EDEH Chapter 32

“I haven’t seen Sang Jue yet, sir, please wake up!”

 

The man on the ground had his eyes tightly closed, brow furrowed, as if annoyed by the noise. After the words “Sang Jue,” he muttered, “shut up.”

 

Shui Ming was at a loss, muttering, “Sorry, sir, I have to disobey orders now, I can’t shut up. Please wake up—only if you wake up can we find your little sweetheart—no, find the General’s spouse…”

 

Fortunately, his nagging worked. Huo Yanji slowly opened his eyes and pushed himself up, the blood pooled on his chin immediately dripping to the ground.

 

Shui Ming knelt beside him, letting out a long breath of relief.

 

“Sir, just now your vital signs were extremely weak… I had no choice but to inject you with red flower snake venom.”

 

Shui Ming was a deviant, with much stronger vitality. Although his injuries weren’t light, he woke up quickly.

 

Huo Yanji’s condition was far more serious. He didn’t have a deviant’s powerful self-healing; his leg had been pierced by a sharp stalactite, bleeding heavily, his arm was possibly fractured, and worst of all, the internal injuries from the high fall had caused blood to well up in his throat.

 

With no other choice, Shui Ming had to use the red flower snake venom on him.

 

But this stuff can’t be used unless you’re on the verge of death. It only forcibly keeps you alive, restoring a false sense of health. If you don’t get proper treatment within a certain time… it can be fatal.

 

“It’s fine.” Huo Yanji looked up. “What did you just call ‘spouse’?”

 

Shui Ming gave a dry laugh. “I didn’t say anything… You must have misheard?”

 

Huo Yanji glanced at him and held out his hand. “Help me up.”

 

“Yes, but your leg—”

 

Before he could finish, Huo Yanji had already used Shui Ming’s support to stand, forcibly pulling his leg free from the stalactite. Blood immediately dripped faster, “drip, drip,” nonstop.

 

He looked around. They were in a cave, the temperature unnaturally low. Nearby on the ground was a simple lantern frame with a firestone inside, casting a warm light over a two-meter area.

 

The place was a mess, armored vehicle parts scattered everywhere, seven or eight people lying motionless, and no signal on the communicator.

 

Shui Ming half-knelt and took out the gauze he’d prepared, but Huo Yanji refused.

 

“I’ll do it myself.”

 

“Yes, sir…” Shui Ming said awkwardly, “The cars are all wrecked. I searched several backpacks nearby, but couldn’t find any painkillers or hemostatics.”

 

“No matter.” Huo Yanji asked, “Have you checked my contamination index?”

 

“I have. You’re not contaminated by anything—” Shui Ming paused, “Neither am I.”

 

Huo Yanji said, “Go check the others.”

 

“Yes, sir.”

 

Huo Yanji wrapped his leg wound with gauze, pulled it tight, and finally wound a waterproof, anti-contamination bandage around the outside.

 

Once his leg was handled, he bent down, picked up a suitable short stick, and splinted his possibly fractured left hand. Then he quickly bandaged his other scrapes.

 

Huo Yanji’s expression never changed, as if he didn’t feel pain at all.

 

Shui Ming couldn’t help glancing back—no matter how many times he saw it, he was always amazed by the General’s tolerance for pain.

 

Huo Yanji picked up the lantern frame and, together with Shui Ming, checked the other survivors. The doctor was already dead. The driver had been impaled through the abdomen by a long stalactite, his heart long since stopped.

 

Huo Yanji walked a few steps, then turned back and grabbed the driver’s jaw, his expression cold. “When did your team get a new member?”

 

“Working under you, casualties have always been low, so HR always sends new recruits to other teams… My team hasn’t had any new people for half a year.”

 

Shui Ming walked over and looked at the driver’s face, his own face turning pale in an instant. “You’re right… he’s not from my team.”

 

Huo Yanji said coldly, “This is how you do your job!?”

 

Shui Ming lowered his head. “I’m willing to accept any punishment.”

 

Although the crash was caused by a road explosion, if they’d noticed the driver had been swapped, they would have been on alert and might have avoided the disaster.

 

“Turn yourself in to the military supervision department when we get out.”

 

“…Yes, sir.”

 

Huo Yanji asked, “Any other survivors?”

 

Shui Ming hesitated. “The recorder seems to be alive—his injuries look lighter than yours.”

 

As he finished, a faint groan came from that direction.

 

“Check his contamination index,” Huo Yanji said after a pause. “If he’s clear, inject him with a dose of red flower snake venom.”

 

“But I only found two doses—one went to you, and the other…”

 

Meeting Huo Yanji’s gaze, Shui Ming spoke bluntly: “Aren’t you going to save one for Sang Jue?”

 

In his mind, since the General was so badly hurt, Sang Jue’s thin, frail body would be in even worse shape… or he might already be dead. The red flower snake venom could save a life at a critical moment.

 

Huo Yanji said, “Ten years in the military, and all you learned was how to abuse your authority?”

 

Shui Ming froze.

 

He didn’t know what Huo Yanji was feeling when he said that—after all, this decision could determine the life or death of two people.

 

He hadn’t cared about the “little sweetheart” comment before, but the first name Huo Yanji called out when he was near death was Sang Jue…

 

One was a beloved, the other a mere subordinate—which was more important?

 

As he injected the recorder with the red flower snake venom, Shui Ming suddenly recalled a very idealistic saying—life cannot be compared.

 

Shui Ming reacted quickly this time, using his beast-like arm to grab the slender tip of the tentacle, while its thick base was even wider than both his thighs put together.

 

A tentacle this massive had strength far beyond what an ordinary deviant could withstand. In just a moment, Shui Ming was flung and slammed against the opposite rock wall, letting out a muffled grunt.

 

The flashlight crashed to the ground, and the huge tentacle’s shadow above them swayed.

 

Just as the tip of the tentacle was about to force its way into Shui Ming’s mouth, Huo Yanji swiftly drew his long dagger that had already pierced the tentacle’s base and slashed down hard!

 

As if it felt pain, the tentacle in the air stiffened for two seconds, then crashed to the ground, kicking up a cloud of dust.

 

“Cough, cough…” Shui Ming covered his mouth, staring in shock at the severed, shivering tentacle on the ground. “How can it be this big?”

 

Eighty percent of soldiers had been into the rift, but the deepest most had ever gone was about five hundred meters underground, usually to collect some rift-specific genes.

 

Years ago, Shui Ming had led a team into Rift No. 2, but the largest tentacle he’d seen then was only as thick as his calf.

 

Huo Yanji calmly wiped his dagger. “Be prepared—the deeper we go, the bigger the tentacles we might encounter.”

 

This tentacle seemed to grow out of the rock wall, with no visible origin. The cut surface was oozing a blackish-purple liquid that resembled blood—

 

This was the wild contaminated gene the research institute needed. After a series of treatments to reduce its toxicity to a certain level, it could be made usable for humans.

 

But even after being severed, it didn’t mean the tentacle was dying; within just a few months, it would regrow a new tentacle body.

 

Shui Ming still couldn’t understand: “Is it an animal or a plant?”

 

Animals don’t grow in the ground, but calling it a plant didn’t quite fit either. The tentacle was mostly made of skin, flesh, and fluid, similar to humans, just without bones.

 

How did its base survive in solid rock? Where did it get its nutrients?

 

These were still mysteries.

 

“Do you really want to know?”

 

Damn, is this going to be another dark secret? Maybe it’s better not to know.

 

Shui Ming shrank back. “I’d rather stay in the dark, sir.”

 

A faint, mocking laugh echoed through the cave.

 

Behind them, Ran Zhen was still diligently recording everything he saw, doing his best to stay alert.

 

“The deeper we go, the less aggressive the tentacles become,” Huo Yanji reminded. “They’re fundamentally different from the contaminated creatures on the surface. Their aggression is mainly triggered by noise and strong light—so keep quiet.”

 

Ran Zhen nodded. “Understood.”

 

Shui Ming already knew this; teams collecting contaminated genes always used night-vision goggles to avoid stimulating the tentacles with bright light.

 

After the recent lesson, Shui Ming was especially cautious.

 

There was only one path under their feet—no choice but to go forward or back.

 

“Whoosh…”

 

It sounded like wind.

 

But how could there be wind two thousand meters down in the rift?

 

Shui Ming listened carefully and whispered, “Sir… it sounds like someone breathing.”

 

Huo Yanji signaled to keep moving.

 

The cave grew narrower as they went, and after about twenty meters, they saw a familiar figure lying on the ground up ahead.

 

Ran Zhen recognized him immediately. “It’s that male doctor from the community.”

 

At the same time, Huo Yanji spoke in a low voice, “Don’t move, don’t speak. Hold the lantern in your left hand.”

 

Ran Zhen froze, then stiffly did as told. Only then did he notice two faint, thick shadows overhead.

 

“Avoid the stalagmites underfoot and move forward.”

 

Ran Zhen swallowed and moved forward slowly. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a tentacle embedded in the rock wall slowly probing out, its flexible tip curling as if searching for the source of the noise.

 

After getting more than ten meters away, Ran Zhen finally let out a deep breath, still shaken.

 

To his left, Huo Yanji acted as if nothing had happened and was already checking on the doctor.

 

Shui Ming looked up. “His abdomen was pierced by a stalagmite, but it looks like it missed the intestines and organs. The bleeding isn’t too bad, and he’s done some emergency bandaging himself.”

 

They were now on the inner side at the bottom of the rift—there’s no way he could have fallen here. The doctor must have walked over on his own.

 

Shui Ming had seen the list of community residents and knew this man was Ah Qin’s father.

 

He tried to wake him. “Doctor? Doctor?”

 

After a while, the doctor slowly opened his eyes, momentarily confused.

 

He hesitated. “Where is this?”

 

Huo Yanji’s eyes flickered. “This is Rift No. 2. Where did you come from?”

 

The doctor shook his head to clear it, then pointed. “That way. Ah Qin… Ah Qin is there too…”

 

Shui Ming quickly asked, “She’s still alive? Is there anyone else besides her?”

 

The doctor nodded. “There are others who are alive.”

 

Shui Ming didn’t look happy at this news—his face actually darkened.

 

He looked at Huo Yanji. “Sir, Ah Qin was in the second-to-last vehicle. If that car fell down here, our whole convoy might not have survived.”

 

Huo Yanji clearly expected this; his expression didn’t change at all.

 

“Speak plainly.”

 

Shui Ming hesitated, then gritted his teeth. “We had fourteen vehicles in total. Ten were left by Adjutant Leon. Not only were the drivers switched out, but we also encountered an explosion on the road. That can’t be a coincidence.”

 

Huo Yanji shot him a cold glance. “Are you accusing General Huo Jiangmian of trying to murder me?”

 

Shui Ming fell silent.

 

It was entirely possible: the ambiguous list, General Huo Jiangmian’s obsession with the Governor, and the fact that he’d known the Governor’s location for a long time but hadn’t wiped him out—choosing instead to keep tormenting his enemy…

 

From an outsider’s perspective, Bo Qing’s fate years ago was certainly tragic, but in the past decade, weren’t the boys tortured to death by the Governor just as pitiful?

 

A decade ago, that ruthless rebel leader didn’t have any penchant for preying on young boys. It’s highly likely that after being tormented by General Huo Jiangmian, rendered powerless to resist, he began to take pleasure in tormenting those weaker than himself—just to maintain his own precarious sense of dignity.

 

Is General Huo Jiangmian still the same person he once was?

 

Is the Governor the only one he wishes to take revenge on?

 

Ran Zhen didn’t dare make a sound, trying to blend into the background.

 

“Take us to where Ah Qin is,” Huo Yanji said to the doctor, then strode off, leaving behind a cold warning: “Never make pointless assumptions without evidence.”

 

Shui Ming pressed his lips together. “Understood.”

 

Huo Yanji’s gaze was distant; this scene was reminiscent of seventeen years ago.

 

Back then, he’d also fallen from a great height, his leg badly injured. At that time, Huo Jiangmian would say, “I could die for Bo Qing, and I could die for my brother too.”

 

But now, it seemed everything had changed.

 

They soon reached the slope where Ah Qin had fallen. Scattered across the ground were more than a dozen bodies—community residents—and two unconscious soldiers.

 

At times like this, the absurdly higher survival rate of deviants compared to ordinary people truly stands out.

 

Ah Qin was lucky: several bodies beneath her had cushioned her fall.

 

“Ran Zhen, collect any useful supplies.”

 

After saying this, Huo Yanji abruptly called out, “Shui Ming.”

 

Ran Zhen thought Shui Ming was being sent to help the wounded, but when he glanced back, he saw Shui Ming suddenly attack the doctor who’d led them there—tearing him apart like paper, giving no chance to fight back.

 

Ran Zhen covered his mouth in shock.

 

The severed limbs, still covered by clothing, writhed as if each had a mind of its own. Soon, they began to curl up and liquefy, shifting back and forth between liquid and tentacle forms.

 

—The doctor had been dead for some time. A humanoid contaminant had digested his body, taken his form, and tried to lure nearby humans into bringing it to a more densely populated area.

 

Shui Ming kicked the remains into a deeper crevice, then turned to check the bodies on the ground and wake any survivors.

 

Still, there was no sign of Sang Jue—whether to feel relieved or worried was uncertain.

 

Sang Jue stood surrounded by corpses—mostly community residents he’d met before. He didn’t see Colin, who had been in the same vehicle.

 

Earlier, after switching to Colin’s car, Colin had pressed him so persistently that Sang Jue had reluctantly added him to his “friends” list… hopefully he hadn’t died.

 

It was so cold.

 

Sang Jue shivered, but not from the chill—it was the call from deep underground that unsettled him.

 

It wasn’t a sound any human or creature could make, but something more bizarre and powerful… ancient, profound, terrifying, immense…

 

What was it?

 

Sang Jue didn’t know, and he didn’t want to go down.

 

He wanted to find Huo Yanji.

 

Noticing what looked like a flashlight in a fallen soldier’s backpack, Sang Jue walked over, but before he could pick it up, a filthy hand suddenly grabbed his slender wrist.

 

A dying voice pleaded, “Help… help me…”

 

It was the first time anyone had asked Sang Jue for help.

 

But he was powerless.

 

He watched quietly, softly counting down: “Five, four, three… two, one.”

 

The grip on his wrist slackened, the hand fell to the ground, and the soldier stopped breathing.

 

He looked so young—barely in his twenties.

 

Had he lived a century earlier, he’d be at university, carefree and innocent.

 

Suddenly, Sang Jue understood a little of what Uncle Bao Cang had said—how he envied every life born before the collapse.

 

Out of the corner of his eye, a figure appeared at the cave entrance to the right: neither male nor female, no skin or flesh, its entire body made of strange, flowing liquid.

 

It seemed to sense something and froze.

 

Though it had no eyes, Sang Jue knew it was looking at him.

 

“Don’t eat them,” Sang Jue said seriously. “If you do, I’ll kill you.”

 

As if it understood—and was frightened—the humanoid creature actually retreated.

 

Sang Jue picked up the flashlight and followed the path it had come from—there was only one way forward.

 

The cave walls were studded with thick tentacles, most of them dormant, their tips occasionally swaying.

 

Sang Jue couldn’t sense their roots… they went so deep.

 

The air was growing thin. Every form he could shift into needed oxygen, but he couldn’t afford to stay put.

 

Everyone he’d seen so far was dead; his own injuries were the lightest.

 

If he waited here, he might never see Ji Ji again. He had to find out if Ji Ji was still alive.

 

No matter how hard he sniffed, he couldn’t catch a trace of that familiar scent.

 

Sang Jue pressed his lips together and continued forward, flashlight in hand.

 

Unlike what Huo Yanji had said about tentacles attacking strong light, even when illuminated by the flashlight, the huge tentacles only slowly stirred, curling their tips, showing no sign of aggression toward him.

 

Sang Jue just found it strange.

 

Why did neither the tentacles nor the humanoid creatures in the rift want to contaminate him?

 

He walked for who knows how long—long enough for the wounds on his hands to start healing—yet still hadn’t reached the end of the cave.

 

Sang Jue frowned at his healing hand. “You should heal slower. If Ji Ji finds everyone dead and only me unscathed, he’ll start doubting I’m human again.”

 

Not far ahead, the humanoid creature he’d seen earlier flashed by.

 

Suddenly, Sang Jue had a flash of insight, recalling what Huo Yanji had said: the goal of these humanoid creatures is to digest corpses, then take on human form and infiltrate groups to cause mass contamination.

 

If he followed it—without scaring it off—he was sure to find other survivors!

 

The little dragon sprouted his tail, barbs hooked behind him, thinking with delight: I really am the cleverest.

 

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