EDEH Chapter 30

Wei Lan said, “The Council people haven’t left yet, but they’re frustrated because they misjudged the ‘weight’ of the aircraft and can’t move it. I heard Mr. Black went back and threw a huge tantrum.”

 

Huo Yanji made a noncommittal sound, unsurprised.

 

“Sir, if I may ask,” Wei Lan paused, “what’s so special about this aircraft that the Council would risk their reputation to try and seize it openly?”

 

Huo Yanji didn’t answer, only saying, “Colin is still alive.”

 

There was a long silence on the other end before Wei Lan’s voice came, sounding calm: “That’s good.”

 

Huo Yanji said, “Congratulations,” but before Wei Lan could respond, the call ended with a beep.

 

The supplies in this community were considerable, but only by the community’s standards.

 

It would be a shame to leave them, but taking them would be troublesome.

 

About three hours later, Shui Ming finished compiling an inventory: “Sir, their reading corner has 87 books, two of which are rare first editions by famous authors!”

 

That was probably the most meaningful find of this trip.

 

Writing is the continuation of civilization; no matter how hard the times, humans have never given up recording and expressing themselves.

 

Unfortunately, the meteor season a century ago destroyed not only many libraries but also the servers of many websites, causing humanity to lose more than 80% of its written works.

 

“There are still more than a dozen pigs in the pigsty,” Shui Ming said with difficulty. “We probably don’t have any extra vehicles to transport them.”

 

Huo Yanji replied, “Just leave them here.”

 

Shui Ming was taken aback. “But they’ll starve to death…”

 

Huo Yanji said, “A month ago, the application to establish a wilderness rescue station was approved.”

 

Shui Ming was stunned. Whether for the military district or mercenaries, the death rate for missions outside the city was always high—largely because of the lack of timely support, running out of supplies, or vehicle breakdowns, leaving people to die alone far from home.

 

Huo Yanji had submitted the wilderness rescue station proposal twenty-one times, only to be rejected twenty times. It was finally approved a month ago, but many districts were uncooperative, thinking it wasn’t worth reallocating manpower.

 

But anyone who read Huo Yanji’s detailed construction plan would realize it was a clear net positive.

 

Shui Ming was a bit disgruntled. “If they’re so sure, why not ask the people’s opinion—see whether more would agree or oppose?”

 

“Everything needs a beginning.” Huo Yanji looked around. “Let’s make this the first station.”

 

Shui Ming had to admit this was a good spot: it was only twenty kilometers from Rift No. 2[mfn]it sounds better than Crack#2[/mfn]—while the rift brought contamination, it also provided survivors with many resources, and the area around the rift was where mercenaries most often gathered.

 

If the station succeeded, mercenaries and soldiers within a hundred kilometers could come for supplies.

 

Huo Yanji had also submitted a proposal to add a “rescue channel” to communicators, currently in planning. Once implemented, people in the wild could call for help through this channel in emergencies.

 

Shui Ming asked, “But how do we deal with the spore-infected zone around here?”

 

“Spores can be dispersed,” Huo Yanji said calmly. “Their main source is the lingzhi mushrooms on the ground, which proliferate because of severe surface pollution and an abundance of wastewater.”

 

“But won’t the cleanup cost be high?” Shui Ming asked.

 

Huo Yanji’s tone didn’t change. “Use my personal account for now.”

 

Shui Ming was momentarily surprised. “Alright.”

 

Unlike the disgruntled Shui Ming, Huo Yanji could understand why other safe zones were uncooperative. For example, District Five was already short-handed; asking them to spare people for a wilderness rescue station was too much.

 

But the root cause of the manpower shortage was the high death rate among mercenaries and soldiers on outside missions. Solve that, and things would gradually improve.

 

The main city was one of the few safe zones with enough resources and people. If it set a good example, the others would follow.

 

This location was excellent: there was a dam, existing livestock and vegetable plots, houses that had been lived in for nearly twenty years, and even a wind power installation.

 

Other costs would include building a watchtower, a wall, and clearing the surrounding spore zone. Of course, manpower and time were also factors.

 

An hour later, as the sun was about to set, everything was finally settled and they could leave.

 

Shui Ming handed over two protective masks and a communicator. “Sir, this is Sang Jue’s.”

 

Huo Yanji took it. “Where is he?”

 

“He went over to the pigsty. He seems very interested—probably never seen a pig before.”

 

Huo Yanji walked toward the pigsty but didn’t see Sang Jue; instead, he spotted a figure sitting on the stone bridge by the dam in the distance, hugging the railing with his legs dangling outside.

 

Before Huo Yanji got close, Sang Jue caught his scent. “Not done yet?”

 

“All set. We leave in twenty minutes,” Huo Yanji replied.

 

Sang Jue was already tired of waiting.

 

He’d originally been angry at Huo Yanji for teasing him, but after waiting so long, he’d forgotten all about it.

 

“Do you like pigs?”

 

“They’re kind of cute,” Sang Jue tilted his head. “Don’t you think so?”

 

“I thought you didn’t like smelly things?”

 

“I don’t like smelly people,” Sang Jue corrected. “And pigs aren’t that smelly—their living space is just too small.”

 

“Put your mask on. We’re leaving,” Huo Yanji said.

 

Sang Jue got up. “Don’t you believe me? They’re actually very clean animals.”

 

“I believe you.” Huo Yanji nodded. “The pigs in the main city’s agricultural district are very clean, since the environment is good and the temperature is controlled year-round.”

 

Sang Jue thought for a moment and asked, “Can I go down and wash up? I’m really dirty.”

 

He’d only arrived a little before Huo Yanji and was still debating whether to go down.

 

Huo Yanji checked the time. “You can. Ten minutes.”

 

Almost all river-dwelling creatures were extinct now, and there were hardly any contaminants, so the flowing water in the wild looked clean and was actually safe.

 

“Just stay in the shallow area.”

 

“Okay!”

 

The local residents probably still did laundry here; there were stone slabs on both sides.

 

Sang Jue walked down from the slabs. The current was fast, but he moved steadily.

 

It was December, but the weather was still hot. The water was warm, and it felt good as it flowed over his body.

 

Golden sunlight shimmered on the water, tinting half of Sang Jue’s body a warm color.

 

Huo Yanji stood on the stone bridge, leaning on the safety rail. The sound of rushing water was in his ears, and in his eyes was Sang Jue, standing in the water with a faint, unintentional smile on his face.

 

Sang Jue seemed genuinely happy. He scooped up water to wash his face, and instead of wiping it off with his hand or sleeve, he shook it off—like a pure little animal.

 

The little animal looked up and called out from afar, “Do you want to come down and play too?”

 

Huo Yanji replied, “No.”

 

“Alright then.” Even though he was refused, it didn’t affect Sang Jue’s good mood at all.

 

Thinking back on their time together, Sang Jue had rarely smiled—most of the time, his expression was just innocently blank.

 

When he did smile, it was only like now, with the corners of his mouth gently lifted.

 

It was as if he was holding back, or maybe he just didn’t know how to laugh out loud.

 

Sang Jue obediently came up within the allotted time. “I’m done.”

 

Huo Yanji wiped the water from his face and fastened his protective mask.

 

Sang Jue was a bit surprised. “It fits perfectly.”

 

It wasn’t too big after all.

 

Huo Yanji gave a quiet “mm,” then put the communicator wristband back on Sang Jue. “The tracking chip’s been removed. Let’s go.”

 

Out of the corner of his eye, Huo Yanji noticed the large wind turbines on both sides that had long since stopped turning. His gaze shifted—people whose ancestors had always lived in the ruins were unlikely to know how wind power worked.

 

Sang Jue noticed where he was looking and said, “Ah Qin said that years ago, a man wandered in, got infected by spores but kept his sanity, and ended up staying to teach them a lot of things.”

 

Huo Yanji paused. “What was his name?”

 

Sang Jue shook his head. “Ah Qin said she was too young then and doesn’t remember.”

 

They left the area side by side and returned to the convoy by the roadside.

 

Colin, seeing Sang Jue soaked from head to toe, wore an expression of secondhand embarrassment under his bandages.

 

He must have gotten all cuddly with the boss again.

 

Why can’t the General just restrain himself a little!?

 

Colin could even picture the General tricking Sang Jue into the water, crouching on the bank and demanding a kiss before letting him come back up.

 

Truly wicked!

 

Just then, Huo Yanji’s cool voice sounded in his ear: “Colonel Colin.”

 

“Ah.” Colin realized he’d been staring at Sang Jue and quickly looked away, stammering, “No, General, it’s not what you think, you know I like… I was just noticing his clothes were wet, and… damn.”

 

The more he tried to explain, the worse it got.

 

Huo Yanji glanced at him. “Did the slime mold infect your brain too?”

 

Colin looked around and saw that everyone else was already in the vehicles—only he, Sang Jue, and Huo Yanji were left.

 

He hurriedly pulled open the car door.

 

Huo Yanji said, “Get in the car behind us.”

 

Colin: “Yes, sir…”

 

Great, now the General’s annoyed with me.

 

Once inside, he realized the military doctor was there, waiting to check his condition—not just his injuries, but also whether the contamination level in his body had stabilized.

 

After everyone else had gone, Huo Yanji took off his jacket and handed it to Sang Jue. “Put this on.”

 

Although the weather was nice, Sang Jue had already run a fever twice in just a couple of weeks.

 

As for his pants, the fabric was thin and would dry quickly.

 

Sang Jue obediently took off his shirt. “Okay.”

 

Huo Yanji turned away, only opening the vehicle door again after the rustling behind him had stopped, gesturing for Sang Jue to get in first.

 

Inside the vehicle, besides Sang Jue and Huo Yanji, there were the tightly bound Governor, Shui Ming, and a supervisor recording everything.

 

It was clear they were about to interrogate the Governor right here.

 

When they saw Huo Yanji board in just a white shirt, everyone was momentarily stunned. “…General.”

 

Whether compared to ordinary people or deviants, Huo Yanji’s figure was exceptional—tall and upright, strong yet graceful, broad-shouldered and narrow-waisted. When he bent down, he had the presence of a crouching leopard.

 

Huo Yanji signaled for them to stay seated and led Sang Jue to sit down.

 

He pressed his earpiece. “Let’s go.”

 

The dirt road was bumpy, but everyone was long used to the jolting ride.

 

Huo Yanji looked at the Governor across from him and said calmly, “Start talking.”

 

The Governor looked up listlessly. “Talk about what?”

 

Huo Yanji let out a faint, mocking laugh. “You were so scared you nearly wet yourself when Leon came for you, weren’t you?”

 

The Governor’s eyelids trembled, but he said nothing.

 

“You seem to have some misconceptions about me,” Huo Yanji said. “Huo Jiangmian and I share the same genes and bloodline, received the same education, and even our military careers are nearly identical. Do you really think keeping your mouth shut will make you suffer less with me than with him?”

 

The supervisor quietly amended his notes, changing every “Huo Jiangmian” to “General Huo Jiangmian.” The boss might be rebellious, but the underlings couldn’t follow suit.

 

The Governor still had enough energy to sneer. “Really? Then why did he accept the contaminated genes, but you didn’t—ahhh!!”

 

The supervisor looked up. Huo Yanji hadn’t moved at all—it was Sang Jue, sitting beside him, who had kicked the Governor in the knee.

 

Alright, no need to record that.

 

The supervisor lowered his head again; his job was only to document the dialogue during the interrogation.

 

Sang Jue frowned. “I don’t like the way you talk. Answer properly.”

 

He actually wanted to nap in the car, and he was hungry too, but eating during an interrogation just didn’t feel right.

 

The Governor cursed in pain. “Damn! Why the hell should I care what you like!?”

 

Where the hell did this little freak come from!?

 

Huo Yanji pulled out the long dagger strapped to his leg and played with it for a moment. “Compared to Huo Jiangmian, my methods of torture might be a bit more straightforward.

 

“You have twenty fingers, and I have a sharp knife—and the best hemostatic medicine.”

 

The Governor’s face went pale as he slowly looked up. “If I tell you about the hostages and the list, what if you just hand me over to Huo… Huo Jiangmian when we get back to the city?”

 

“Good point.” Huo Yanji leaned against the vehicle wall. “Why don’t you start by telling us what’s happened between you and Huo Jiangmian all these years?”

 

Whenever the past came up, the Governor couldn’t help but tremble.

 

Even Shui Ming, who’d been silent all this time, was curious—what had General Huo done to the Governor to turn a once-infamous rebel leader into this?

 

Over a decade ago, the Governor had been the most arrogant rebel leader in the ruins, commanding nearly two thousand men and giving the main city endless headaches. Countless people had died by his hand.

 

Until that time, when he was unexpectedly cornered by a young major and accidentally stumbled into what is now this very community.

 

After settling down with the remaining people, he didn’t expect that less than two years of peace would pass before, while out “hunting,” he was caught once again by that same major.

 

This time, the other personally escorted him to prison. Only then did he realize that the major, having destroyed his base and captured him, had been promoted twice in a row and become the youngest colonel in the main city.

 

Fortunately, the Governor hadn’t wasted his years—he had some connections in prison and managed to escape after three years.

 

But when he returned to the community, he found not only had all the hostility disappeared, but everyone was living peacefully, raising livestock, farming, and it had been a long time since anyone had gone “hunting.”

 

On top of that, another man had taken his place as leader.

 

A cuckoo in the magpie’s nest—how ridiculous.

 

Sang Jue suddenly said, “Ah Qin said you killed him.”

 

Huo Yanji asked, “How did you kill him?”

 

The Governor lowered his head, his knee still throbbing with pain. “No matter how strong a deviant is, a single bullet is all it takes.”

 

“Is that so?” Huo Yanji looked down.

 

“He’s lying,” Sang Jue tugged on Huo Yanji’s sleeve and whispered.

 

He could smell the Governor’s unstable scent—he was lying.

 

Wearing his white shirt, Huo Yanji raised his long dagger, and Shui Ming helped by prying open one of the Governor’s fingers.

 

Huo Yanji said coldly, “I don’t really like dirtying white things… but I can make an exception for you.”

 

The supervisor nearby sighed silently. Should he record this line? If he did, it wouldn’t read well; if he didn’t, the transcript would be awkward, and if the Governor confessed suddenly, it would seem strange.

 

After a long standoff, the Governor finally gave in, but brought up something else: “The year I was first imprisoned, something big happened in the main city—you all should know about it.”

 

Only Sang Jue was confused, but judging by everyone else’s reaction, they clearly did.

 

“At that time, all the guards delivering food to the cell next to mine were talking about it—” The Governor showed a mocking smile, enunciating each word, “The People’s Trial.”

 

It was the first time Sang Jue had heard those words, and he looked up curiously.

 

“That’s why, back then, I remembered the one who was exiled by the People’s Trial even more than Colonel Huo Jiangmian, who captured me.”

 

“His name was Bo Qing. Sounds a lot like ‘heartless,’ doesn’t it? But the man didn’t live up to the name.”

 

The weather on this planet was truly unstable—after only a couple days of sunshine, it started raining again.

 

The drumming of raindrops, combined with the jolting of the armored vehicle, played a low, hoarse requiem.

 

“General Huo, you must remember that name, right? Before you, he was considered the most likely ordinary person to become Supreme Executive among the supervisors.”

 

The Governor continued, “If Bo Qing were still around, you wouldn’t have to work so hard, juggling two positions.”

 

It was as if they’d touched on some unspeakable secret; for a moment, no one in the vehicle spoke, and even their breathing was barely audible.

 

Only the torrential rain outside kept pounding against the roof.

 

The Governor licked his dry, cracked lips and said sarcastically, “The main city, where every inch of land is precious, could spare a cell for someone as vicious as me, but not for Bo Qing.”

 

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