Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 104

“The ancestral tomb?” Yang Sheng’s expression grew grave. “Without him, none of us can pass through the barrier—it’s impossible. Why did he go alone? Was he okay before we arrived?”

Yun Yongzhou said, “Nothing unusual—just a little low in spirits because of something.”

Hearing this, Qing He spoke up from the side, “He’s been acting a bit strange since our trip to Wuqi. When we were sending Jing Yun home, he seemed really upset. Could it be that Shahua did something to him?”

“Right,” Yang Ling added, “That witch was always saying weird things to Brother Huanhuan.”

Hearing this, Yun Yongzhou remembered what Wei Huan had told him after returning—about the soul-summoning sacrifice.

Yan Shanyue calmly analyzed, “Could it be related to the sacrifice?”

Yun Yongzhou didn’t reply. He felt foolish—no matter how calm and rational he was usually, the moment something involved Wei Huan, he always lost composure.

What exactly had Wei Huan sacrificed? Could he have been wrong—had Wei Huan sacrificed his original self?

“I’ll try to get inside.” For the first time, Yun Yongzhou tried to awaken the spiritual power within him that didn’t belong to him. Though he had used Nine Phoenix’s power before to break their seals, he had never truly tried to channel it.

Channeling it was difficult and rough. Unsurprisingly so—Wei Huan’s power hadn’t fully returned, and the blood pact could only transmit so much. It was already the limit to break some Nine Phoenix seals. But to enter the Nine Phoenix Ancestral Tomb? That required not only Nine Phoenix’s demonic power but also the secret access command—something he didn’t have.

For the moment, they were at a total impasse.

Yang Sheng tried to comfort them, “Let’s think positively. Wei Huan is the only one who can enter the ancestral tomb. If he doesn’t open the barrier, no one else can get in. It shouldn’t be too dangerous.”

Yan Shanyue nodded. “The only other possible threat is Xie Tianfa—but he’s still locked up in Shanhai, so we should be fine.” She turned to Yun Yongzhou. “You said earlier there was something you wanted to say. What was it?”

Seeing that everyone was here, Yun Yongzhou had no choice but to explain the divination talisman Wei Huan had found. He also openly revealed his hidden identity.

Meanwhile, deep within the Nine Phoenix Ancestral Tomb, guided by the demonic energy, Wei Huan passed through the Feiliu waterfall. Black wings unfurled behind him as he flew over the canyon’s rushing waters to stand before an icy stone coffin at the edge of a broken cliff.

He was like a puppet, pulled forward bit by bit by invisible strings. But his mind was filled with all kinds of voices, tangled and crisscrossing in chaos, the confusion making his chest ache with suffocation.

[Hey, this little Golden Crow always looks like he’s mourning the dead—so why are there still so many pretty girls around him?]

That voice…

[Have you ever liked someone? I’m asking you—what does it feel like?]

It was the voice of his past self—Wei Huan.

[What “budding feelings”! I’m just curious, okay? Can’t a guy be curious?]

[Yun Yongzhou! Are you scared of me? If not, why are you hiding from me?]

[No, not this one. She’s not good-looking and has no charm. Don’t like her.]

[I think I might… really be a little moved.]

They were all his own voice. Every word was his. Yet he couldn’t remember when he had ever said these things.

Wei Huan floated silently in the air before his own tomb, eyes fixed on the name carved into the stone tablet. The two characters were carved with perfect precision, each stroke fitting neatly within its lines—completely opposite from his reckless, unrestrained life.

Suddenly, a hazy image appeared in his sore, stinging eyes. It was a scene that had surfaced more than once in his fragmented memories. In the light of a desk lamp, his younger self sat at a desk, the point of view slowly drawing closer. He heard himself speaking, as if talking to something.

Looking closer—ah, that little thing bouncing around was the fuzzy furball.

[I put in so much effort—it took over two months to finish this. What if he doesn’t like it?]

The little furball squeaked, and he continued speaking, his tone both bossy and adorable: [Even if he doesn’t like it, he has to. He must like it.]

Hearing that, the furball jumped even higher, as if it were cheering.

[If he doesn’t accept it—no, he definitely will. I’m kind, cute, righteous, handsome, and strong. Aside from not being able to give birth, I have no flaws. Even if he searched the entire demon realm with a spotlight, he wouldn’t find another like me. Am I right or am I right?]

[But if he really doesn’t like it… Forget it. If he doesn’t, I’ll just say I was showing it off—pretend I was being flashy and take it back. Yeah, I won’t say it directly. I’ll say, “Hey, what do you think of this?” and observe his reaction. Adjust on the spot. That’s it. I’m such a genius.]

[Now I just need to find a place to hide it—somewhere only I could find. Where should I hide it…]

Wei Huan closed his eyes, his breathing quickening. The memory surged over him like icy water, making him feel utterly lost.

Where had he hidden it?

What exactly had he gone to such lengths to make, to give?

As if guided by something in the void, Wei Huan reached out and placed his hand on his own tombstone. The Nine Phoenix heart mantra spun in his mind. Blue demonic light glowed from his palm, and a deep rumbling echoed from behind the black stone. His personal ice coffin slowly slid outward. Wei Huan opened his eyes, swept his hand, and the coffin lid flew open.

He had always assumed this ice coffin was empty. Even during his last visit to the ancestral tomb, he’d never once thought to open it.

But it wasn’t empty.

Inside the semi-transparent ice coffin was a small house model—just the right size to hold in both hands. The miniature villa was a translucent blue, with two stories and a beautiful structure. From the outer pillars and roof to the interior furnishings, every detail was exquisitely crafted—just like a real house. It even sat on a foundation. Wei Huan raised his hand, and with his demonic energy, turned the model in midair. On its back was a small, frozen lake—like a piece of blue gemstone. Two trees stood beside it, with a little hammock strung between them.

His heart was struck, hard.

So this… was the little house he’d dreamed of for so many years.

It was his future.

This model had been made using the Wind Shaping Technique—formed from wind freely roaming the skies, condensed by him. To keep the wind from dispersing, he’d poured in as much demonic power as he could to protect it, sealing the entire model in a complete barrier. So much so that even after his own death, the gift remained perfectly preserved, untouched and undisturbed, hidden silently in this tomb for seven years without fading.

Wei Huan furrowed his brows. Deep inside, a current of emotion threatened to surge forth. His gaze unintentionally landed on something—a mark near the base of the villa wall, seemingly covered by a second layer of wind. Wei Huan leaned closer, brushing his finger over it. The bluish haze of wind dispersed like smoke, revealing the mark hidden beneath.

It was a clumsily drawn sun totem.

His nose stung. Tears welled up in his eyes for no reason. A piece missing from his heart, long since dug out, was suddenly filled. The memories flooded in.

He remembered Yun Yongzhou’s class schedule, had calculated when he would pass by, then pretended to casually fly up to the sky above the area between the two colleges—sitting on the wall of Fuyou Academy, legs swinging, loudly calling Yun Yongzhou’s name in front of the students of Yansui Academy.

If he turned around even once, Wei Huan could be happy for a long time.

Even if the look was annoyed—or fed up—as long as there was emotion, Wei Huan would feel joy.

He eagerly looked forward to the flag-raising ceremony at the start of each month. As Fuyou Academy’s flag bearer, he could stand next to Yun Yongzhou, the flag bearer from Yansui Academy, in the grand square between the four colleges—side by side, solemnly raising their academy flags together. He even remembered the time he got injured trying to help someone and had his arm in a sling. The academy wouldn’t let him go up, so he had to stand below, watching someone else stand next to Yun Yongzhou.

But when Yun Yongzhou turned toward the student ranks to salute, their eyes met. He quickly turned away, trying to get a student in front of him to block his injured arm.

Back then, he didn’t even know why he was hiding. He didn’t know why he insisted on raising the flag so badly either. He thought it was just because he was trying to one-up Yun Yongzhou.

That was his only acknowledged rival. Whatever Yun Yongzhou wanted to do, whatever he did—he had to do it too. They had to do it together.

He didn’t want to lose to him.

He wanted to chase the sun—without stopping, not even for a moment.

He still remembered every time he attended integrated classes in the No Speak Building. As long as Yun Yongzhou was also in the class, he would always think of ways to tease him. Yun Yongzhou was withdrawn and preferred sitting in the corner. If he arrived on time, he’d have to sit with Yang Sheng or Buyu. So Wei Huan always arrived right on the dot, claiming he had overslept, and slipped quietly into the classroom—just so he could sit beside Yun Yongzhou.

Even though Yun Yongzhou absolutely hated it, cornered with no way to speak out or change seats, he had no choice.

Wei Huan loved teasing Yun Yongzhou—he drew all kinds of comic strips, mostly childish stuff like Little Nine Phoenix beating up Little Golden Crow. Sometimes when Yun Yongzhou got annoyed, Wei Huan would pretend to be all pitiful, begging for forgiveness. But none of these tactics ever worked—Yun Yongzhou had more patience than anyone.

Only once did it almost succeed. Yun Yongzhou was in poor shape that day and immediately laid his head down to sleep upon entering the room.

Wei Huan, slinging his bag over one shoulder with his usual roguish air, strolled into the classroom and was surprised to see him sleeping. In fact, he hadn’t planned to bother him at all—quite the opposite. He quietly took his seat and imitated Yun Yongzhou, resting his head to the side the same way. But all he could see was the back of Yun Yongzhou’s head.

His hair was a deep brown—unlike his own. It looked soft. Very soft.

With that thought, Wei Huan reached out his hand in the air, his gaze passing between the gaps of his fingers as he quietly watched. Time ticked by. Outside the windows of No Speak Building, the shadowy leaves swayed, casting broken patterns of light onto the desk they leaned against. The classroom was completely silent, and time itself seemed to freeze—suspended in amber.

In that dazed moment, Yun Yongzhou suddenly turned his head—and their faces met. The flood of memory brought back the panic he had felt in that very moment. He hurriedly pulled his hand back, and Yun Yongzhou furrowed his brow and opened his eyes.

The moment those amber pupils met his, Wei Huan nearly stopped breathing.

“What are you doing?”

Still half-asleep, Yun Yongzhou asked instinctively, voice cold as ever. Wei Huan, flustered for some reason, immediately sat up from the desk. “N-nothing! I wasn’t doing anything. Really!”

One half-dreaming, the other panicked—both had broken the rules in that chaotic moment.

That one punishment for breaking a rule in No Speak Building made Wei Huan unwittingly write what would become his own prophetic farewell. It also cast the long-submerged heart of Yun Yongzhou into a patch of fractured light.

Confucius says: Do not speak of ghosts or spirits.

Confucius says: Do not speak of first love.