood gradually stood up, expressing willingness to go manage and develop those struggling but resource-rich safe zones requiring development.

 

“Let’s settle it this way for now. Those willing to be assigned can register after this ends and wait for notification.” Huo Yanji looked up coldly, saying without warmth: “If the numbers are still insufficient after tallying, we’ll directly assign by name.”

 

After the meeting ended and everyone dispersed, Huo Yanji sat alone in the room for a long time.

 

Only his hand kept playing with a black pen, looking vacantly at the opposite seat as if someone still sat there.

 

Only when knocking sounded did he stand and walk out, meeting the gaze of Zhang Min who had come.

 

The explosion over three years ago had left Zhang Min severely injured and unconscious for a long time, and he’d lost his right lower limb, now having to live with a mechanical prosthetic.

 

But he bore no resentment, quickly throwing himself into work after recovery.

 

“Sir, Major General Colin has awakened.”

 

“…Mm.”

 

In the past, Colin hadn’t felt any sadness about becoming a deviant, largely because he could live and die with Wei Lan.

 

Wei Lan would lose order within thirty years, and so would he—neither would need to painfully live through the second half of life.

 

However, things didn’t develop as he’d expected. After the contamination period ended, Wei Lan died “naturally” a year ago, while he still struggled on.

 

After Huo Yanji opened the euthanasia policy, Colin was the first to apply, but was refused and taken to the research institute as the first experimental sample.

 

Logically, naturally contaminated organisms that had fused with contaminated genes hadn’t died from contamination’s recession—they’d only lost their contamination. So humans who’d naturally been infected by wild creature genes to become deviants shouldn’t die either.

 

Through a series of observations and research, the above viewpoint was completely confirmed.

 

Colin had stayed at the research institute for nearly two years, with contamination index tests every ten days, each showing decline.

 

From an initial peak of 50, later reduced to 45, 40… until a month ago, the contamination index directly zeroed out. Not only was Colin alive, but his body even retained multi-headed bubble green fungi genes.

 

Only after the contamination index zeroed did Colin fall into a coma, until just now when the research institute sent good news—Colin had awakened, and examinations showed he was very healthy.

 

Whether this was fortunate or tragic was unclear.

 

He’d survived, but was forever separated from his beloved.

 

Huo Yanji said: “First go to Eden.”

 

Zhang Min said: “Yes.”

 

Eden had been completed six months ago and begun nurturing newborns.

 

Huo Yanji got in the car, looking through the window at this city he’d built with his own hands. Compared to other struggling safe zones, under Huo Yanji’s concentrated resource management, the main city had grown larger than before the final battle.

 

Manpower wasn’t lacking either. Streets were everywhere filled with bustling crowds—at least on the surface it showed a thriving appearance.

 

Occasionally passing the packed marriage registration office, Zhang Min unconsciously glanced at the rearview mirror.

 

Huo Yanji’s facial features remained sharp. Over the years his appearance had barely changed, showing no signs of approaching forty, still young.

 

Only… he’d been alone from beginning to end.

 

For some, relationships during disaster were like flowers in a mirror or moon in water, but for others they were unforgettable.

 

Zhang Min signaled the driver to speed up past the marriage registration office, fearing it might trigger memories.

 

But Huo Yanji suddenly spoke: “You’ve been deputy for three years now. Sorry for the inconvenience.”

 

Zhang Min was stunned, turning back: “It’s no inconvenience, sir.”

 

Huo Yanji asked: “Any thoughts of retiring?”

 

“…What?”

 

“Perhaps changing careers would better utilize your strengths.” Huo Yanji withdrew his gaze from outside, meeting Zhang Min’s confused look in the front seat. “Fu Xi’s health has been declining these years, gradually becoming inadequate. The former deputy administrator was killed by deviants during unrest six months ago. This position has remained vacant since.”

 

Zhang Min’s heart skipped a beat—for the first time, he didn’t immediately respond to his superior’s words.

 

Huo Yanji wasn’t even hinting anymore; it was a direct statement.

 

It wasn’t that Zhang Min was unwilling. His admiration for Huo Yanji had long since faded, leaving only a subordinate’s respect and reverence for a superior. He didn’t need to stay by Huo Yanji’s side.

 

But he hadn’t moved for three years because Huo Yanji had too much on his plate—he simply couldn’t manage it all. Even with assistance from several deputies, Huo Yanji could only sleep four to five hours daily, a pattern that had continued for three years.

 

And he was the deputy who understood Huo Yanji best and worked most seamlessly with him. Logically, no matter how understaffed other positions were, Huo Yanji wouldn’t transfer him of all people.

 

Zhang Min suddenly recalled an unrelated incident.

 

Six months ago, after the main city had completely stabilized, the Minister of Military and Political Affairs proposed granting Huo Yanji the rank of grand general. At the time, a group of high officials sent protest letters, fearing that if Huo Yanji rose another level, he’d truly hold absolute power—this wouldn’t be a promotion to grand general but practically a coronation.

 

But unexpectedly, Huo Yanji himself had refused.

 

Many immediately breathed sighs of relief, but as someone close to him, Zhang Min knew clearly that Huo Yanji wasn’t someone who would refuse power.

 

From Huo Yanji’s various words and actions over the past three years—completely disregarding external opinions—he didn’t mind expanding his authority. On the contrary, he would fight for it to better control and develop the main city.

 

But why had he refused the promotion to grand general six months ago? Was he simply worried about others’ opinions?

 

Concealing his concerns, Zhang Min complied: “I’ll follow your arrangements.”

 

Huo Yanji hummed: “The transfer order has been drafted. Go to the Ministry of Military and Political Affairs tomorrow to sign.”

 

“…Yes.”

 

So fast… Zhang Min’s heart pounded even harder.

 

The driver hit the brakes, stopping in front of a magnificent honeycomb-shaped building. A stone tablet at the entrance was engraved with the words “Eden.”

 

Eden covered a large area. Besides the surface high-rise, it had several underground levels, with outer walls made of the most durable materials.

 

The nursery rooms maintained sterile environments, with chamber doors and outer walls built to the highest anti-radiation standards.

 

Without contaminants, surface radiation was the greatest killer of newborns.

 

Huo Yanji stood in the monitoring room, where silver-white mechanical screens could observe every embryo’s growth process from all angles. Artificial wombs perfectly simulated maternal structure, allowing them to grow safely.

 

“General, would you like to go down and take a look?”

 

The speaker in charge was also an old acquaintance—Sylvie, old Hermann’s adopted daughter.

 

After old Hermann’s death, as the instigator who had publicly revealed the “Dawn Plan,” she’d faced pressure from all sides. If Huo Yanji hadn’t protected her, she would probably have been torn apart by various factions long ago.

 

Fortunately, she hadn’t fallen into despair after Hermann’s death, completely changing her previously casual attitude and fighting desperately to advance.

 

Huo Yanji watched for a long moment: “No need.”

 

Sylvie followed his gaze, somewhat puzzled… that monitoring screen showed no womb or embryo, just an empty corridor.

 

But before she could investigate further, Huo Yanji withdrew his gaze.

 

“Tell me about the upcoming plans.”

 

Sylvie was startled, making an “uh” sound, momentarily confused: “In six months, the first batch of infants will be born. According to the ‘Eden Contract’ you previously drafted, this batch will remain in Eden for a year and a half, then be adopted by stable married families—”

 

As she spoke, her words became smoother. Actually, the subsequent plans had been finalized long ago—everything conceivable was mentioned in the “Eden Contract.”

 

Sylvie had no particular thoughts; most supervisors simply executed Huo Yanji’s standards strictly.

 

She didn’t quite understand why Huo Yanji was suddenly asking about this. Did he hope she had some new ideas?

 

Compared to three or four years ago, Huo Yanji’s thoughts were even more inscrutable.

 

But strangely, Huo Yanji offered no opinions on what she’d said, just nodded casually as if listening for entertainment.

 

Sylvie tentatively asked: “Do you have any thoughts?”

 

Huo Yanji said: “No.”

 

Sylvie was stumped: “…”

 

Huo Yanji reviewed Eden’s management and planning charts, then entered the elevator.

 

With city security gradually stabilizing over the past six months, Huo Yanji only traveled with two soldiers and one deputy, Zhang.

 

So when a teenage boy suddenly rushed out at the elevator entrance, the soldiers’ gun-drawing motions hesitated for half a second.

 

Faced with three gun barrels, the boy was somewhat frightened. The moment Sylvie recognized his face, she hurriedly said: “It’s a misunderstanding! This is Ed, our staff member. He—”

 

Huo Yanji raised his hand, signaling the soldiers behind him to lower their weapons, and walked away without even glancing at Ed.

 

However, the recovered Ed immediately took a few quick steps, holding up a letter and mustering courage to shout: “General, may I court you?!”

 

“…” Zhang Min’s expression was quite subtle, and Sylvie felt dizzy. Both knew Huo Yanji’s romantic history and what had happened three years ago—Ed was stepping directly on a landmine.

 

More subtly, Ed’s age and features bore one or two similarities to that person from three years ago. Whether this was coincidence was unclear.

 

The person in question glanced over: “No.”

 

Ed wanted to say more, but heard Huo Yanji’s indifferent voice: “I’m married.”

 

…

 

·

 

Warm, comfortable… a contentment where every cell in his body flew freely, even more comfortable than being beside the Doctor.

 

Sang Jue thought with some guilt.

 

He’d originally thought falling into the abyss, being enveloped by darkness, would be painful—that he’d lose freedom, be constrained…

 

But having truly returned, he dimly realized that what was truly constrained was the world and all things, was flesh—while he had been free from the beginning.

 

He saw aurora composed of tens of thousands of colors, beautiful beyond human visual capture, more magnificent and dazzling than gems.

 

—These were what humans called “contamination,” merely a form of energy humans couldn’t control.

 

Sang Jue heard the “crying” of all things. To be more precise, he felt the magnetic field of all things’ painful lamentations.

 

He finally understood why all creatures wanted to contaminate him.

 

Because it wasn’t just humans who suffered—all living beings were in torment. Only humans had mouths and cried the loudest.

 

These creatures were more perceptive than humans, knowing that devouring him would bring liberation, just like old Karl who had drunk his blood—though he died, he found release.

 

All things would not only find release but also wouldn’t die.

 

He ‘flew’ over forests, seeing thriving green. Thorns and vines no longer tried to strangle trees. Lost deer fused with vines bounded through forests, with colorful flowers no longer dark wrapped around their antlers.

 

Blue jellyfish drifted in groups on the sea surface, their ribbon-like tentacles intertwining with each other.

 

Beyond the sea lay glaciers untouched by humans for years, where new species humans had never seen basked in the sun.

 

The absence of contamination didn’t mean the absence of danger.

 

Today’s world looked completely opposite to what it had been hundreds of years ago. They still retained the multiple gene fusions from the contamination period, possessing huge, bizarre bodies and maintaining certain aggressiveness.

 

For instance, that human stung by a palm-sized bee would have died if his companion hadn’t detoxified him in time.

 

The man cursed “fucking hell.”

 

You can’t fuck eggs, you can only fuck… hmm.

 

Sang Jue thought.

 

Though he didn’t know why he was thinking this way.

 

This new world seemed quite nice—vibrant and full of life. The ‘crying’ gradually decreased as contamination was recovered, and the multicolored aurora on the horizon gradually disappeared until it could no longer be seen.

 

Sang Jue’s consciousness returned to darkness, like soaking in a hot spring where every pore exuded contentment.

 

Those decades on the surface were like a yellow millet dream, leaving only a faint mark in his heart. In his long existence, all worldly things were merely passersby.

 

But he seemed to have forgotten something… forgotten an agreement with a human.

 

He suddenly felt a bit sad.

 

***

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