EDEH Chapter 9

[007’s Diary Entry Six]

 

[Humans have indeed spoken many truths: ‘Only by leaving the greenhouse and experiencing hardships can one grow.’

 

Over the past eighteen years, the little evil dragon had only learned two emotions—happiness and anger. Today, however, he learned longing—even though for him, who had been dormant for many years, today was only the third day since leaving Dr. Anya.

 

I, like the doctor, thought the little evil dragon knew nothing, but it seems this is not the case.

 

Perhaps deep down, he had sensed it all along.

 

Dr. Anya’s hopes are bound to be disappointed. No one can remain innocent forever; everyone must grow up.]

 

·

 

Sang Jue asked: “Is there a curfew every day?”

 

007 said: “Yes, it facilitates daily management and thorough inspections to prevent humanoid creatures and people with ulterior motives from infiltrating.”

 

Sang Jue: “People with ulterior motives?”

 

007: “In any era, human hearts are difficult to unite.”

 

Sang Jue couldn’t quite understand—in such a resource-scarce and dangerous time, what other intentions could there be?

 

Perhaps because he wasn’t quite human yet, he couldn’t empathize.

 

—Just like how he couldn’t empathize with why so many people would bow to a statue not far away, even placing handmade paper flowers of various colors, exquisite and eye-catching.

 

Sadly, flowers were no longer tokens of affection between lovers. If people wanted to appreciate them now, they could only observe from afar those lethally beautiful blooms outside the city.

 

Unpolluted, clean soil was one of the most precious resources, making flower cultivation a waste.

 

The statue’s face looked somewhat familiar. Sang Jue looked up: “I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere…”

 

The statue was about six or seven meters tall, wearing a military uniform, with a slight smile. The gray-white sculpture gave him a sacred quality, appearing powerful and inviolable.

 

A travel-worn Deviant hurried over, placed a maple leaf before the statue, bowed respectfully, then hurried away again.

 

“The statue is of Huo Feng,” 007 paused. “The first Deviant in human history, and also the strongest Deviant. He once single-handedly held back a swarm of worms capable of destroying an entire safe zone.”

 

Sang Jue couldn’t imagine such a scene. He knew worms—those thin, long, boneless creatures that lived in vegetable gardens.

 

But the worms 007 spoke of were abe.rrant versions magnified millions of times, averaging five to six meters in length, thick-skinned and tough, soft as if boneless, with circular mouthparts that could easily bite a person in half.

 

One person against a swarm…

 

Sang Jue asked in confusion: “Could he clone himself?”

 

“His Deviant genes were sampled from Crack #2, allowing him to differentiate tentacles. Other genes couldn’t contaminate his main body through the tentacles, and he possessed extremely strong self-healing and regenerative abilities.”

 

007 began recounting that history—

 

“Although the initial collapse killed many people, technological levels aren’t determined by human numbers, so they maintained peak conditions for a long time. Supported by science and weapons, countless safe bases sprang up everywhere.”

 

Humans even spared no expense creating a Sky City—a suspended inverted triangular city, thinking this would allow them to escape contamination.

 

007 said: “But then the meteor season arrived.”

 

More apocalyptic than the initial rift contamination, countless small meteors crashed to the ground, destroying all buildings, including the Sky City that represented hope.

 

Humans had to flee underground in panic, hiding from the prolonged meteor season.

 

After many years of sunless existence, they finally returned to the surface.

 

The surface conditions were terrible—at least for humans.

 

Oceans now comprised 76% of the total area, with land occupying only 24%.

 

Clean, unpolluted soil resources occupied only 0.1% of the total land area.

 

Humans had completely lost their dominant position in the food chain, making the continuation of civilization extremely difficult.

 

And that’s when Huo Feng stepped forward.

 

Most humans were unwilling to risk abandoning their pure human identity to become Deviants, but Huo Feng set a good example.

 

He perfectly fused with contaminated gene samples from Crack #2, becoming invincible and undefeated in battle.

 

The main city’s territory was conquered under Huo Feng’s leadership; countless monsters had once occupied this area.

 

Perhaps if you asked any person on the street who had witnessed that history, they would still say that Huo Feng was like a god, invincible, leading other survivors into the light with a single step.

 

Just a little bit short, just a little—

 

On the eve of a large-scale monster assault, Huo Feng disappeared.

 

That battle resulted in heavy human casualties, with corpses strewn everywhere. The most important research highland humans had established in the northwest completely fell, and all 367 important researchers within were devoured by contaminants, with none surviving.

 

Some came to hate Huo Feng for this, considering him a deserter, while others believed he had simply died while carrying out some secret mission, still holding him as their faith.

 

He had been missing for sixty years, with no news to this day, and the military had found no clues.

 

“Sixty years? He should be dead then, right?” Sang Jue said quietly.

 

“For ordinary people, a hundred-year lifespan is indeed the limit,” 007 said. “But a major reason why so many people are willing to risk evolution is the extension of lifespan.”

 

“How much longer?”

 

“According to research, if they don’t lose their sanity within thirty years and don’t die in battle, Deviants can live to an average of 180 years.”

 

Even with the possibility of such extended lifespans, more than half of ordinary humans were still unwilling to take the risk. This was a high-stakes gamble.

 

First, the golden age for genetic fusion was between 18 and 30 years old, and at the time of choosing fusion, there was a 1% chance of evolution failure.

 

Secondly, within thirty years, Deviants have a 60% chance of losing control and turning into a monster.

 

Finally, because they themselves are contaminated, they are unable to take on most jobs within the city—hospitals, communities, food resources, and so on.

 

Deviants can only become soldiers, or form mercenary teams to risk their lives outside the city, where the mortality rate is terrifyingly high.

 

So, taking all these factors into account, the actual average lifespan of Deviants is still not higher than that of ordinary people.

 

007 said: “For those who began gene contamination from a young age, the period from twenty to one hundred years old is all considered youth and prime. Huo Feng, from birth to now, is exactly 102 years old—just stepping into early old age, which is why so many people believe he’s still alive.”

 

Whether they truly believe it, or whether Huo Feng is actually still alive, no longer matters.

 

He is no longer just an individual, but has become a kind of phantom in everyone’s hearts.

 

Especially for Deviants, he is both a direction and a spiritual pillar.

 

The military continues to promote him in a positive light, in children’s textbooks and in the words of elders. New generations grow up admiring Huo Feng, wanting to become someone like him.

 

007 said: “You could say, with so many Deviants today, Huo Feng’s image-building deserves much of the credit.”

 

Huo Feng’s statue was split into half light and half shadow by the golden sunset. From a distance, Sang Jue gazed at him, unable to understand where the strange sense of familiarity came from.

 

As the sun set, the gray high-rises swallowed the last bit of light.

 

Suddenly, Sang Jue realized: “Si Fu’s god was Huo Feng.”

 

The god had not shown him mercy, nor anyone else—cruelly abandoning his followers and vanishing from the world, perhaps never to return.

 

…

 

At night, the main city became even livelier. Even with only three hours left until curfew, many people still lingered in the bars.

 

Sang Jue stared at the street signs, searching for the street management office.

 

A very burly man appeared in his view, his white tank top barely containing his bulging muscles, as if they might burst out.

 

He snatched a bottle of alcohol from the bar’s entrance: “Old Karl, put it on my tab!”

 

Hearing the familiar name, Sang Jue instinctively turned his head and saw a familiar face.

 

Old Karl poked his head out of the bar and shouted, “Damn you, Owen! If you die out there, remember to settle your bill first!”

 

Owen laughed loudly: “Hahaha, if I kick the bucket out there, just consider yourself unlucky!”

 

Old Karl: “Screw you! Where are you going this late!?”

 

Owen didn’t look back, waving his bottle: “Out of the city—”

 

Old Karl shouted: “Are you crazy!?”

 

Owen didn’t turn around, his figure disappearing into the thick night.

 

Old Karl shook his head helplessly and was about to go back inside when he noticed Sang Jue watching him.

 

He paused: “Oh, it’s you.”

 

Sang Jue didn’t dislike Old Karl: “Are you doing okay?”

 

Old Karl: “Not bad. Come in for a drink?”

 

Sang Jue was curious: “I’ve never had alcohol before.”

 

Old Karl laughed heartily: “Come on in, I’ll buy you a drink.”

 

Sang Jue followed him inside. This bar was probably Old Karl’s own place—everyone inside knew him, and the atmosphere was lively.

 

Someone hooked an arm around Old Karl’s shoulder: “Aren’t you going to introduce this one?”

 

Old Karl brushed his hand away: “Don’t get any ideas, he’s just a kid!”

 

Sang Jue sat at the bar, and Old Karl mixed him a red-colored drink: “Try it. It’s called ‘Dawn’.”

 

The top layer of ‘Dawn’ was a faint white, tinged with the green of early morning; the middle was the vivid red of sunset; the bottom looked black, but was actually made from red fruit pulp.

 

Sang Jue didn’t sense any ill intent from Old Karl. He took a sip—it was a bit sweet.

 

“Aren’t you angry at me?”

 

“You mean about A-Ruan?” Old Karl smiled and shook his head. “It’s not your fault. Even if you hadn’t said anything, Huo Yanji would have noticed she was infected. A-Ruan would have died anyway.”

 

“Are you angry at Huo Yanji?”

 

Old Karl: “It’s not about being angry or not. General Huo Yanji’s duty is to eliminate all security risks. A-Ruan tried to hide her infection to get into the city. In a sense, her actions were selfish.”

 

She was holding onto a sliver of hope, wanting to return to her warm home, to the old days.

 

Understandable, but selfish.

 

“I should be the one apologizing to you. I saw that A-Ruan was infected, but didn’t tell you when we got in the car.” Old Karl sighed. “I’ve known them for many years. Jason and A-Ruan are good people, loyal too—I even owe them my life. So at the time, I really didn’t know how to say to A-Ruan, ‘You shouldn’t be alive, you should die, you can’t bring danger back to the main city.’”

 

“I just couldn’t say it.”

 

Sang Jue took another sip, the rich fruit aroma lingering on his tongue.

 

Old Karl wiped the bar with a rag: “I figured, they’d have to pass a contamination test to get into the city anyway. There’s no way they’d make it in alive. So, let them live a little longer.”

 

“Why is everyone so afraid of dying?”

 

“Who isn’t? Aren’t you?”

 

Sang Jue thought for a moment and answered honestly: “I don’t know.”

 

He didn’t know what death felt like, or what it really meant.

 

“Jason and A-Ruan are the only married couple I know. They’ve been together eleven years. As for everyone else, they change bed partners more often than clothes.”

 

Old Karl sighed: “But you can’t really blame them. That’s just how things are now—no one knows if they’ll survive tomorrow, so living for the moment is what matters most.”

 

For example, at that moment, quite a few people in the bar had noticed the strikingly good-looking Sang Jue and were getting restless. A guy with braids started, “Want a smoke?”

 

“Scram, scram, scram,” Old Karl shooed him away like a chicken. “Don’t mess around, he just came of age.”

 

Half a glass of alcohol in, Sang Jue’s head was spinning, but he still didn’t understand: “It’s not even spring, so why are they going into heat over a male like me?”

 

Old Karl was amused by his choice of words: “You said it yourself—they’re males in heat, sometimes no different from animals, driven only by their lower bodies.”

“I’m not… only driven by my lower body…”

Sang Jue spoke intermittently, his head getting dizzier and dizzier, completely forgetting about needing to rent a house.

He had to support his cheeks with both hands to keep his head from hitting the bar: “I don’t like them.”

Old Karl teased him: “So do you like Huo Yanji?”

Sang Jue fell silent, staring at his glass with clear, unblinking eyes. After a long while, he said: “He smells good.”

“Smells good?” Old Karl chuckled. “Does a general like him actually wear perfume?”

Sang Jue: “Not perfume fragrance—body fragrance.”

Old Karl didn’t believe it: “A grown man would be doing well just not to smell like sweat, and you say he’s fragrant?”

Drunk Sang Jue was stubborn: “He really does smell good… want to eat him up, nom nom, eat him all up.”

Old Karl automatically interpreted this differently and gave a thumbs up: “Admirable courage.”

Sang Jue drank the last bit of alcohol and his head completely sank onto the table.

The table surface was cool and comfortable… Huo Yanji was also cool.

“Woo—”

“Woo—”

So noisy.

Sang Jue turned to press the other side of his face against the table, but the clamorous sound continued.

He groggily opened his eyes and found it was already past eight o’clock. The drinking mercenaries had mostly dispersed, and Old Karl was cleaning up.

“Woo—”

Sang Jue followed the sound outside, his body swaying unsteadily.

The source of the urgent, sharp sound was the street’s alarm system. Danger-indicating red lights flashed frantically, and cold broadcasts echoed throughout the city: “Level 2 alert activated. Citywide martial law in effect. All residents must return home immediately, close doors and windows, and do not go outside.”

“—All residents must return home immediately, close doors and windows, and do not go outside.”

A cluster of bright red fireworks exploded in the sky, instantly illuminating the night.

“Signal flares, notifying surrounding personnel to return to the city as quickly as possible…” Old Karl looked in the direction Owen had left earlier and sighed. “Hope he hasn’t gone far, or I’ll have no one to collect my bar tab from.”

Sang Jue hiccupped: “He just… just left… shouldn’t have gone far.”

“I’m afraid he doesn’t want to come back.” Old Karl efficiently cleared the tables. “You should go home too, kid. Close your doors and windows, don’t go outside.”

“I… don’t have a home.” Sang Jue pointed up at the sky. “My home is on that star!”

Old Karl was puzzled: “Still not sober? How can fruit wine under five degrees keep you drunk this long?”

Sang Jue crouched down, talking to himself: “My home is very far away. It’ll take many years to go back.”

Old Karl was helpless: “Call your family and have them come pick you up.”

Sang Jue suddenly went quiet, only his lips could be seen muttering something.

Old Karl had to get closer to hear clearly: “My guardian doesn’t want me anymore… she wants me to go to a very, very far place… to save the world. I don’t know, don’t know if I can ever go back…”

“She doesn’t want me anymore.” Sang Jue kept mumbling this phrase.

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