Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 116

Everyone was awestruck by the scene before them, chills running over their skin. None of them had truly wanted to leave Kunlun Void—no one wanted to watch their alma mater fall. But it had seemed like their only choice.

Yet, just when all hope seemed lost—Nine Phoenix had opened a new path for them.

Seeing this clone army born of sheer will, none of them had any excuse to retreat.

“Let me help too!”

“Me too!”

“Count me in—let’s go!”

One after another, Shanhai students, battle troops, and even government soldiers flew down to help lift the land. The group grew larger and stronger, and that collective will to persist spread wider.

No one truly wanted to leave this land.

At the edge of despair—there’s always a way forward.

Even mayflies can shake mountains.

Wei Huan clenched his teeth, barely holding on. In his fading vision, his father’s face seemed to appear.

And faintly, he saw him smile and raise both hands to lift the land, saying:

“Go on, son. You’ve got this.”

And then—his mother.

His grandfather…

Before his eyes, countless spirits glowing with blue demon energy began to appear—each one had once carried the blood of Nine Phoenix.

Now, in this moment, they stood with Wei Huan, holding up this land together.

This was the eternal destiny of the Nine Phoenix clan—but it was also the light of glory that would never be extinguished.

Wei Huan clenched his teeth. It felt like all the blood in his body was surging upward in reverse. Snatches of encouragement echoed in his ears:

“Keep… going…”

Suddenly, the phoenix totem on his body detached—and on each of Wei Huan’s arms, a glowing red phoenix mark emerged, floating upward. They rose, entering the red-and-blue woven light net, fixing themselves in place—each grid in the net embedded with a single beam of light.

In that instant, the entire net radiated upward, beams of light rippling outward, encircling the city’s border. From beneath Kunlun Void’s foundation, the light surged upward, forming a spherical barrier that wrapped around the entire floating city.

With a thunderous boom, Kunlun Void—suspended in the sky—snapped back into position, erupting in a brilliant shockwave of light.

It worked.

It really worked.

But just as Wei Huan’s body relaxed, utterly drained, a hand suddenly clamped down on the back of his neck.

“You’ve done well.” Bai Xiucheng’s voice drifted in like a ghost. “Now that the phoenix power hasn’t yet dissipated… rest, my child.”

A blinding white light appeared in his hand, like an arrow shooting straight through Wei Huan’s body—hooking out the red flame that had been burning within.

In that moment, Bai Xiucheng’s very soul trembled.

He had waited and schemed all these years for this power. Once, he had revered the phoenix, seen it as the guiding star of his life, longing to become its heir. Even if he couldn’t match it in strength, he told himself—as long as he could lead Shanhai to new heights, as long as he could build a brighter future for the demon realm—he would be worthy to stand beside the phoenix.

He had clung to that belief for years.

But jealousy and imbalance had twisted his heart. He was no longer a devoted follower—but a tamer, desperate to mold a second phoenix.

It wasn’t enough. It was never enough.

In the end, the darkness in his heart overcame the benevolence he once clung to.

Still, he craved the phoenix’s power.

Bai Xiucheng wanted to become the true successor to the phoenix.

Once the flame was torn away, Wei Huan’s already broken body completely collapsed. He felt nothing. He was like a feather with no anchor, drifting downward.

Until a staircase of light caught him.

And in the next instant, countless light blades surged into the sky—merging into a single, massive sword of light that drove straight into Bai Xiucheng’s chest.

“You think finding my true body is enough to kill me?” Bai Xiucheng, holding the stolen phoenix flame, sneered. “Not so simple.” The red flame hovered from his palm and flew into his chest.

“You’re right.” Yun Yongzhou’s voice came the moment the light sword transformed—splitting into countless glowing chains that wrapped around Bai Xiucheng. In a flash, he was engulfed in Golden Crow fire, forming a long, blazing sword of destruction.

On the staircase of light, Wei Huan frowned. He heard Yun Yongzhou’s voice—forced his eyes open and struggled to rise. But his voice was hoarse. He couldn’t even call Yun Yongzhou’s name.

At that moment, Yun Yongzhou’s hands gripped the fire sword. He soared into the air and drove the blade down through Bai Xiucheng’s skull.

And in that instant, he shouted something that shocked everyone: “Yun Yongzhou of Group 7—launching attack!”

The phoenix flame had already embedded itself in Bai Xiucheng’s chest. He showed no fear of the Golden Crow fire, only scoffing at the younger man’s pitiful struggle.

“You’re far too naive…”

But his arrogant smile lasted less than a second.

Because from behind him, another sword—one glowing with icy cold light—plunged down alongside the fire blade.

A voice he never imagined would speak up joined in: “Su Buyu of Group 7—supporting attack.”

The ice sword and fire sword overlapped, unleashing a force unlike anything before. Red and white lights pierced straight down, impaling Bai Xiucheng’s heart—the heart that had just fused with the phoenix flame.

[Bai Xiucheng is almost invincible. If he lives, we’ll never beat him. But there’s one way to kill him.]

Yun Yongzhou remembered the words spoken to him in the illusion, staring into Su Buyu’s eyes.

[I traded my mermaid eye for this secret—if you can trust me, just once.]

[The moment the phoenix flame enters the demon heart is when it’s most vulnerable. If we can combine the two most extreme and incompatible demon forces in existence at that moment, we can trigger the flame’s self-destruct.]

[But don’t tell Ah Huan. We only have one chance. One shot. We cannot fail.]

Bai Xiucheng screamed in agony—entangled in light chains, impaled by twin swords of fire and ice. The phoenix flame within his demon heart erupted, swallowing everything—his greed, his flesh, his soul. Through the flames, Su Buyu’s pale face looked unusually gentle. He glanced at Yun Yongzhou, a faint dimple appearing on his cheek.

Then Yun Yongzhou felt something was wrong.

He saw Su Buyu raise one hand—and a shimmering ice spike formed in his palm.

“What are you doing?”

“I lied to you.” Su Buyu gripped the spike tighter. “This method also requires a sacrifice. But the good news is—it only needs one.”

And with that, he stabbed the spike into his chest, enduring the excruciating pain as he tore out his own heart—the half-human, half-demon heart that had tormented him for so long.

“You have to stay behind. Someone needs to stay with him.”

He raised his trembling hand—and the blood-soaked heart dropped into the heart of the phoenix fire.

In an instant, it was as if a fuse had been lit.

A nuclear-like explosion thundered through the air, flattening the clouds.

Bai Xiucheng, along with the phoenix power he had long dreamed of, was reduced to ashes in the collision of ice and fire.

Tears rolled from Su Buyu’s eyes—now turned to frozen pearls. He had acted for so long, endured humiliation for so long, and finally, this moment had arrived.

“It worked…”

Yun Yongzhou caught Su Buyu’s falling body in a quickly conjured staircase of light. He couldn’t help but recall their early days in Shanhai—when he and Su Buyu had always seemed like bitter enemies, completely incompatible.

But there had been one time, during a duo combat training, when they were paired together. Forced into partnership, they had no one to rely on but each other.

[Reporting to the instructor—we’re completely incompatible. We can’t cooperate at all.]

He still remembered—it was Yang Sheng’s father who was their training officer then. After they resisted the training and failed again and again, he said:

[So what if fire and water don’t mix? On the battlefield, you may face anyone as your enemy—or partner. You don’t get to choose!]

[Water and fire can still become the most unexpected, unbeatable combo.]

They were forced onto the sparring platform, made to follow Instructor Yang’s instructions, using opposing moves to wait for the critical moment of victory.

[No team spirit at all—say it out loud! ‘Group Seven, Yun Yongzhou, launching attack!’ And you—say, ‘Group Seven, Su Buyu, supporting attack!’ Say it!]

Group Seven, Yun Yongzhou. Group Seven, Su Buyu.

Just like that match, the cooperation had succeeded.

Wei Huan could hardly believe what he was seeing. Clutching his chest, he flew shakily toward Yun Yongzhou. Another staircase of light formed under his feet, but his body swayed like a paper doll about to fall apart.

“Su Buyu…” he called his name in a hoarse whisper.

“Buyu, what are you doing?” Wei Huan had held back his emotions as long as he could—but in the end, he broke down, collapsing to his knees in front of Su Buyu. “Hey! What the h*ll are you doing?!”

I don’t get you.

Why did you have to hide this from me?

Su Buyu smiled at him. He didn’t reach out with his bloodstained hand—he offered his clean one instead.

“I’m sorry.”

He had owed this apology for so many years. It had become a dirty, heavy stone pressing down on his heart, suffocating him, dragging him into countless inescapable nightmares.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” Wei Huan’s brow was furrowed tight, tears falling uncontrollably.

“I couldn’t tell you…” Su Buyu smiled like a child who had finally gotten what he wanted. “If I did, you… you wouldn’t have gone through with it. I had to fool you—to fool Bai Xiucheng…”

Bai Xiucheng, cunning to the extreme, had always looked at Su Buyu like a younger version of himself. He was certain this half-demon, desperate and denied, would become twisted—craving power, becoming exactly like him.

Su Buyu knew Bai Xiucheng prided himself on reading people’s hearts—so he played the part Bai expected. He became twisted, power-hungry, obedient to authority—just like Bai Xiucheng. Only that way could he gain full trust.

Only that way could he seize this fleeting, critical moment of victory.

Suddenly, Wei Huan understood. He understood why, when he’d tried to strike Su Buyu down in a fit of rage, Su Buyu had reflexively said: “You’re too soft.”

Because if Wei Huan had known what it would take to destroy Bai Xiucheng—this price—he would never have agreed. Kunlun Void would have fallen. Bai Xiucheng would have stayed in control. Wei Huan would have lived with lifelong regret. The phoenix flame would continue to torment them all. It would’ve become a never-ending war.

“I’m sorry.” Su Buyu said it again.

He tried to reach for Wei Huan’s hand but hesitated. Wei Huan grabbed it first, bowing his head.

“I regret it so much… why was I such a coward back then?” Su Buyu breathed like a deflating bellows, his other hand pressed against the empty hollow in his chest. “I didn’t want you to know I was weak… That’s how he blackmailed me… but I really did want to tell you everything. I just… never had the chance.”

It had been wrong from the start—no matter what he tried, he couldn’t go back. All he could do was watch everything spiral toward ruin.

But at least this time, Su Buyu didn’t hesitate.

This time, he could finally live up to his own name.

“Oh, right…” Su Buyu’s lips were pale now. He could no longer summon his power. He used his bloody hand to fumble in the pocket near his chest and finally pulled out Wei Huan’s birthday gift—the most precious item of his life.

“This feather…” He pressed it into Wei Huan’s hand. He didn’t say anything else.

He had wanted to say “thank you,” maybe “I’m returning it to you.” But in the end, those words weren’t necessary.

He still remembered the joy of receiving that feather. And now, finally, he could return it.

It was never mine to keep, Su Buyu thought.

Wei Huan clenched his jaw, tears falling hard and fast onto the Nine Phoenix feather. He could feel it—Su Buyu’s body was growing cold, slipping away like water.

“Don’t go…” Wei Huan sounded like a high school boy again, desperately pressing down on Su Buyu’s blood-soaked chest, choking through tears, “You promised to show me your tail. Why would you break your promise?”

A faint dimple appeared on Su Buyu’s lips.

“I lied. You won’t see it anymore.”

That tail was traded for your life long ago.

Ever since your death, this half-mermaid has had no tail.

“At last… I can personally apologize to Uncle Wei and Aunt Shuang…”

His final wishes were all fulfilled.

Yang Sheng flew over too, half-kneeling on the light stair. Childhood friends—now all gathered in front of him.

“I… I finally got to be the main force too…” Su Buyu was still smiling. “Group Seven… won’t lose.”

Wei Huan could no longer lift his head. Too many memories surged into his mind.

Their youthful days—ultimately, they were gone forever.

Su Buyu’s cold hand reached forward one last time and lightly touched the mermaid bead hanging from Wei Huan’s neck.

“Wei Huan.”

Su Buyu rarely called his name so seriously. And now, he finally said the words he should’ve said the first time they met—words he’d held back out of fear.

“It was… nice to meet you.”

Thank you—for once lighting up my dim and miserable life.

That hand slowly slipped away from the pearl, falling out of Wei Huan’s grasp, never to rise again.

A gentle rain began to fall from the sky.