Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 18

Betrayed?

That’s impossible…

Wei Huan averted Yang Sheng’s gaze, lowering his head and trying hard to suppress his shivers. He couldn’t—mustn’t—let Yang Sheng see the disbelief on his face.

Because he was Nine Phoenix! How could Nine Phoenix possibly have betrayed them?

Back then, he had accepted the mission from Shanhai to go to the border canyon, where he fought tens of thousands of human soldiers in a bloody battle and gave up his life. How could he have…

“Do you want to see his name because he once saved you?”

Hearing Yang Sheng’s words, Wei Huan no longer had the strength to respond.

“He always liked saving people during missions, as if he was the only one in the world who had compassion for humans.” Yang Sheng’s tone grew colder and colder—so cold that Wei Huan almost couldn’t recognize the person before him. “Whether he truly betrayed us, I can’t say for certain. Maybe you humans know better than I do.”

“But my father really did die because of him.”

What?!

Wei Huan had been so focused on looking for his own name just now that he hadn’t noticed anything else. Shocked, he looked up at the Hero Monument—and sure enough, under the list of instructors who had fallen, the name of Yang Sheng’s father was clearly engraved: Yang Zheng.

“He doesn’t deserve to have his name carved here. He’s not worthy.”

Before Wei Huan could react, Yang Sheng had already spread his wings and flown away, leaving without the slightest hesitation.

Leaving Wei Huan alone in place, dazed.

Instructor Yang… died because of me…

Jing Yun quietly stepped up beside him. “Ah Heng, you might not know the full story. Seven years ago, during that counterattack operation, Nine Phoenix—Wei Huan—illegally entered the battlefield, faked being trapped, and sent out a distress signal. Instructor Yang Sheng’s father entered an enemy ambush in order to save him, and died in the border canyon.”

Illegally entered the battlefield?

No—he had received a formal reinforcement order. He had been dispatched as a special ops reinforcement by Shanhai!

Wei Huan forced himself to remain composed, clenching his fists so hard that his molars ached as he squeezed out his words: “And then?”

“Then… Nine Phoenix was captured.” Jing Yun took out the school-issued phone and pressed a button. A holographic display lit up in front of them. “This was released by the enemy—a recording of him after he was captured.”

Thinking of how Wei Huan had once said Nine Phoenix was his idol, Jing Yun added cautiously,
“I… I actually understand. He went through so much torture. In the end, he couldn’t take it anymore and handed over the battle insignia. There was nothing else he could do.”

Wei Huan stared at the blurry surveillance footage and felt ice seep through his entire body.
This wasn’t the truth. He knew it better than anyone—he had never handed over the battle insignia, and he had never defected. He had fought alone until the very end—until death.

He had died clean. With honor.

But the man in the video was clearly him—or at least looked exactly like him. Even the wounds matched.

He was trapped in a strange place, faint currents of electricity flickering in the air around him—thin and hazy, like a barrier, or perhaps a visible magnetic field.

The Wei Huan in the video was covered in injuries. His wings were in shreds. Blood had pooled and dried around him. His head hung low, motionless—like a defeated, condemned man with no chance of redemption.

But that’s not how it was…

Jing Yun put the phone away, speaking with hesitation, “Actually, the last time you mentioned Nine Phoenix, I found it really strange. I don’t know how humans view him, but in the demon realm…”

He sighed. “To be honest, we don’t know if he truly betrayed us. But he did hand over the insignia. It’s still in the hands of the human government forces. And he did lure Instructor Yang into that ambush. If it weren’t for the fact that his soul tablet shattered, people might still suspect he faked his death and defected.”

Ha. Faked death. Defected.

How could such words ever be paired with the name Nine Phoenix?

Wei Huan wanted to reject everything Jing Yun said. But precisely because it was Jing Yun saying them, he couldn’t.

“I see… So that’s how it is.” Wei Huan forced a smile with the last of his willpower. “I guess I only admired him because he was strong. Who would’ve thought… who would’ve thought he was that kind of person.”

He took a deep breath, scratching the back of his head with a laugh. “Sorry, I’m human—I don’t understand everything. I didn’t expect things to be like this.”

“Ah Heng…”

“I’m not feeling too well. I’ll head back to Yansui first.”

After parting ways with Jing Yun, Wei Huan wandered alone like a walking corpse. Fragmented memories kept flashing through his mind.

In his past life, he’d never thought he’d die on the battlefield.

But even more, he’d never imagined he’d die like that.

This revelation was a heavy blow—a punch that shattered all the pride he’d been born with. His dignity, his former glory—all torn to shreds in that one moment.

Leaning behind the shadow of a tree, Wei Huan replayed that video over and over, watching his corpse-like self being tortured. He tried to find some clue, some detail that could prove the man in the video wasn’t really him.

But no matter how hard he looked, all he could do was confirm the truth. A truth that wasn’t in his memory, but had been clearly recorded.

The surveillance footage was short—barely a minute. But for Wei Huan, it felt endlessly long—each second like a slow, stabbing torture.

How ridiculous. For the past seven years, he’d thought he had died gloriously—died with honor, like a hero.

But now he realized it had all been a lie. He’d been forced to wear the most vile, most false funeral shroud—trampled by the words of thousands. The legacy of Nine Phoenix’s clan—their sacrifices and devotion—wiped away by his own death.

The one who cared most about the name Nine Phoenix… was him.

And the one who personally dragged that name into the mud and left it to be stepped on by the world—

was also him.

He drifted in this daze for who knows how many days. Then one morning, before he’d even recovered from the betrayal, he discovered a faint bluish tint on his fingers. His organs ached slightly when he moved.

By his count—his second death wasn’t far away.

So this was Heaven’s reason for letting him live again? To make him taste, with his own flesh and soul—what it meant to be falsely accused?

These days, Wei Huan hadn’t gone to find Yan Shanyue again. Ever since he learned that he had borne the name of a traitor for the past seven years, he had even given up the idea of returning to this world. Whether he could survive or not no longer seemed to matter.

During a combat training class, the assistant instructor ordered everyone to form groups freely for practice. Yang Ling had originally run straight toward Yan Shanyue, but halfway there, she paused and looked at the silent Wei Huan. From several meters away, she shouted, “Stupid human! Go find a partner already!”

Wei Huan didn’t respond. His eyes were still blank.

Yang Ling bit her lip. This chatterbox hadn’t pestered her like before for many days now. She didn’t know why, but sometimes she’d catch him staring at her face in a daze, with such a sad expression in his eyes. Yang Ling had wanted to ask about it many times, but couldn’t bring herself to. She could only hold it in.

“Fine, ignore me if you want. But don’t try to fight our group later, or I’ll smash your head in.” Clenching her fists, she ran back to Yan Shanyue’s side.

Wei Huan still didn’t say a word. The others gradually paired off, and only he remained, head bowed, standing alone under the scorching sun.

“Hey, why didn’t you pair with that human? Weren’t you seatmates?”

“No way. What if he drags me down in a sparring match?”

“That’s what I mean—why did that deadweight even come to our class? What a nuisance.”

He had long since gone numb. Since his rebirth, Wei Huan had been surrounded by such remarks every day. Even though all of them had been admitted to Shanhai based on their own merits, he was always the one looked down on—just because he was human. Whether among humans or monsters, it seemed he was a failure in both worlds.

Suddenly, Wei Huan sensed a familiar demon aura. He instinctively looked up.

Yun Yongzhou had appeared before him, tucking away his dazzling white wings as he walked toward him step by step. The sight felt a bit unreal. Wei Huan narrowed his eyes slightly, confirming that he was indeed approaching.

The assistant instructor saw Yun Yongzhou and immediately blew the whistle. “Combat Preparedness Class One, assemble!”

Everyone quickly gathered, forming a small square formation. Wei Huan stood at the very back row, watching Yun Yongzhou from a distance over the heads of the students in front of him.

His face was still cold, which made Wei Huan even more distressed. For some reason, Wei Huan suddenly really wanted to know what this person thought of him.

Without warning, his heart began to twist with pain. The toxin always found just the right time to act up.

Right—how could he forget? In his previous life, Yun Yongzhou had deeply despised him. Upon hearing of his “betrayal,” this person had probably thought it only natural—perhaps even too indifferent to bother feeling more hatred.

“You.”

A flame shot through the air, landing alongside Yun Yongzhou’s gaze in front of Wei Huan.

“Step out.”

The students in front of him parted. Behind them, someone whispered, “Is Instructor Yun targeting that human student?”

“Who knows? I’ve been sick of him for a while too.”

Wei Huan swallowed down the lump in his chest and silently stepped out of the line.

Yun Yongzhou tossed him a close-combat dagger. “Take this. Stand across from me.”

Wei Huan didn’t immediately react. He held the dagger in confusion and looked at Yun Yongzhou. Was this supposed to be a demonstration spar?

Before he could fully grasp the situation, Yun Yongzhou’s figure flashed like lightning. He twisted Wei Huan’s right hand—the one holding the dagger. The pain made him instinctively let go, and the dagger fell. But his innate danger reflex kicked in—Wei Huan quickly caught it with his left hand and aimed a stab at Yun Yongzhou’s arm, only for the attack to be dodged.

“This is the best you can do?” Those pale, indifferent eyes stared at Wei Huan, the voice low and cool.

That look of disdain was like a knife plunged into Wei Huan’s chest. All the frustration, sorrow, and resentment that had built up these past few days surged at once, flooding his weak human body.

Wei Huan gripped the dagger tightly, his gaze sharp. “I’m not someone you can just look down on.”

“Prove it to me.”

All the students focused their eyes on the two figures in the training arena. That human who had always played the role of a weak opportunist was now gripping a dagger gleaming with cold light, giving everything he had in a duel against the legendary chosen one. It was an almost impossible feat.

Like someone clinging to hope in a swamp, Wei Huan used every ounce of strength to fight his former nemesis. Every strike and every move was made without reservation.

The monster students watching were all stunned. In their eyes, even though Wei Huan had gotten into Shanhai, he was still a human—a lesser being, something to be trampled on.

“D*mn, he’s fast…”

Their fight grew fiercer. Wei Huan threw punches without holding back, striking Yun Yongzhou again and again. He didn’t care if his moves resembled the deceased, didn’t care what Yun Yongzhou would think of this “lesser being.” He just wanted to let it all out.

He could feel Yun Yongzhou’s fist graze his cheekbone. The dull ache after blocking an attack reminded him that this pain was real—it made him feel alive. Wei Huan dodged and circled to Yun Yongzhou’s rear, flipping his grip on the dagger and stabbing toward the side of his neck.

As Yun Yongzhou turned his head, he caught sight of the flame mark on his temple—and those amber-like eyes. For a moment, Wei Huan’s hand trembled. A sharp pain struck his heart again, and he told himself it was just the poison acting up from the intense exertion.

The dagger slipped downward. Wei Huan caught it quickly with his left hand and stepped back two paces, saying nothing.

He waited for Yun Yongzhou’s ridicule—silent, cold ridicule, just like in the past.

But what came instead was the sound of the timer stopping.

“Three minutes forty-two seconds.” Yun Yongzhou lifted his indifferent face, those amber eyes sweeping over the other students. “Anyone who can last longer against me—step forward.”

Everyone looked at each other. No one moved.

“Since no one stepped forward,” he tossed the timer into the deputy instructor’s arms, “then shut up and train.”

“Don’t overestimate yourselves.” Yun Yongzhou’s voice was cold, his black instructor’s uniform enhancing the sharp chill about him. The tight uniform outlined his muscular frame. His face, his body, and his voice—all carried a powerful and ruthless will. “There will always be someone who can kill you before you can channel your spiritual power.”

The entire training ground fell silent at his words.

The deputy instructor resumed leading the students in combat training. Yun Yongzhou turned and looked at Wei Huan, who hadn’t spoken a word the entire time. Finally, he extended a hand toward him. His fingers were long and strong, the web of his thumb covered with overlapping scars, both old and new.

This gesture made Wei Huan momentarily freeze. Only then did he realize he was still holding Yun Yongzhou’s dagger. With a flick of his wrist, the gleaming blade spun half a turn in his hand and reversed direction. Holding the blade tip, Wei Huan extended his right arm and handed the handle back.

Two people. One blade. A handshake of estranged intimacy after seven years apart.

“If you lose focus in front of your opponent, it’s as good as handing over your life,” Yun Yongzhou looked up at him, eyes sharper than the blade’s gleam. “Unless you’re planning to give your life to me.”

Wei Huan pressed his lips together, loosened his grip, and let him take the dagger back and sheath it at his waist. He turned away coldly.

Unwilling.

This high-fluctuation emotion, after days of apathy, surged up again—still because of Yun Yongzhou.

Wei Huan couldn’t help but let out a bitter smile. That unwillingness was far too familiar. Whether in his glorious past life or this miserable present, whenever he encountered Yun Yongzhou, he was filled with unwillingness. He didn’t want to be looked down on by him, and he didn’t want to die so obscurely and helplessly.

[Prove it to me.]

Yun Yongzhou’s voice echoed in his head.

Yes, he did want to prove himself to him. Even without the body of the Nine Phoenix or its demon power, he still wanted to prove everything about himself to this long-separated, perfect imagined rival.

He had already died once bearing a sin and infamy that weren’t his. He couldn’t—absolutely couldn’t—let it happen again.

His fists at his sides clenched tight as Wei Huan’s gaze fell on that black-clad figure.

He had to survive.

To clear his name.