Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 26

The moment the word “husband” left his lips, Wei Huan immediately wanted to bite his tongue and die.

He had sworn before his parents’ graves that he’d give them a whole bag of little nine-phoenix grandchildren. How could he call a man “husband” in broad daylight?! Especially this man—Yun Yongzhou, who had no sense of humor whatsoever.

It was like digging up the emperor’s tomb or tugging a tiger’s whiskers.

Wei Huan mentally slapped himself and then cautiously peeked at the man in question.

Who would’ve thought Yun Yongzhou’s face showed no signs of anger at all? He was calm—eerily calm. His gaze slid off Wei Huan’s panicked yet fawning expression and swept toward the other gossip-hungry students.

“To the training ground. Now.”

The students froze for a second, then quickly responded, “Yes, sir!”

Zhao Xingjian, who had been swaggering just moments before, was now fuming. But seeing Yun Yongzhou there, he could only hold it in. He stepped forward with a wronged expression and muttered, “Brother Yun…”

“Call me Instructor.”

See? He won’t even acknowledge you.

Wei Huan shook his head gleefully and mimicked in a whisper, “Brother Yun~”

Zhao Xingjian shot him a vicious glare and stormed out of the classroom.

Wei Huan stuck his tongue out at his back and laughed evilly, only to freeze when he turned and locked eyes with Yun Yongzhou. He immediately began pretending like nothing had happened. “Ah… I should head to the training ground too…”

“Wait.”

Wei Huan’s steps halted. He stiffly turned around and, guilty as h*ll, even closed his eyes.

Oh no oh no…

Please not the face, not the face…

Just as his nerves were stretched to the breaking point, cool fingers brushed lightly across his brow, gently rubbing.

Startled, Wei Huan opened his eyes and stared blankly at Yun Yongzhou. Yun Yongzhou said nothing. Tilting his head slightly, he continued to look at him.

“Training ground!” Wei Huan shouted at himself internally, “Go to the training ground!”

He covered his brow and quickly exited the classroom.

Yun Yongzhou watched his retreating back for a moment. Yang Ling bounced past him like a happy little rabbit, stopping at the door to call out, “Sister Shanyue, let’s go!”

“Coming.” Yan Shanyue flipped through a book on her desk. “I’m looking for something. Walk slow and wait for me.”

“Okay.” After answering, Yang Ling turned to Yun Yongzhou and gave him a small smile, whispering, “Brother Yun, I’m going first.”

Once the little Bifang left, only Yan Shanyue remained in the classroom. Yun Yongzhou also prepared to leave. The nine-tailed fox who had just been rummaging around stood up and casually spoke as she walked to his side, “The reverse soul fruit I got was already used as soon as I got it.”

Yun Yongzhou didn’t look back and made no reply. The two walked side by side. Yan Shanyue continued, “You and I are different. I took first place because I wanted the reverse soul fruit. That human girl my brother kept—you probably heard of her—had a younger sister. I watched that kid grow up, watched her become my brother’s plaything.”

Yan Shanyue’s voice remained calm. “But I didn’t want to see her die.”

She had been so deeply betrayed once that she couldn’t bring herself to help another human ever again. But when she returned home after a long absence and learned the little girl was dying from abuse, guilt finally overwhelmed her.

She couldn’t accept a living person dying because she chose to ignore it.

Yun Yongzhou finally spoke. “You don’t need to explain this to me.”

“You’re right.” Yan Shanyue’s lips curved slightly as she looked toward the training ground, where Wei Huan and Yang Ling were bickering. “I should tell that human. But he seems like the kind of person with a big heart, who doesn’t care whether I refused his request or not.”

He really was.

Big-hearted, never tied anyone down, and never held grudges.

“But you, Instructor Yun,” Yan Shanyue glanced sideways at him, her words carefully measured, “as a reincarnation of the original Golden Crow, with such a rare bloodline, you risk being condemned by your whole clan just to form a blood pact with a human…”

Yun Yongzhou seemed deaf to her words, showing no intention of responding.

“That’s nothing,” Yan Shanyue leaned in slightly, lowering her voice, “because I heard… you already used your reverse soul fruit seven years ago.” She looked up at Yun Yongzhou. “Gou Wen isn’t a pleasant taste, is it? Doesn’t Instructor Yun need a break to recover?”

“Thanks for the concern.” Yun Yongzhou halted and met her gaze. “I’m just glad… that in front of him, you’re a fox who doesn’t talk much.”

Yan Shanyue raised a brow, lifted a hand as if to block the sun, and the violet iris tattoo on the back of her hand shimmered with a demonic glow.

“The weather’s nice today,” she said cheerfully, the curve of her lips ambiguous. “Perfect for fishing for info. Or for extortion.”

While they were having their silent conversation, neither noticed that two others on the training ground had already formed a private alliance. Yang Ling hid behind a shade tree, and Wei Huan was sitting under it hugging his knees, a blade of grass between his lips, sneakily watching Yun Yongzhou and Yan Shanyue from afar.

“Hey, what do you think they’re talking about?” Yang Ling elbowed Wei Huan in the head. “Sister Shanyue is even smiling. She almost never smiles…”

“How would I know? We’re miles away, I’m just a weak, pitiful, helpless little human, okay?” Wei Huan rubbed his head, muttering, “Maybe your Sister Shanyue also likes Yun Yongzhou.”

“No way!” Yang Ling grabbed Wei Huan’s hair. “That’s impossible! Sister Shanyue would never like Brother Yun!”

“Ow ow ow—let go of my hair! It hurts!” Wei Huan struggled free from her claws. “Okay, okay, she doesn’t like him. Definitely doesn’t.”

Unfortunately, just then, two gossiping girls walked by nearby.

“Hey look, it’s Instructor Yun and Yan Shanyue.”

“They look so good together.”

“Exactly! Both of them are so good-looking, both top of the class when they enrolled, families match perfectly—literal god-tier couple!”

“Right? It’s like that classic ‘When I grow up, I’ll become you’ trope. Total match!”

Yang Ling and Wei Huan whipped their heads around and retorted in unison, “Match your face!”

The two girls jumped and scurried off in embarrassment.

“Pfft. These kids today think everyone’s a perfect match,” Wei Huan scoffed, watching their retreating backs. “So immature.”

Yang Ling’s ponytail bounced. “Exactly. Brain-dead shipper fans. Always pairing our Sister Shanyue with random guys.”

“You’re right,” Wei Huan agreed, suddenly flooded with memories of Yun Yongzhou being paired in every imaginable combo on the Shanhai forums. He completely forgot that he himself used to be at the center of countless crack ships too—half of Shanhai was rumored to be involved with him at one point.

“What’s right?”

Hearing Yan Shanyue’s voice, both of them whipped around in fright. Yang Ling immediately panicked and shoved Wei Huan, who was still squatting, forward. “I didn’t—I didn’t say anything!”

“Sh*t…” Wei Huan toppled over and landed right against Yun Yongzhou’s pant leg. Realizing where he was, he instantly pulled back and grinned awkwardly. “I—I didn’t say anything either.”

Yun Yongzhou gave him a bland glance, then turned and walked to the center of the training ground.

“Combat Preparedness Class One. Assemble.”

Back when Wei Huan studied at Shanhai, his favorite classes were combat training. After all, he’d once been the main combat force of Fuyou. Whether close combat or power usage, he was far above the average student.

After becoming human, he thought he’d be devastated—going from a once-glorious genius who could take on hundreds alone to a powerless ordinary person. It should’ve been impossible to keep a stable mindset. But after actually starting school, he realized he wasn’t as upset as he thought. After all, he was a natural-born optimist.

Just… a tiny bit unwilling.

After close-combat training ended, Wei Huan sat on the grass, panting, watching as his classmates one by one unleashed their demonic powers—fire flying everywhere, brighter than the sun. With nothing else to do, he started watching everyone’s abilities in detail.

Yang Ling’s powers were vastly different from her brother Yang Sheng’s. If his wind summoning was a support skill capable of helping a whole Fuyou unit, then hers was pure offense. Her lotus fire was not only fast but explosive. If she learned to control its range, her combat strength would be terrifying.

Wei Huan’s eyes shifted to Yan Shanyue. She was currently sparring with the arrogant tengu Zhao Xingjian. Unlike his older brother, Zhao Xingjian inherited fire attributes from his mother’s line. As a tengu, he absorbed the sun’s essence—the stronger the sunlight, the more intense the flames he could summon. Like right now: it was 2 PM and the sun was blazing. The mutt had summoned a full ring of fire, trapping Yan Shanyue inside.

“No wonder the whole dog clan likes Yun Yongzhou…” Wei Huan spat out his grass stem and accidentally scoffed, looking toward Yun Yongzhou, who was a dozen meters away instructing students. “They just wanna bask in the solar glow.”

But Yan Shanyue’s foxfire was no joke either. Her control was top-tier, making her the best at area control. Add in her Yuzao Mirror sealing technique, and she was deadly. Even without it, her close-combat skills and illusions from the nine-tailed fox clan made her more than capable of beating most opponents with ease.

Wei Huan suddenly remembered: in the friendly match during the Shanhai Festival back then, Yan Shanyue’s older brother’s foxfire didn’t manage to suppress Yun Yongzhou. Instead, Yun Yongzhou beat him badly. He was supposed to carry Team Yansui but ended up disgracing himself.

Looks like foxfire had its limits too.

Which was why the former Instructor Yang once said, “Golden Crow flame is not the same as ordinary fire. Among all of you juniors, the power inside Yun Yongzhou is the most terrifying.”

As he kept watching, Wei Huan’s eyes involuntarily wandered back to Yun Yongzhou. Someone this powerful—why wasn’t he on the battlefield?

Why was he here at Yansui, working as some ordinary instructor?

And everyone always says “everything has its counter”—so isn’t there anyone who can keep someone like Yun Yongzhou in check?

Sigh. Wei Huan flopped back onto the grass, staring up at the azure sky, his eyes stinging a little.

Anyway, that person definitely wouldn’t be someone like him—so weak now he couldn’t even tie up a chicken.

“Teach—er—Yun—!” Yang Ling shouted from far away after the session ended. “Someone’s slacking off over here!”

Wei Huan sat up, stretched lazily, flipped her off with a middle finger, then, when Yun Yongzhou turned to look his way, sheepishly used two fingers to poke his cheeks and flashed a sweet smile.

It’s not like I want to slack off. But just relying on hand-to-hand skills, I can’t possibly beat any of the demons. I even have to keep my old tricks under wraps—life is really making things hard for this little human.

In the final five minutes of combat class, Yun Yongzhou called everyone to assemble. He gave a few brief comments, then looked to the back of the group where Wei Huan was hiding.
“The rest of you are dismissed. Wei Huan, report to Training Room 13 at 6 p.m. for after-class training.”

Snickers rippled through the team, with Zhao Xingjian leading the way. “Serves you right for slacking.”

Wei Huan raised his eyebrows and mouthed with a grin, I. Don’t. Care.

At dinner, Jing Yun had already saved a seat at the cafeteria and waved when he saw Wei Huan.

“How was today?”

“Great,” Wei Huan replied lifelessly. “Got detention tonight.”

“Huh?” Jing Yun gave him a sympathetic look—then suddenly noticed something. “Eh? Why’s there a golden dot between your brows?”

Wei Huan reached up and rubbed his forehead. “Is it that obvious?” No wonder Yun Yongzhou rubbed it earlier—probably wanted to see if he could wipe it off.

Ever since he made the pact with him, a faint golden dot had appeared between his eyebrows. At first, it wasn’t noticeable, but over the past couple of days, it had grown more distinct.

“Yeah.” Jing Yun snapped a photo of him. “Looks like a golden cinnabar mole.” He enlarged the photo with his fingers. “Look here.”

So the pact left a mark, huh? Had to leave something on his body.

Wait a minute…

Wei Huan suddenly remembered—normally, a pact left behind the other party’s family crest. How had he forgotten that? He started inspecting himself frantically and asked Jing Yun, “Do you see any new markings on me? Like flames or a sun totem or something?”

Jing Yun looked him over carefully, then shook his head. “Nope.”

“Really?” Wei Huan tugged down the collar of his school shirt and peered inside, practically burying his head. “Could it be somewhere indecent…?”

Jing Yun gave him a confused look. “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, nothing.” Wei Huan pulled his shirt back into place. “Let’s eat.”

Though Wei Huan had never kept a human as a pet, he’d seen enough of those situations before. What made him remember the family crest branding so clearly was one particular incident: a strikingly beautiful human boy, no more than fourteen or fifteen, who’d been cast out of a demon household because his randomly placed deep blue crest was so large and distorted it stretched from his right temple to below his eye—too grotesque for the demon master to tolerate.

The day that boy was cast out beyond the city’s barrier, Wei Huan happened to be passing by on his way to play ball with Yang Sheng.

The boy had electronic shackles on all four limbs and his head hung low.

That scene was burned into Wei Huan’s memory forever—and it was why he so deeply despised all demons who enslaved humans.

But still… where was his own crest?

After dinner, Wei Huan went to Training Room 13 as ordered. He opened the door—only to find total darkness.

Shanhai University had over a hundred training rooms, all different in size and purpose. Wei Huan remembered that at the entrance of each room was a touch screen; scanning a student’s fingerprint would activate the lights and other functions. He walked inside and groped along the wall until he touched what felt like a glass panel.

But no matter how he tapped, the screen didn’t light up.

Was it broken?

Suddenly, with a loud bang, the training room door slammed shut.

Wei Huan whipped around. Still pitch-black.

“Anyone there?” he called—but got no reply.

Maybe the system really was broken. He turned to go back toward the door. Ever since he escaped from the research facility, he’d found himself physically averse to darkness.

In his mind, broken, terrifying images began to flash.

Blood. Bombs. Armies in the thousands.

Corpses. Barriers. Crimson formations glowing in the dark.

Light.

He needed light.

“Yun Yongzhou…”

The name escaped his lips almost involuntarily, without him even having time to think about why.

But in the very next moment, the door suddenly opened.

With his vision swallowed by the dark, his other senses sharpened—magnified. He felt the familiar presence of demon energy, scorching and sharp, slicing through the thick black air as it swept in—powerful, impossible to resist.

Golden Crow energy.

And the sound of his breathing—urgent, ragged—unlike the composed, lofty solar prince he usually was.

A faint layer of moonlight traced the tall figure in a soft, silvery glow.

“You…” Yun Yongzhou caught his breath, his voice low, “are in the wrong training room.”

Wei Huan froze.

“This is Room 12. The system’s broken and hasn’t been fixed yet.”

Wei Huan gave a sheepish laugh. “Oh… no wonder it was pitch dark. I freaked out—couldn’t turn on the lights, and then the door just shut on me. I thought I was stuck.” He didn’t even know why, but whenever he saw Yun Yongzhou, he got nervous—so nervous that he started talking way faster than usual.

“So now we’re going to…” He pointed outside. “Head to Training Room 13?”

But Yun Yongzhou shook his head. “Here is fine too.”

Wei Huan didn’t understand. It was pitch black in here—how could they train when they couldn’t even see?

“Even if we went to Training Room 13, the lights would be off,” Yun Yongzhou said, walking past him into the darkness.

“Off?! What are you trying to do to me?” Wei Huan blurted out, and immediately regretted it.

Yun Yongzhou’s voice was light and calm, every word spoken as if it were the most natural thing in the world. “You’ve pacted with me. What do you think I’d do to you?”

That only made Wei Huan panic more.

But Yun Yongzhou, as if nothing had happened, continued walking deeper into the training room. With each step he took, a faint star-like light ignited behind him.

Tiny light sparks became the only source of light in the darkness, and Wei Huan followed them involuntarily. With every step forward he took, the light from the previous one vanished.

Yun Yongzhou stopped at the center of the room and turned around. Between the two of them, only a single golden light remained.

Yun Yongzhou reached out, and that light slowly floated into his palm. He closed his hand around it, crushing the light to dust.

“Hold out your hand. Make a fist.”

In the dark, Wei Huan heard Yun Yongzhou’s voice. He followed the command, stretching out his hand and clenching his fingers tightly.

“Feel the darkness.”

Feel the darkness…

Wei Huan didn’t understand what he meant.

Yun Yongzhou’s voice echoed in the training room—cool, clear, and resolute. “First, you need to understand darkness. Accept it. Get used to it. Let it no longer swallow your will.”

Listening to every word, Wei Huan was surprised to find that his heartbeat was gradually slowing. The unease that had been bubbling inside him was fading away.

“Darkness can indeed devour everything.”

“But as long as there is even a sliver of light, it will crumble—even if that light is small.”

As long as there’s a sliver of light…

Suddenly, Wei Huan felt his blood begin to boil—like magma beneath an awakening volcano—growing hotter and hotter, beginning to churn.

“There is my blood in your body. Use it to feel the darkness.”

All of a sudden, a long, cold hand covered his outstretched one. With vision taken away, the sensation of touch became all the more acute, seizing his nerves. At some point, Yun Yongzhou had approached him. “Use your blood to ignite light.”

Wherever that cold hand touched, searing heat exploded instantly. From his fist to his arm, it spread upward like a wildfire in a forest—ferocious and unstoppable.

Wei Huan’s human heart couldn’t seem to bear such intense power. It thumped wildly, on the verge of bursting.

Yun Yongzhou’s voice was gentle but commanding, impossible to resist.

“You want light, don’t you?”

Light.

I want…

That’s right.

“I want light.”

In an instant, the burning sensation vanished. That tearing, painful heat retreated as if it had never existed. Except for his still-shaky breath, there was no trace left behind.

Yun Yongzhou removed his hand and commanded, “Open your hand.”

Still dazed from that mysterious power, Wei Huan slowly opened his palm.

To his surprise, a faint glow appeared in his hand. Not like a brilliant star, but more like a fragile wisp of firefly light—small, but enough to tear through the overwhelming darkness.

It illuminated Yun Yongzhou’s face before him.

Wei Huan could hardly believe it—this light had come from his own hand. So small, so delicate, like a newborn child. He was stunned. “This… this is…”

Yun Yongzhou gave him the most certain answer: “This is your light.”

His heartbeat quickened again.

In that moment, Wei Huan’s nose almost stung with emotion. He never imagined that the power he had regained would come from this person in front of him.

And that person had told him with such certainty: This is yours.

Maybe it was because the light was too faint, or maybe because his heart was trembling at the birth of this new strength—Wei Huan thought he saw Yun Yongzhou’s lips curve into a faint smile.

“You can manipulate light now.”

So strange.

So familiar.

That sentence felt like a hidden switch, buried deep in his memory, suddenly flipped—something long forgotten stirring once again.

For a moment, they were no longer in this silent, dark training room, but dressed in red and blue combat uniforms, standing in a dilapidated building within the Dark Zone.

He remembered now.

Years ago, they had been dispatched to the Dark Zone on a mission—to capture a fugitive who had escaped from the Kunlun Prison. The zone was full of abandoned human structures from decades ago, and it was in one such building that they cornered the fleeing demon.

“Mission successfully completed!” Wei Huan had sealed the fugitive inside the Xiaoyao Box, a reward from the Shanhai Festival’s friendship battle, which could seal demon of medium to low power.

Hooking the box onto the belt of his combat uniform, he reached out to sling an arm around Yun Yongzhou’s shoulders. “Wanna grab a drink with your big bro?”

Yun Yongzhou raised a hand, and before his light blade even appeared, Wei Huan quickly pulled back his arm. “No drink, no drink—you’re my big bro.”

The building’s staircase was ancient—long and narrow. Yun Yongzhou wanted to summon a barrier teleportation to return to Shanhai, but Wei Huan objected. “Let’s just walk a bit more. We’re almost at the rooftop. We can fly back from there.”

Surprisingly, Yun Yongzhou didn’t object. But he also didn’t walk side by side with Wei Huan—just silently followed behind, always one step lower.

“I’ll tell you a secret,” Wei Huan said in a quiet voice. His footsteps, like Yun Yongzhou’s, were light. Yun Yongzhou had always trained like a close-combat assassin—his footsteps made no sound at all.

He cleared his throat and said seriously, “I can use Light Manipulation too.”

Yun Yongzhou said nothing and continued walking in silence.

“It’s true, if you don’t believe me, watch.” Wei Huan took a deep breath and shouted into the dark stairwell, “Yun Yongzhou!”

The next moment, the stairwell lights turned on. A dim yellow glow spread out, lighting up the narrow, dark staircase.

Due to humanity’s resource shortages, they had invented and applied sound-activated lights to conserve energy. Though demons couldn’t freely roam the Mortal Continent, the Dark Zone had no such restrictions. Wei Huan used to sneak in often, and his favorite invention was the sound-activated light.

Seeing the light come on, Wei Huan lit up like a three-year-old, grinning ear to ear. “Look! It lit up, right?”

Yun Yongzhou gave him a bland glance but didn’t offer any comment on his childish game.

They continued walking upward, one step at a time. The light didn’t stay on long before it flickered out.

Reaching another floor, Wei Huan again called out in a clear, drawn-out voice, “Yun Yongzhou—”

The stairwell light lit up again.

“Isn’t that amazing?” Wei Huan turned to him. “See? As long as I call your name, the lights turn on. There’s light. Isn’t that cool?” The smile on his face was more dazzling than the light itself.

Turning away, still smiling, Wei Huan muttered to himself, “The secret to Light Manipulation is the little Golden Crow’s name.”

They went up another floor in tacit sync. Wei Huan tried his foolproof trick again, but this time, it failed.

“Yun Yongzhou!”

The light didn’t turn on as expected.

What’s going on?

Wei Huan frowned and tried again. “Yun Yongzhou!”

Nothing. Darkness remained.

The light must be broken.

Where was he? Could it be that he left me behind on purpose?

Wei Huan looked around in the darkness, trying to find his quiet companion. “Yun Yongzhou?”

No reply.

“Yun Yongzhou! Hey! Yun Yongzhou! Yun…”

As he turned to head back down the stairs to search, he found him.

Almost colliding with him, Yun Yongzhou slowly opened his right hand. Floating in his palm was a shimmering aurora, dazzling and beautiful. The delayed light tugged a word from Wei Huan’s mouth, pulled out by instinct rather than thought.

“…Yongzhou.”

I want light.

The secret of light is you.