Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 102

Discovering Yun Yongzhou’s other identity wasn’t the real focus of Wei Huan’s thoughts.

For so many years, the Rebels organization had remained hidden in the shadows. Unmasking themselves at this critical moment before the election—this wasn’t just about dragging Yun Ting down from power.

From the very beginning, they’d known Yun Ting was merely one player in the power struggle, and a visible one at that. Compared to him, the opposing force was far more secretive and deeply buried.

“You waited this long to reveal everything right before the election,” Wei Huan said to Yun Yongzhou, “because you were waiting for the force behind Yun Ting to reveal itself.”

Yun Yongzhou didn’t deny it. He knew Wei Huan would figure it out.

“Exactly. No matter how cautious a schemer may be, once victory is within reach, they can’t help but gloat. He thought he was the fisherman watching the clam and the snipe fight—Rebels and Yun Ting tearing each other apart—so he came to reel in the net.”

A faint smile lifted the corners of his lips.

Wei Huan drew in a deep breath. Yun Yongzhou really was even more calculating than he’d imagined. Even though he’d had a similar thought, he wouldn’t have been able to pull it off like Yun Yongzhou did. But with the “clam and snipe” gambit laid down, he could now clearly identify where the other faction lay.

He just didn’t want to believe it.

Wei Huan let out a bitter laugh.

“Never thought… after all the digging, the one secretly vying with Yun Ting for power turned out to be Shanhai—who’s been neutral for hundreds of years.”

Yun Yongzhou nodded. “It’s contradictory. Unexpected, yet not surprising.”

Back when Shanhai chose a side during the election—claiming to “protect protesters” and fully breaking from the government army—Wei Huan had already understood.

Blinded by greed, Shanhai made its move too hastily. If it hadn’t been for their belief that victory was at hand, the brilliant mastermind behind it all would have realized—Yun Ting was doomed to fall anyway. Once a new ruling party took over, there would’ve been no need to suppress the protesters. Shanhai never had to get involved.

But they had slipped up.

“The conflict between Shanhai and the government army has always existed,” Yun Yongzhou said calmly. “Even if this had happened earlier, I wouldn’t have been certain—only thought it was a difference in ideology. But the timing… it’s too convenient, too clumsy. The only explanation is that the one behind it all just couldn’t hold back anymore.”

The appearance of the Shanhai military was a blatant move to gain public support—and to pave the way for replacing the Demon Domain Federation. After all, with Shanhai’s prestige and standing, winning the people’s favor wouldn’t be hard. They did everything perfectly, just for a proper, righteous banner to wave.

That thought sparked something in Wei Huan’s mind. He furrowed his brow and looked at Yun Yongzhou.

“Could it be… the demon puppets too…”

Yun Yongzhou’s expression froze, and he sneered.

“What a massive game of chess.”

Truly a massive one.

Yun Ting had only allowed the demon puppet project to proceed. The real executor appeared to be the radical leader Song Chengkang—but he was officially declared dead. There had always been someone backing him. But Wei Huan had never imagined—that backer was Shanhai.

They created the demon puppets. Used them to attack both the human and demon worlds. They let Yun Ting believe he could use that chaos to justify military colonization. And just when his ambition had blinded him, Shanhai emerged under the name of justice and earned a standing ovation.

All along, they had been caught in a chain trap.

“I suspected long ago there was a traitor inside Shanhai,” Yun Yongzhou said. “But you have to understand—whoever he is, every move he made was beyond reproach. Even now, with Shanhai openly stepping forward, the entire military and student body feel proud—feel they’re doing something righteous. That’s the scariest part.”

Those words were like a bucket of cold water dumped over Wei Huan’s head.

“You’re right,” Wei Huan said, gripping the swing ropes. “I still have to pretend I don’t know. Otherwise, it’s like handing my own head over, walking straight into the barrel of a gun.” He lowered his eyes, thinking aloud. “But there are too many suspicious things. Starting with my identity— It’s like he deliberately watched me come back, watched me piece together everything that belonged to me. Why? That’s just weird. Shouldn’t he have wanted me dead? He shifted all the blame for the demon-slaying clan’s massacre onto the Nine Phoenix clan years ago, just so the demon-slayers would come after us for revenge. So now, why…”

Yun Yongzhou paused in thought. “There are still a lot of unanswered questions about your death—starting with the so-called evidence, and the motive behind framing and killing you.”

“Right. Compared to power, I was just a mere demon. So why me, specifically? What benefit could he possibly gain from killing me…” Wei Huan fell into deep confusion. Yun Yongzhou walked over and took his hand, gently rubbing it. “At least now, we’re no longer in a situation where the enemy hides in the shadows and we’re in the light.”

Wei Huan looked up at him and suddenly remembered something Jing Yun’s mother had said: He had to find evidence that could prove his innocence. Without it, they were just ramming an egg against a stone.

He gripped Yun Yongzhou’s hand. “I need to go home.”

The two of them headed together to Beiji Tiangui. From the street, they walked back to the Nine Phoenix residence. Along the way, they saw many demons still out protesting.

Yun Ting’s downfall had caused them to completely lose faith in the entire Demon Federation system. In their eyes, replacing him with a younger politician was just superficial. What they wanted was to cut the poison from the bone—completely eradicate the corrupt system.

And there weren’t many choices in front of them. Shanhai, which had always strived for peace in the demon domain, seemed like the most fitting option. Some protesters even carried Shanhai’s school flag, chanting the school motto:

From destruction comes creation—benevolence is invincible.

So ironic.

Wei Huan loved his alma mater more than anyone—loved that vast and free land. Which was exactly why he, more than anyone, couldn’t allow Shanhai to become a pawn in someone’s game of power, reduced to a symbol of conspiracy. He clenched his fists and silently walked past the oblivious protestors until he reached the door of his own home.

Yun Yongzhou knew how cruel this was. He had stayed silent for a long time precisely because he understood what Shanhai meant to Wei Huan. But he had no other choice.

Wei Huan, acting relaxed, said to him, “Sigh, all the ancestors were too competent—my house is way too big. It’s going to be hard to search. Let’s split up. You take the west wing, I’ll take the east. Keep the telepathy link open, alright?”

“Alright.” 

Yun Yongzhou raised a hand to pat his head, but Wei Huan grabbed it, pressed it to his lips with a smooch, then gave his hand a swing—and, like a sneak attack, kissed Yun Yongzhou on the corner of his lips. “Thanks.”

Yun Yongzhou didn’t like hearing these kinds of things. 

Just as a hint of displeasure was about to appear on his face, Wei Huan shut it down with one line: “Little Nine Phoenix has nothing to repay you with—except his whole self.”

Really—there was no dealing with him.

After separating from Yun Yongzhou, Wei Huan thought for a moment and decided to head to his father’s study first. His father, though a soldier, had loved reading since he was young. In his spare time, he liked practicing calligraphy—his handwriting was excellent. Wei Huan went upstairs, turned left, and walked to the very end of the corridor. He pushed open the long-sealed door.

The moment it opened, the swirling dust was lit up by sunlight, like tiny fluttering butterflies. Wei Huan waved his hand, then stepped inside. The study’s furnishings were just as he remembered.

Suddenly, Yun Yongzhou’s voice came through their telepathic link: [I can actually open the seal in your house.]

[What do you mean?] Wei Huan asked.

Yun Yongzhou continued: [I’m in your family’s garden. There’s a storage room here with a seal over it—on the paper talisman is your Nine Phoenix clan’s crest and demon mark.
At first I thought I couldn’t open it, but when I tried, it just… came right off.]

Wei Huan was surprised too. He walked into the room and opened a window, revealing part of the garden—but for now, Yun Yongzhou wasn’t in view.

He thought for a moment, then raised his hand to touch the golden dot at the center of his forehead.

[Maybe it’s because of the blood contract—we’re connected by blood now.] He lowered his hand and gripped the folded horn at his chest. [And now that my Nine Phoenix demon power has mostly recovered, if it were the last time you tried, maybe you wouldn’t have been able to tear it off.]

[Yeah, last time when I came in to help clean, your family’s seals hurt me quite a few times.]

Wei Huan couldn’t hold back his laughter. Yun Yongzhou sounded like a bullied little wife—way too cute.

[Don’t worry. You can go ahead and explore— Wei Little Nine’s got your back.]

He walked over to the desk. On it sat a black fountain pen, with a deep blue nine-spiral wind pattern engraved on the cap.

The gates of memory creaked open.

He remembered wanting this pen as a child, but his father had refused, saying it was a gift from his mother’s friend and that he should go ask her for it. Like a ball kicked down the line, Wei Huan had gone to his mother. But she’d looked puzzled, saying, “A gift for me? I don’t even remember that. Your father’s always used it—I’ve never even touched it. You’d better ask him.”

So in the end, the matter was dropped. But children’s interests come and go quickly. Before long, he had new fascinations. A pen was nothing—he’d long forgotten about it.

He picked up the pen, and to his surprise, the nine-spiral pattern began to glow.

Was it some kind of reaction?

Why hadn’t it reacted when his father used it?

Wei Huan found it strange. Something in his blood felt as if it had been awakened, resonating with the wind pattern. He looked closely at it under the light.

It didn’t quite match his father’s, nor his own.

Although the three of them all bore the Nine Phoenix clan’s crest, the markings passed down had subtle variations on each descendant. His father’s and his own were fairly similar. His mother’s were softer—and due to her split-soul and multi-form abilities, the tips of her markings always had a branching structure.

So this pen really did belong to his mother. No wonder it never glowed when his father held it.

Just as he was about to put it down, a sudden doubt flashed through his mind. He remembered what he’d just told Yun Yongzhou—because of their blood pact, Yun Yongzhou was able to tear down the Nine Phoenix seal.

His eyes fell on the pen again. He and his mother shared blood even more directly. Part of her blood ran through him. What his father couldn’t awaken, he might be able to.

So what if this blue glow… meant something?

Just as Wei Huan tried to sense whether the pen held a deeper secret— he heard Yun Yongzhou’s voice again through the telepathic link.

[Come to the garden quickly—I found a notebook. Looks like it belonged to your father.]