EDEH Chapter 24

[007 Diary Entry 11]

 

[From the moment of my creation, I understood that as a string of data, I would never be able to comprehend the complexity of human thinking. But I thought I could always understand Sang Jue. However, since meeting Subject 002, his words and actions have also begun to lack logic.

 

Yesterday he was still torn between breaking off friendship and forgiveness, today he wants to pack someone up and take them away. I really can’t understand the connection.

 

I’m beginning to be unable to calculate what the little evil dragon’s reaction will be on the day he learns the truth.

 

At this moment, I made the same prayer as the doctor—let’s call it an AI’s wish: may the little evil dragon forever remain socially clueless, without joy or sorrow, living purely and peacefully in the lies woven by the doctor.

 

Subject 002’s words and actions remain contradictory, with still too little reference data.

 

Subject 004 possesses many excellent qualities of a leader, with much room for growth. She can be anticipated.]

 

·

 

Sang Jue was somewhat curious. He still remembered that Huo Jiangmin was Huo Yanji’s brother. What did “the fate back then” refer to?

 

But Huo Yanji didn’t elaborate, and Wei Lan also fell silent.

 

Humans were really so complex, always leaving their words unfinished.

 

Very annoying.

 

“Who I develop feelings for is beyond my control.” Wei Lan exhaled lightly, “But General, I understand what should be done and what shouldn’t be done.”

 

Huo Yanji said: “Go back and rest.”

 

“General—”

 

“That’s an order.”

 

“…Yes.”

 

Wei Lan’s state still looked calm and capable, but Sang Jue smelled thick fatigue.

 

Huo Yanji had only rested three hours in three days. Wei Lan, Saiya, and other commanders naturally weren’t much better off.

 

But when everyone else was relaxing and resting, Wei Lan had gone into the sewers to look for Colin.

 

Why expend so much energy on something hopeless? Perhaps Colin’s female was also devoted to him.

 

Sang Jue watched Wei Lan’s straight and silent retreating figure, thought for a moment and said: “I can go down to look for Colin.”

 

Huo Yanji said: “No need. There are people down there.”

 

The urban surface needed post-disaster cleanup, and naturally the sewers did too. The time Huo Yanji woke up was precisely when he calculated the fire magma would be extinguished. Search and rescue and sewer cleanup could proceed simultaneously.

 

But Wei Lan couldn’t wait. She had likely gone down when the morning report ended, when fire magma was still burning in some underground areas.

 

Thinking of the charred sidearm, Sang Jue apologized quietly: “I still lost your gun.”

 

“Force majeure, forgivable.” Huo Yanji’s frost-like tone melted somewhat. “I’m going to the laboratory. You can stay here and look around, or come with me.”

 

Sang Jue quickly grabbed Huo Yanji’s clothing.

 

Going to the laboratory required many procedures: disinfection, sterilization, putting isolation bags over shoes, and wearing white gloves.

 

The laboratory gloves only came in large, medium, and small sizes. The smallest size fit Sang Jue just right.

 

The little evil dragon didn’t like being constrained. In the past, just getting used to wearing clothes had taken a year.

 

He fiddled with the gloves while following behind Huo Yanji into the cold laboratory.

 

“Look around freely, but don’t touch anything.”

 

“Okay.”

 

Sang Jue continued messing with the gloves, always feeling they weren’t on properly—some places were loose, others stuck to his skin, very uncomfortable.

 

This was Laboratory No. 3. They were currently in the central control area.

 

Behind the glass window against the wall was a circular glass tube containing a mass of mutant multi-headed velvet bubble green fungus.

 

A refined man in a white coat pushed his glasses. His work badge read ‘Yunshan.’ He greeted: “General.”

 

Seeing Sang Jue behind Huo Yanji, he raised an eyebrow: “This is…”

 

Huo Yanji said flatly: “Picked up on the road.”

 

“…”

 

Sang Jue looked up puzzledly. Was he talking about him?

 

Whatever, continue adjusting the gloves.

 

Yunshan had also heard some rumors, but now wasn’t a good time for gossip.

 

He stepped aside. In front of them was an observation instrument. Although the report was already out, he still explained personally: “The green fungus you sent has a genetic sequence overlap approaching one hundred percent with the mother strain left at Waste Water back then.”

 

Sang Jue looked up again. He understood this—

 

Human complete genetic sequence overlap rates were usually above ninety-nine percent, which is why everyone looked human. The higher the overlap rate, the closer the relationship, just like human paternity testing.

 

“It really is slime reproduced from the mother strain at Waste Water back then.” Yunshan said. “Someone not only brought the original mother strain out of Waste Water but also released it in our District Seven sewers.”

 

Their intentions were murderous.

 

If Huo Yanji hadn’t chosen to infiltrate the city center underground for rescue, they might not have discovered the green fungal clusters for a long time.

 

After expending tremendous effort to drive away the avian contaminants, when they thought they could relax their guard, the green fungus that had secretly digested countless corpses could have cost them at least another third of their population.

 

“I have an uncomfortable intuition.” Yunshan frowned. “This seems more like something done by people from the safe zones themselves… Those bastards in the ruins are disgusting and vicious, but most of them aren’t deviants. Logically, they shouldn’t have the ability to bring the green fungus mother strain out of Waste Water.”

 

Huo Yanji curved his fingers, lightly tapping the cold metal table, as if thinking of something.

 

His back clothing was suddenly tugged.

 

Huo Yanji looked back.

 

Sang Jue said quietly: “I won’t touch things randomly. Can I not wear gloves?”

 

Huo Yanji turned sideways, gripped Sang Jue’s wrist, and helped pull off the uncomfortable gloves.

 

Yunshan watched this scene with interest, hearing Huo Yanji ask about another matter: “How’s the spacecraft in the back?”

 

Sang Jue’s heart jumped as he held his breath waiting for Yunshan’s answer.

 

“Good progress. The spacecraft’s outer hatch was damaged due to high-speed crash, so we successfully opened it.”

 

“!” The dragon was shocked.

 

Huo Yanji continued asking: “Any discoveries?”

 

Yunshan said: “Not very significant discoveries… Although the outer hatch opened, we can only enter a space of less than ten square meters, seems like an alien rest room.”

 

Sang Jue was a bit confused.

 

Before coming, the doctor had emphasized that the spacecraft’s resources must never be handed over to any particular group. He had to ensure the resources would be used for civilization reconstruction and all humanity, which is why he needed to find someone with ‘prince’ qualities to ensure resources wouldn’t be privatized… wouldn’t cause internal human conflicts.

 

Yunshan didn’t avoid the topic either, directly leading the two to another laboratory.

 

Although the discovery of the alien spacecraft was still classified from ordinary residents, the safe zone leadership basically all knew, so there was no point in Sang Jue avoiding the situation.

 

He followed in bewilderment, carefully recalling what things he had placed in the spacecraft’s rest room.

 

Sang Jue hadn’t entered the hibernation pod immediately upon boarding the spacecraft. He had lived alone for a while with curiosity, initially full of wonder at the vast universe, but soon felt lonely.

 

Compared to the universe, he was like a speck of dust, a lonely speck of dust.

 

So after half a month, he chose hibernation until this awakening.

 

Yunshan led them to a white platform displaying some seemingly strange but very familiar items to Sang Jue—

 

A palm-sized sculpture of unclear shape, a deep blue gemstone, a black-gray rectangular stone, and a long, rough rope.

 

“These are all the items taken from inside, none contaminated.” Yunshan said. “From the spacecraft’s external precision, it should come from a highly technologically advanced civilized planet.”

 

Huo Yanji picked up the sculpture first. It mainly depicted two creatures. The left creature was no different from humans, with torso, limbs, facial features, and hair.

 

“From the figure on the left of the sculpture, the life forms on their planet should be similar to ours.” Yunshan nodded. “The right one seems to be the left person’s mount, but we haven’t analyzed what creature it is yet.”

 

Generally speaking, ancient people liked to leave information through sculptures and murals. This sculpture should represent part of their civilization in some sense.

 

Huo Yanji observed for a moment and said: “A wolf-dog with wings and horns?”

 

“…” Sang Jue stared at the back of Huo Yanji’s head, angry.

 

—You’re the dog, your whole family are mount dogs!

 

This was a clay sculpture Sang Jue had carved with his own hands, representing the great friendship between a prince and an evil dragon saving the world together. When the mission was complete, he would give the sculpture as a gift to the prince, then retire successfully and return to his home planet.

 

He had originally wanted to carve a bigger one, but it was really too difficult.

 

Not wanting to arouse suspicion, the little evil dragon suggested in as gentle a tone as possible: “Don’t you think it looks like a dragon?”

 

Yunshan stroked his chin: “Now that you mention it, it does a bit…”

 

Huo Yanji lifted his lips slightly: “If dragons on this planet look like dogs, then it does resemble one.”

 

Sang Jue: “…”

 

Sang Jue wanted to break off friendship with Huo Yanji.

 

Ever since learning he was a deviant, Huo Yanji had been very mean to him. Too bad.

 

—Huo Yanji really did hate deviants after all.

 

Yunshan suppressed a laugh, not expecting Huo Yanji to have such mischievous humor, though he looked very serious on the surface.

 

“Look at these two sapphires.” He took another sapphire from his white coat pocket and placed it alongside the one found in the spacecraft. “Can you see the difference between these two gems?”

 

Huo Yanji looked thoughtful: “Not much difference.”

 

Yunshan nodded: “This one was brought out from the dragon’s lair in the Eye of Bliss valley by a mercenary team earlier. Except for slight shape differences, the materials and purity are almost identical to the one from the spacecraft.”

 

This meant the planet the spacecraft came from likely had the same material structure as their planet, so the needed resources would be similar too.

 

“I don’t know how to put this…” Yunshan frowned. “It’s too strange. What’s the significance of them sending a spacecraft to land here? Communication? Invasion? Or do they want to seize resources?”

 

Huo Yanji played with the two gems, indeed finding no visible differences.

 

He said flatly: “Several hundred years ago was the peak of our technological level.”

 

Dr. Yunshan was stunned: “What?”

 

Huo Yanji put down one of the sapphires: “In our scientific history, detection of extraterrestrial civilizations has never stopped, but even at the peak of our technological level, we couldn’t find a single planet suitable for migration in this star system.

 

If this spacecraft comes from another star system, how many light-years away do you think it’s from?”

 

Yunshan fell silent, slowly shaking his head: “We’ll have to wait until we open the inner hatch to know its secrets—where it comes from, whether there are life forms inside the spacecraft, and what their purpose is…”

 

A certain life form inside the spacecraft was glaring at them indignantly.

 

On this strange planet, the spacecraft was equivalent to Sang Jue’s home. If not for the accident of being struck by lightning, Sang Jue should be sleeping soundly in the pile of gems inside the spacecraft right now.

 

But these people had actually opened his home without permission and stolen his things.

 

Taking without asking is theft—a bunch of thieves!

 

Yunshan: “As for what this stone and string are used for, we don’t have any clues yet.”

 

Sang Jue made an almost inaudible “hmph” sound. These humans with low intelligence might never guess—

 

That rectangular stone was what he used to polish his horns, and the string was for grinding dragon teeth.

 

Unlike Yunshan’s worry about extraterrestrial civilization, Huo Yanji was very composed. He even casually took a sapphire and tossed it to Sang Jue: “For you.”

 

He left without looking back.

 

“?” Yunshan was shocked, even forgetting to use honorifics as he rushed forward, completely unable to tell them apart: “Wait! Which one did you give? The one from the spacecraft or our own?”

 

Sang Jue held the sapphire, even angrier.

 

Stealing his things to give to him—does this make sense!

 

Yunshan coaxed with a bitter face: “I’ll trade you another gem for this one, okay?”

 

“No.”

 

Sang Jue was angry like a pufferfish and turned to leave.

 

He looked down at the gem in his palm and unknowingly lost track of Huo Yanji, walking to a dead end in the research institute.

 

His mood became even more depressed.

 

Clearly, he had entered the hibernation pod shortly after boarding the spacecraft, and these years of space flight were just a fleeting moment for the sleeping him…

 

But looking at the blue gem in his hand, Sang Jue had a feeling he’d never had before—those years away from his home planet had passed for a very long time, perhaps ten years, fifty years, or even longer.

 

He remembered some distant memories that were both strange and familiar—

 

After digesting that baby’s genes, Sang Jue had grown to age six in human form. He was very small then, his head only reaching an adult’s waist, and an adult’s broad palm could completely enclose his small, short hand.

 

Though no one had ever done so before.

 

That year was also the closest he’d come to death.

 

Sang Jue had no concept of death, and still didn’t now.

 

He only remembered it hurt a lot. The crazed Millie had thrown him from the top of the experimental building. All his limbs suffered compound fractures, his neck was twisted and broken, his face was stained with dirty blood, his shin bone pierced through skin and flesh, and he bled so, so much.

 

But he didn’t cry, because he couldn’t cry—he hadn’t learned how.

 

Dr. Anya found him barely alive, held him in her arms and asked: “Who did this?”

 

Sang Jue didn’t tell on anyone.

 

He just looked up at the doctor, his face showing childlike innocent confusion: “Why does she want me to die? Is it because I can’t cry?”

 

He didn’t want to be human anymore.

 

He had clearly been so well-behaved, hadn’t cried or made trouble, and had even called Millie mama, yet Millie was so, so mean to him.

 

When he woke up again, he had become a little evil dragon and didn’t want to transform back into human form.

 

But Dr. Anya was really wonderful.

 

Afraid that Millie would continue to hurt him, she always kept him, as an evil dragon, by her side—back then, as an evil dragon, he was also very small, only reaching the doctor’s chest even with his horns.

 

The doctor would stroke his horns, help smooth his wings, and caress his tail. She would also read him fairy tales that Millie had never read to him, make him delicious food, and give him gems.

 

This sapphire was given to him by the doctor on the day he transformed back into human form again.

 

The doctor said: “No one’s existence is wrong. Our Sang Jue is like this gem—a treasure created by God.”

 

The little evil dragon asked: “Why did God create me? Where is He?”

 

The doctor had no answer either: “I don’t know either. Perhaps He is nature, this planet, or maybe other matter in the universe, space, or deep within the planet.”

 

After that, Dr. Anya became his guardian.

 

Ninety-nine percent of the people in the laboratory were very good to him, with only that one percent exception.

 

…

 

“Sang Jue.”

 

Sang Jue looked up and saw Huo Yanji in military uniform walking toward him.

 

Sang Jue suddenly understood the sense of “disconnection” that Bao Cang had mentioned.

 

He had clearly just slept, yet had arrived at such a distant place, giving him an illusion of being separated by lifetimes.

 

Huo Yanji pulled him out of this illusion, his calm tone reassuring: “Don’t you like it?”

 

“I like it.” Afraid Huo Yanji would take it back, Sang Jue quickly put away the gem. “In the past, every time my guardian went out for necessary business, she would bring back a gem as a gift for me. If she was gone for a long time, then two gems.”

 

Sang Jue made a gesture for the number two.

 

Huo Yanji didn’t ask who the guardian was: “Why didn’t you go out with her?”

 

Sang Jue looked at Huo Yanji sullenly.

 

Huo Yanji: “Don’t want to say?”

 

Sang Jue lowered his head and made an “mm” sound.

 

Looking at the cowlick on top of Sang Jue’s head, Huo Yanji turned slightly: “Want to look around more? There are many creatures similar to the Lost Deer here.”

 

Sang Jue hesitated: “Okay.”

 

As long as they kept their distance, those creatures shouldn’t become agitated.

 

Sang Jue felt like he had come to an upgraded zoo, finding everything novel.

 

Sang Jue: “This is the ugliest jellyfish I’ve ever seen…”

 

Usually jellyfish were transparent and light-colored, very beautiful, but the jellyfish undulating in the water now was brown, looking dirty like sewage flowing in drains.

 

Sang Jue: “Is it poisonous?”

 

Huo Yanji’s mind seemed to contain information about all contaminants, knowing their characteristics without needing to read labels: “No, but the liquid it sprays is very smelly.”

 

“Smellier than a skunk’s fart?”

 

“Skunk?”

 

The two stared at each other for a while, and Sang Jue vaguely looked away—were there no creatures called skunks on this planet?

 

He pretended he hadn’t said anything and turned to look at another glass tank: “This octopus is so beautiful.”

 

Swimming in the water was a translucent octopus with slender, graceful tentacles that changed colors, sometimes blue, sometimes purple, very dreamlike.

 

Huo Yanji: “It’s called Colored Glass. This one was just born recently. It’s a medium-small octopus that will only grow as tall as you when mature.”

 

Sang Jue: “…You’re insulting me.”

 

Huo Yanji: “What did I insult you about?”

 

Sang Jue frowned: “You called me small.”

 

A light laugh came from above. Sang Jue quickly looked up, keenly catching the fleeting smile at the corner of Huo Yanji’s lips.

 

Hmph.

 

Although he smiled beautifully, it was very mean.

 

While Sang Jue looked around, Huo Yanji gazed thoughtfully at the mutant matsutake mushrooms in cultivation chamber No. 3.

 

A tube extended down from above the cultivation chamber, irrigating something into the soil. Huo Yanji soon remembered—it was alcohol.

 

Many fungal plants liked to “drink,” but they had no mouth parts, absorbing half through their root systems and half through natural absorption by the fungal surface.

 

Huo Yanji narrowed his eyes. Lingzhi mushrooms were also fungi.

 

Earlier, Sang Jue had been very certain he hadn’t drunk the bath water, but last night he had clearly looked drunk…

 

Before his thoughts could connect, the communicator rang once.

 

Huo Yanji pressed to answer and asked: “What’s the matter?”

 

Sang Jue turned back and saw Huo Yanji let out a cold, mocking laugh: “They came really fast.”

 

Sang Jue asked: “Are you going to be busy?”

 

Huo Yanji checked the time: “I’m going to a meeting, but the administrative building is far from here.”

 

“I’ll go with you.” Sang Jue added, “I can wait for you nearby.”

 

Huo Yanji agreed. It wouldn’t be proper to leave Sang Jue alone at the research institute.

 

The administrative building was indeed far. It was an hour later when Sang Jue could see the building’s shadow in the distance.

 

As the rail car was about to reach the station, Huo Yanji said: “There are some memorial activities nearby. You can walk around if you’re bored, but don’t trust strangers who approach you randomly, and don’t eat anything carelessly.”

 

Sang Jue seriously declared: “I’m not a three-year-old child.

 

Huo Yanji said: “Better not be.”

 

Noticing there were no cameras in the rail car, Sang Jue turned around, his tail sneaking out unnoticed: “Touch it once.”

 

Huo Yanji: “…”

 

Sang Jue turned back and said obediently: “Just this once, it won’t happen again.”

 

Sang Jue’s comprehension and ability to use idioms had always been top-notch.

 

This time Huo Yanji wasn’t wearing gloves. He touched the hard scales and gently encircled them.

 

The cold texture was unexpectedly pleasant. He could suddenly understand why everyone liked keeping pets thousands of years ago, and why cats and dogs stood out among so many pet species.

 

Because they were most attuned to human nature, with high interactive satisfaction.

 

Although Sang Jue’s tail wasn’t fluffy like cats and dogs, the slender tail tip swishing back and forth always made one want to pinch it.

 

Huo Yanji withdrew his hand and left with a final statement: “Keep a safe distance from people.”

 

Sang Jue made an acknowledging sound.

 

Huo Yanji’s tail-touching technique wasn’t as good as the doctor’s—but substitutes were like that, hard to compare to the original. It would do for now.

 

The rail car’s universal electronic female voice reminded: “Central Building Station has been reached. Please disembark in an orderly manner.”

 

Sang Jue followed behind Huo Yanji as they got off the train, and the two parted ways there.

 

Sang Jue walked into the crowd while Huo Yanji entered the imposing administrative building.

 

Just as the elevator doors were about to close, Lin Shuyi and his aide walked in.

 

Huo Yanji nodded: “Commander.”

 

“People from the Supreme Council have arrived. The city defense is over, and they’re rushing to eat hot shit.” Lin Shuyi spoke very rudely, but still softened his voice to remind: “Prepare yourself mentally. Although the order to defend to the death was decided by all of us voting, they’ll definitely target you with their criticism.”

 

Huo Yanji was very calm: “What’s meant to come will come.”

 

Lin Shuyi sneered: “These people have just been comfortable for too long. Their mouths are sharper than bullets, thinking they can defend this city without losing a single soldier just by moving their lips.”

 

Huo Yanji let out an ambiguous laugh. Though it was a laugh, it only made people feel cold and detached.

 

Lin Shuyi: “I heard you brought a little guy along this time, and you two are quite close?”

 

Huo Yanji: “The Commander’s ears work very well.”

 

Unlike others who just wanted to gossip, Lin Shuyi thought more deeply. He raised an eyebrow and speculated: “Tell me the truth—did you deliberately bring that little guy along because you’re planning something?”

 

“No.”

 

Lin Shuyi teased: “Don’t deceive people’s feelings. Be careful that one day when he learns the truth and gets angry, he’ll bite you to death.”

 

When Sang Jue bit people, it would probably hurt a lot. He had a pair of slightly sharp small fangs on the inside of his teeth that were usually invisible but would be exposed when eating.

 

The elevator doors opened. Huo Yanji came back to his senses and gestured for Lin Shuyi to go first: “Commander, with such a rich imagination, you should switch careers to writing. People nowadays have extremely impoverished spiritual worlds and really need talents like the Commander.”

 

Lin Shuyi said in surprise: “Oh my, you’ve learned to be sarcastic?”

 

Around the corner was the conference hall, where two neat rows of people were already seated, just waiting for the two of them.

 

District Seven’s administrator Norman sat in the center position, while the upper section was occupied by several councilors from the Supreme Council.

 

They were all dressed in suits and ties, as if they still lived in that peaceful and glorious era from thousands of years ago.

 

·

 

Sang Jue wandered through the crowd, the air filled with a sorrow he couldn’t empathize with.

 

Some people stared blankly, others were numb like walking corpses. Just as Bao Cang had said before—after friends, family, and lovers all died one after another, how were these survivors supposed to keep living?

 

Sang Jue thought for a moment and asked 007: “Would Huo Yanji be a suitable prince?”

 

007 was an AI that only looked at data, making absolutely fair judgments without personal emotions.

 

“You don’t need to rush. Whether he’s suitable isn’t something that can be determined in a short time,” 007 said. “Even if he is the ‘prince’ candidate, he still needs to grow. There are still some of his kind who can check and balance him.”

 

Sang Jue pressed his lips together: “But I don’t want him to be the prince.”

 

007 asked: “Why?”

 

“Princes have very important responsibilities—they have to inherit the throne, marry princesses, save their people—” Sang Jue said. “That way he couldn’t come with me.”

 

007 asked: “…Come with you?”

 

Sang Jue voiced his inner thoughts: “When the spacecraft is repaired and the mission is complete, can I bring Huo Yanji back to my home planet?”

 

007 didn’t understand: “Why would you want to bring him back to your home planet?”

 

“I don’t know—”

 

For evil dragons, beautiful things they liked had to be brought home and treasured, without reason—like gems.

 

Huo Yanji smelled nice and looked good, worthy of treasuring.

 

“Do you think he would agree if I invited him back to my home planet?”

 

“I don’t know.”

 

Sang Jue muttered to himself: “If he doesn’t agree, I’ll knock him unconscious and take him away—or eat him up, so he’ll be by my side forever.”

 

The little evil dragon’s thinking logic was always different from ordinary people. 007 said: “I wish you success.”

 

Without realizing it, Sang Jue had walked to the center of the square.

 

The endless steps were covered with paper-folded flower bouquets representing people’s mourning, with vendors selling paper flowers nearby.

 

As night gradually deepened, Sang Jue’s attention was drawn to the center of the square—

 

There was a circle of candles with a group of people standing around them, hands clasped at their chests, devoutly and solemnly reciting something in unison.

 

He moved closer and could finally hear clearly—it seemed to be a poem.

 

“I wish to live in the dawn of all under heaven

To compose poetry with the joys and sorrows of all living beings

I desire to build an eternal mansion for ten thousand years

Even if my strength falls short

As long as I still live

I hope to find a resting place among you

Surely you will all pluck these flowers

I should make new song-flowers bloom each day

Smile as you gather these flowers

If the flowers wither in the future

Please cast them aside with peace of mind…”

 

People opened their eyes and whispered their wishes: “O departed ones, please do not weep for us.”

 

Sang Jue blinked, unable to understand.

 

How could the departed weep for the living?

 

But not understanding didn’t prevent him from continuing to listen. Behind layers of figures, there seemed to be a girl standing in the center of the candle circle.

 

The girl slowly removed her hood, revealing silver-white hair. Her eyebrows, eyelashes, and even pupils were white, like a sickly angel.

 

Golden candlelight fell on her face. She turned her head and looked at Sang Jue across the crowd with those eyes that appeared to be blind. Though she had no expression, one could feel a faint sadness from her.

 

“Whoosh—” a sound of wind approached.

 

Sang Jue felt pain in his lower back. Reaching back to touch it, he found a syringe shot from a distance stuck in his waist.

 

Paralysis swept through his entire body, very much like the feeling of being injected with anesthetic on the first day he landed.

 

His body swayed, and he fell backward uncontrollably. In his blurred vision, he saw a figure approaching him—a human scent he had smelled before… a foul one.

 

He wanted to call Huo Yanji—he hadn’t wandered off, someone was trying to kidnap him—but his arms and fingertips were all paralyzed and couldn’t move.

 

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