Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 106

The upheaved ground was like a massive rug, rolling up buildings and structures and covering the sky. At the same time, the western side began to surge inward as well. The two sides of ground closed in on each other, the sky narrowing—like a door about to slam shut.

“This is bad. They’re trying to trap us in here! Go up, now!” Wei Huan realized what was happening and flew upward desperately, trying to escape the collapsing darkness. In his ears were the sounds of buildings crumbling and Yun Yongzhou’s wings slicing the air. The opening above grew smaller and smaller, the light dimmer and dimmer. Just as Wei Huan rushed upward, a streak of miasma seeped from the ground and struck one of his wings.

A searing pain hit him instantly. One of Wei Huan’s wings lost function, throwing him off balance as he spiraled downward—like a leaf falling in late autumn.

Hearing Wei Huan cry out, Yun Yongzhou stopped midair and looked down. Here, above and below were both covered in ground and buildings, like an inverted world. Wei Huan reacted quickly, summoning a wind sword to stab into a nearby building’s window. The sword instantly turned into a rope and wrapped around a pillar inside, suspending him midair.

“Don’t worry about me—go! There’s no time!” he shouted.

Yun Yongzhou looked up—the last sliver of sky reflected in his amber eyes. The door to the heavens was about to shut.

“Go!!”

Seeing Yun Yongzhou flying toward him, with the looming darkness falling behind him, Wei Huan felt he’d gone mad. He’d had a chance to escape—he was that close.

“Why did you come back!” Wei Huan shouted emotionally. “I told you I’m fine! I’ll find a way out!”

Yun Yongzhou hovered before him, his face cold, calmly lifting Wei Huan’s arm over his own shoulder. His tone was steady, as if nothing life-threatening had happened. “What way? Staying here is a dead end.”

That only made Wei Huan angrier. “If you know it’s a dead end, why’d you come back?! Trying to die early or something?!”

“Save your strength.” Yun Yongzhou didn’t answer further. He didn’t want to expose what he was really feeling.

When Wei Huan’s wing was struck and he fell, Yun Yongzhou’s heart plunged into an abyss. It had taken everything in him not to shout Wei Huan’s name.

It was strange—they weren’t even that close.

This place was more terrifying than imagined. The so-called Deathless City was beneath their feet. The surrounding earth had uprooted entirely, curling inward like a monstrous carnivorous flower, sealing shut with no way out. Now that they were trapped inside, Yun Yongzhou simply supported Wei Huan and flew down to the ground. Darkness was everywhere, but around Yun Yongzhou floated countless tiny glowing motes—like fireflies, giving off a gentle light.

Wei Huan was still annoyed, but no matter what, Yun Yongzhou had stayed behind because of him—whether out of rare compassion or duty as a member of the Shanhai Combat Unit. Either way, he was here, by his side. That quiet happiness now began to bubble up.

“So… what do we do now?” As they landed, Wei Huan’s arm was still over Yun Yongzhou’s shoulder. Maybe it was just in his head, but where his wrist was held felt warm. He started feeling awkward. Worse, it made him look too weak, so he tried to pull his arm back. But he accidentally tugged on his wounded wing, wincing from the sharp pain.

Yun Yongzhou glanced at him but said nothing. He scanned the area—something didn’t feel right.

Seeing Yun Yongzhou ignoring him, Wei Huan wrapped the tip of his wing with a strip of wind silk and began talking on his own, “Do you know the legend of Deathless City? It used to be one of the most terrifying places in the demon realm. The demons there looked like humans, but their skin was pitch-black. They were the longest-living demons in the realm, nearly impossible to kill.”

He glanced sideways at Yun Yongzhou as he spoke, “Of course, that’s all written in the textbooks, so I don’t need to tell you. But an old man who used to live next door told me there’s a story behind how the Deathless City became the only unnamed forbidden zone in the demon realm.”

Yun Yongzhou might have a cold heart and colder face, but he loved hearing stories and gossip—Wei Huan knew that. But still, he deliberately kept him hanging. “Want to hear it? Guess what kind of story it is.”

Yun Yongzhou simply walked away, the firefly-like lights floating around him, and tossed back coldly, “I don’t want to hear it.”

Yeah right, like you don’t. Wei Huan grumbled in his head but still followed close behind.

“Don’t want to hear it? Well, I want to tell it, is that so wrong? I’ll make it short. The Undying people who lived here were drafted by force by the ruling powers of the time because of their unique, nearly unkillable constitution. Supposedly, it didn’t matter if they were old or young—they were all conscripted.”

“They were just ordinary folks, living peacefully in their little city. But overnight, they became slaves of war—maimed and wounded but unable to die. That conscription policy lasted three years… until the Deathless City rose up and rebelled.”

Wei Huan spoke with vivid emotion, his story deeply moving. Yun Yongzhou unconsciously glanced over at him, only to see Wei Huan sigh and shake his head. “It’s just a pity… the Undying People were already rare to begin with, and the war wiped out most of their population. So in the end, they still lost. The rulers, afraid this kind of thing might flare up again, gave the order to bury the entire city alive—sealed the remaining tens of thousands of Undying People underground. Then they buried the white bones of the Four Great Ferocious Beasts in the north, south, east, and west, sealing the city completely. That’s how the story goes, anyway. Maybe it really did happen like that. Otherwise, how could a perfectly fine city just vanish overnight?”

Yun Yongzhou seemed to recall something. “Last week, a student was on assignment. There was some disturbance when a real estate developer was digging a foundation, and many little demon beasts died under mysterious circumstances. They went to investigate the cause.”

Wei Huan reacted quickly, clenching his right fist and smacking it into his left palm with a loud smack. “Don’t tell me—when they were digging, they damaged the seal on Deathless City?”

That guess made them both feel as if they’d fallen into an ice pit. If that were true, then this place was indeed extremely dangerous.

Yun Yongzhou stayed composed. “No matter what, we need to get out quickly.”

The surrounding earth was packed tightly, no gaps at all, and the upside-down skyscrapers above them were still swaying, looking like they might collapse at any moment. Yun Yongzhou opened his palm, channeling a dazzling light that shot forward, stretching and expanding until it became a several-meter-long cone of pure energy—an intense light drill—thrusting toward the distant earth wall.

But the wall was far tougher than expected. His light drill barely pierced the surface. Yun Yongzhou pushed harder with a forceful thrust from his palm—but the light drill suddenly shattered like a glass pillar smashing into steel, scattering into blinding fragments.

Wei Huan was shocked. Yun Yongzhou’s light drill was famously powerful—nearly unstoppable—yet it couldn’t pierce this wall. “Something’s off. Let me try.” As he spoke, he raised both arms, and in that moment two massive blue wind pillars, four meters long and two meters thick, formed in the air, their outer ends razor-sharp.

With a motion, Wei Huan sent the wind pillars flying outward, slamming hard into the east and west walls. The shock shook the buildings above so violently that chunks fell. Yun Yongzhou pulled Wei Huan aside just in time to avoid being crushed, and the buildings hit the spot where they had just stood, kicking up clouds of debris.

Even so, the earth walls remained unbroken.

“Strange,” Wei Huan frowned. “Could it be because of the seal? Let me try again—”

Before he could continue, the ground beneath them began to quake violently. Wei Huan reacted instantly, spreading his wings and taking to the air. Yun Yongzhou followed. As the quake intensified, the structures above began to collapse one after another. Wei Huan dodged and weaved through the falling rubble, until suddenly he shouted, “Yun Yongzhou! Look at the ground!”

Hovering in midair, Yun Yongzhou saw it: just like before, the ground was splitting open again, releasing black miasma. The miasma was highly corrosive—if it filled the space, they’d both be doomed.

“I’ll seal it with a barrier. Don’t move,” Yun Yongzhou said. He began channeling energy in the darkness. His eyes turned a brilliant golden, and the demon mark on his left brow lit up with searing red flame. In the next moment, the ground ignited in roaring fire. The flames spread rapidly, forming a fire barrier that sealed the rift completely.

“It seems to be working…” Wei Huan stared at the halted black miasma, but within the flames he thought he saw something else moving. “What’s that? It’s moving.”

Yun Yongzhou focused—and sure enough, within the deep cracks created by the quake, something black was crawling out. One after another, the figures emerged, faster and faster—spreading like a swarm of monstrous insects.

Their minds flashed to the story they’d just discussed.

“Could it be…”

Countless razor-sharp blades of light appeared around Yun Yongzhou. “The Undying People.”

These black humanoid creatures were faster than expected and seemed unafraid of fire. After crawling out of the crevices, they stood upright—silhouettes rising in the midst of flames, a hellish and nightmarish scene.

Their bodies were pitch black like ink, with eyes that lacked irises—only stark whites. They came in all shapes and sizes, even children, their tattered clothes nearly rotted away, their bodies covered in dirt. They staggered forward, exuding thick purple-black miasma—grotesque and terrifying.

“Good thing they can’t fly—otherwise, we’d be done for,” Wei Huan exhaled in relief and flew a bit higher. But just as he finished speaking, wings suddenly sprouted from the backs of the standing Undying—no feathers, just dark, flesh-covered flaps—and they took flight en masse. The sight was overwhelming.

That mouth of his…

Yun Yongzhou said coolly, “You should stop talking.”

“How was I supposed to know?” Wei Huan replied, as if whining, “Don’t scold me now. Let’s just fight first.”

His inky black wings flapped fiercely, sending countless blue wind blades flying outward in a burst. The blades pierced through the Undying People’s bodies—but their regeneration was terrifying. Wounds healed within seconds, as if nothing had happened.

“This is insane. They can’t be hurt at all.” As more Undying People drew closer, the miasma surged forward. Wei Huan retreated slightly, pressing his back against Yun Yongzhou’s. He tilted his head and said, “Cut off their wings—just get them down first.”

With that, his wind blades morphed into massive wind swords midair and slashed at the Undying People’s wings. Those struck fell rapidly—but before they hit the ground, the severed wings reattached.

That horrifying regeneration finally taught Wei Huan what it meant to be truly undying.

The Undying People swarmed up, surrounding them, a black tide of bodies lunging again and again. One latched onto Wei Huan’s leg, another bit into his shoulder. Blood gushed out immediately, and the miasma on their bodies surged, ready to invade his wounds—until Yun Yongzhou’s light blades slashed through and saved him.

“Thank you.” Wei Huan pressed a hand to his injured shoulder and used his other hand to channel energy.

Blue and golden demonic light flashed without pause, continuously slashing down the black monsters. But they were still vastly outnumbered, and their safe zone was shrinking fast—soon the defensive line would be broken.

“Activate a defensive barrier.”

Wei Huan suddenly heard Yun Yongzhou speak and was momentarily caught off guard. “What?”

Yun Yongzhou didn’t explain—he acted directly. A pale golden defensive barrier suddenly formed around Wei Huan, like a thin silken cocoon enclosing him.

“Hey! Yun Yongzhou, what are you doing?!”

The black Undying People drew closer, and the miasma spread. Yun Yongzhou erupted with an incredible number of light blades, shredding the Undying into pieces, but the miasma still invaded his body, staining the gray battle-uniform he wore.

“Let me out! You’ll get corroded!” Wei Huan tried to break the barrier from inside. His wound was still bleeding, and he couldn’t break through in time. He spotted new Undying People appearing behind Yun Yongzhou and shouted, “Yun Yongzhou! Behind you!”

The light blades were faster than anything—sheets of golden brilliance shredded the black monsters again. Though they could regenerate, the scattered pieces took longer to reform into whole bodies. They had, at least, won themselves a brief moment to breathe.

“You activate a barrier too!”

Yun Yongzhou looked at Wei Huan and waved his hand, pushing the golden barrier over toward the earth wall. Then he flew over himself, piercing the thin golden light and entering the barrier. But the next moment, his brow furrowed, and his body went limp—he staggered forward.

“Are you okay?!” Wei Huan immediately reached out with both arms to catch him, and just like that, they fell into an unexpected embrace. They were usually roughhousing or maybe grabbing each other’s arms, brushing hands at most—but this kind of closeness was unfamiliar. His shoulder wound hadn’t yet healed, and Yun Yongzhou’s impact reignited the pain. Wei Huan clenched his teeth, chest tightening.

Yun Yongzhou’s body temperature was always higher than other demons’. In winter missions, Wei Huan loved sticking close to him for warmth. Now Yun Yongzhou’s body was pressed to his chest, his chin resting in the crook of Wei Huan’s shoulder—it was so close, Wei Huan felt like he was burning all over.

“Yun Yongzhou, you…” Wei Huan cautiously raised his arm, just about to return the embrace, when he caught sight of the purple-black miasma on Yun Yongzhou’s back. “Your back!”

Yun Yongzhou weakly lifted his head, gripped Wei Huan’s arm, and shook his head with a frown. He struggled over to the wall and sat down.

“Don’t move. I brought medicine—I’ll treat you.” Wei Huan half-knelt in front of him, trying to undo the buttons on Yun Yongzhou’s uniform. But when he saw the dark blood trickling from the corner of Yun Yongzhou’s mouth, his hands began to tremble for some reason. He lowered his eyes and stared at the collar button on Yun Yongzhou’s neck. “Does it hurt…?”

What kind of question was that? The miasma was highly toxic—his wings had only been grazed and it already hurt like h*ll. Yun Yongzhou’s entire back had been hit.

That must hurt unimaginably.

The more he thought about it, the more his hands trembled. He finally managed to undo the first button when Yun Yongzhou suddenly gripped his hand. Startled, Wei Huan looked up—normally so bold and fearless, like a little tyrant of the sky, now he looked just like a startled rabbit.

“Don’t worry about me,” Yun Yongzhou forced his voice to sound calm. “It’s just a surface wound—it’ll heal on its own.” He released Wei Huan’s hand and let his own arm fall. Wei Huan knew it wasn’t fatal, but he couldn’t bear to see Yun Yongzhou in pain. He turned his face away and rubbed his own hand, red from Yun Yongzhou’s grip. “I’ll try contacting the academy. These things are too tough—we need backup.”

Yun Yongzhou didn’t respond. He had a strong feeling that help wouldn’t come. His sixth sense was screaming, but he didn’t want to crush Wei Huan’s hope, so he stayed silent. Sure enough, Wei Huan tried everything—none of it worked. The outer zone was sealed. Even signal spells failed.

Were they really going to die here?

Wei Huan pulled out a small bottle of painkillers and gave one to Yun Yongzhou, then sat down across from him. He quietly summoned wind energy and guided it gently into Yun Yongzhou’s body through his uniform, letting the soft blue breeze spread and dispel the miasma as much as possible.

“Don’t worry—we’ll get out of here,” Wei Huan said cheerfully, a tone that clashed starkly with the darkness of the Deathless City. “You were amazing just now. Those Undying you shredded still haven’t fully regenerated. You really live up to the title of Shanhai’s number one.”

Yun Yongzhou said nothing, staring at the monsters outside the barrier—those twisted, pieced-together limbs that looked like malformed puppets.

“At worst, we just wait here in the barrier. Maybe Yang Sheng’s already back at the academy. He’s probably bringing reinforcements to rescue us as we speak.” Wei Huan smiled, sharp little fangs peeking from the corners of his lips. The demonic markings on his face had faded, leaving just three faint blue streaks. His eyes, however, remained a clear, crystalline blue—like a sky they couldn’t see right now.

Yun Yongzhou knew they couldn’t escape. The more hope Wei Huan voiced, the more precisely Yun Yongzhou could calculate their death. The Undying People they saw earlier were clearly just a portion. Once the full horde came out, they’d be consumed by miasma and ripped apart. No matter how powerful their skills, they were still just insects before immortality and century-old hatred.

“It’s so cold in here,” Wei Huan said, his wounds aching again as the scent of blood filled the barrier. He scooted closer to Yun Yongzhou. “Let me lean on you—you’re warm.”

Surprisingly, Yun Yongzhou didn’t move away.

A wicked thought flashed in Wei Huan’s mind. Being hurt and trapped didn’t seem so bad—at least Yun Yongzhou wouldn’t so easily push him away. Neither of them could leave. They could only be confined together like this in a small, closed barrier.

Just the two of them.

Even though Wei Huan was normally the most cheerful of them all, the one who seemed unstoppable in life—at this moment, he thought: His whole family was already gone. He was the only one left. If not for the sake of bringing honor to the Nine Phoenix Clan, he might’ve left this world long ago. If—just if—he really did die here, with Yun Yongzhou by his side… maybe that wouldn’t be the worst ending.

Maybe it would even be a kind of fulfillment.

He couldn’t help but glance toward Yun Yongzhou.

No. That thought was quickly dismissed. It was true—he had nothing. No parents, no family, just himself. But Yun Yongzhou was different. He was the only white-winged Golden Crow in the demon realm, the pride of the Golden Crow clan. His future was bright. He couldn’t die here with him in some forgotten place where no one would ever know.

Swallowing his sorrow, he forced a smile again. “It doesn’t hurt as much now, right? We’ll definitely get out. In a bit, we’ll come up with a plan—divide the work. After all, we’re the top two combat powers of the entire Battle Force.”

But Yun Yongzhou suddenly let out a bitter laugh and said coldly, “Where does your confidence even come from?”

Wei Huan froze. It felt like something slammed hard into his chest—a dull pain.

He didn’t reply further. It really was cold in here; even his hands were freezing. He scooted closer to Yun Yongzhou, holding his wound, and said softly, something completely different from before: “Little Golden Crow, give me a bit of your light.”

Yun Yongzhou looked confused—this request was bizarre and out of nowhere.

When he didn’t respond, Wei Huan just kept asking, like a spoiled child, his voice soft and pleading. Yun Yongzhou couldn’t figure out what Wei Huan was really thinking, but he couldn’t bring himself to refuse. He even regretted interrupting so harshly earlier. Lowering his eyes, he opened his blood- and dirt-stained palm, and a faint light emerged from it, glowing softly in this small, transparent golden barrier-world.

Wei Huan leaned his head against the wall like a long-awaited wish had been fulfilled, smiling happily.

“Yun Yongzhou, I like your light.”

The sudden confession pierced through Yun Yongzhou’s cold, deathly chest, letting light pour in—warm, wind-like light.

“Even though it’s so dark here, I have my sun.” He reached out a finger to cup the tiny glow. “As long as there’s light, I feel like everything will be okay.” He looked at Yun Yongzhou with those clear, faintly blue eyes, smiling firmly. “So I’m not afraid.”

Yun Yongzhou didn’t know what to say. He simply looked at Wei Huan, at the soft smile in the darkness.

Always selfish, always pessimistic—this was the first time in his life he truly felt hope.

“This is the first time we’re officially wearing these uniforms on a mission,” Wei Huan said with a laugh, spreading his arms. When he looked up, he saw Yun Yongzhou watching him.

The moment their eyes met, a spark went off in his chest—like fireworks crackling to life.

“Why are you looking at me…” Wei Huan blinked, flustered.

Yun Yongzhou leaned against the wall and said quietly, “It’s nothing. I just remembered what you said the day we got these uniforms.”

Wei Huan blinked. “What did I say…”

And suddenly, a memory flashed in his mind.

Do we not have clothes? We shall share robes and march together.

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