Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 27

“Hand,”

Yun Yongzhou’s cold voice snapped Wei Huan out of his memories. He replied with a dazed “Mm?” just as Yun Yongzhou grabbed his wrist.

With a soft click, a matte metallic bracelet appeared on his right wrist, colored pale gold and etched with a black sun totem.

“What’s this?” Wei Huan asked, confused. He looked up. “Ah, I get it—you’re afraid I’ll run off, so you gave me one of those restraints, right? Like the kind that zaps you if you go beyond a certain distance—pain everywhere, blood pouring out the ears—”

Yun Yongzhou cut off his ramble. “It’s just a weapon.”

Weapon?

He thought it was some kind of handcuff kink. Wei Huan lifted his arm and examined the golden bracelet, then shook it around. “How is this a weapon?”

Yun Yongzhou didn’t answer. His pupils turned gold for a moment. Before Wei Huan could react, the bracelet suddenly transformed into a sharp, sleek light-blade, appearing right in his hand.

“Holy sh*t.” Wei Huan stared at the weapon in his grip, stunned. Once he confirmed it was real, he couldn’t resist swinging it a couple of times, full of excitement. “What the h*ll is this?”

“Light Manipulation.” Yun Yongzhou explained calmly. “This bracelet is a physical medium for it. After forming a pact with me, you’ve gained part of my power. Right now, you can only create light, but not weaponize it. This bracelet helps with that. Of course, at your level, you still need to practice.”

Wei Huan couldn’t believe it. In the entire demon realm, only Yun Yongzhou could use Light Creation. And now, he was sharing it with him?

“Wait, you mean I can make weapons out of light? Anything? Any size?”

“Make one yourself first before getting ahead of yourself,” Yun Yongzhou replied flatly, as blunt as ever.

“Tch.” Wei Huan pouted. He glanced around, then looked back at Yun Yongzhou. “But… why would you…”

“I already said, I don’t want to form a pact with a dead man. You need to learn how to protect yourself.” Yun Yongzhou knew exactly what he was about to ask, so he cut him off early, sidestepping the real answer. Without looking back, he walked out of the training room, spread his white wings, and disappeared into the night sky.

“Fine, don’t say it.” Wei Huan stared at the light-blade in his hand, turning it this way and that. He muttered, “How do I turn this back?”

Go back.

Turn back.

While mumbling, Wei Huan flicked his wrist. Suddenly, the light-blade transformed back into a bracelet.

“D*mn, this thing is so freaking cool…”

Just as he was basking in the awesomeness of his new weapon, something fell on his head. He reached up—and it was that furball again.

Wei Huan pinched it hard like he was squeezing a rubber candy. “Why are you still haunting me?”

“Ying…” the furball let out a pitiful sound, shrank slightly, and slipped from his fingers, bouncing onto his shoulder. “Ying ying ying.”

“Ying my *ss. Didn’t you already switch loyalties to someone else’s thigh? You little opportunist.” Wei Huan tried to yank it off his shoulder, but the little thing was surprisingly strong and refused to budge. “Hey, you little crybaby… I’m warning you, I’m not who I used to be. Sticking to me won’t get you anything.”

Despite his words, Wei Huan was secretly pleased. At least the little furball still remembered him.

When he returned to the dormitory, it was already very late. His roommate hadn’t come back yet—then he remembered his roommate had probably gone home. After washing up, Wei Huan climbed into bed and turned off all the lights.

In the darkness, images of being alone with Yun Yongzhou in the training room just hours earlier kept flashing through his mind, like a film too unforgettable to forget. Every line, every frame—his memory had recorded them all.

Since his rebirth, Wei Huan had never suffered from insomnia. Every day was lived in fear and anxiety; midnight was like a beast devouring all his energy—except for today.

He tried to fall asleep, using every trick he could think of. But the harder he tried, the more awake he became. Eventually, he threw off the covers and sat up in bed.

“Ying!” The little furball was startled, its fur standing on end. It jumped into the air and lightly landed back on Wei Huan’s lap.

Bathed in moonlight from the window, Wei Huan picked it up and placed it in his palm. “You can’t sleep either? I knew it—turns out it’s not just me.”

The furball was so drowsy it looked like it was about to collapse, unable to even stay spherical. It flopped like a sticky rice cake and let out a weak little noise: “Ying…”

Wei Huan put on a serious face and pretended to understand it. “I knew you weren’t sleepy either. Come, keep your ex-master company.”

The phrase “ex-master” seemed to hit a nerve. The furball pulled itself together into a ball again. Despite not having a mouth, it somehow pouted and let out a pitiful string of whimpers: “Ying ying ying~”

“Tell me—why do you think he made a pact with me?” Wei Huan crossed his legs and placed the furball in the middle. The little guy leaned against his leg and gave a soft “Ying.”

Wei Huan guessed, “Do you think he likes men?”

“Ying~”

“You think so too, huh?” Wei Huan clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Unbelievable. Turns out Yun Yongzhou’s the love-at-first-sight type. Think about it—me and him—uh, I mean the current me and him, haven’t even known each other that long. And yet he was all in: forming a blood pact, reviving me, even teaching me light-wielding techniques.”

The more he thought about it, the more he felt Yun Yongzhou was way too enthusiastic. Wei Huan sighed. “I never thought he was like that before… I was always the one chasing after him.”

The furball let out a long “Ying~~~” like a sigh.

“Right? Sometimes you can’t even cling if you want to.”

That Yun Yongzhou—really has no taste.

The scene from the training room surfaced again.

Yun Yongzhou’s beautiful face, under the fragile glow of fireflies, looked as though veiled in a layer of pale golden gauze. His eyes were bright—golden and dazzling—yet misty and soft. These contradictions always coexisted in him. Like his name, he was the eternal bright daylight, yet always shrouded in drifting clouds and fog.

Wei Huan didn’t know why he could so vividly trace the lines of someone’s face in his mind right now. It was strange.

He stretched out his hand, slowly curling his fingers. The suffocating, oppressive black night fell like a heavy, damp blanket, wrapping tightly around him. He simply closed his eyes.

[My blood flows in your body. Use it to feel the darkness.]

[Use your blood to ignite the light.]

A tingling sensation crept across his scalp—there was clearly a power surging inside him. But this time, Wei Huan could finally face it calmly. He clenched his fist, feeling the heat in his blood begin to boil and rise.

Cautiously, he loosened his grip and, imitating what Yun Yongzhou had shown him before, tried again. But no light appeared in his palm.

“Ying…”

“It’s okay,” Wei Huan said, lying back and staring at the ceiling in the dark. “I knew it wouldn’t be that easy.”

Even though he could feel the demon power flowing in his blood, why couldn’t he produce light?

The little furball hopped onto his shoulder and quietly settled there, saying nothing.

A tangle of thoughts lurked in the darkness, turning the quiet night vast and wide. Yun Yongzhou’s cool voice echoed in Wei Huan’s hollow chest.

[You want light, don’t you?]

Light.

Closing his eyes, he sank fully into a pool of darkness. He let go of unease. Let go of the burning in his blood. What remained was the warmth of ash left behind after the fire, scattered by the moon-washed night breeze, freely diffusing into the air.

What was left wasn’t fear.

It wasn’t demon power driving or controlling him.

It was longing.

With his eyes shut, his skin unable to catch the night wind, every cell in his body was overtaken by yearning.

I want light.

Suddenly, his heart began to race—pounding against his chest like drums heralding the beginning of some grand ritual. As the beat edged from scattered to continuous—

Wei Huan opened his eyes.

The plain, dark room was now filled with scattered golden lights, floating mid-air in different sizes. Their gentle motion made them look alive.

It felt like standing in the Milky Way.

He reached out. As he lightly moved his fingers, the specks of light darted toward him like shooting stars, gathering in front of him.

Compared to Yun Yongzhou’s blazing sunlight, these faint sparks were insignificant. But they were created by him. They were his stars—within reach.

He’d only seen such gentle, glimmering light once before—in his past life, during the Shanhai Festival.

At night, the festival was like a fairground. The ground was lined with student-run booths, all decorated with pretty lanterns. Some were games, some sold snacks, others had strange little trinkets for sale.

“Fuyou always comes up with the coolest stuff. Look, their booths are floating!”

“Eh? Isn’t that blindfolded one little Nine Phoenix?”

“Looks like it! I want to see what they’re doing!”

Suspended mid-air, blindfolded, Wei Huan held a toy gun in raised hands. Behind him, Yang Sheng stood back-to-back with him, arms restrained, their wings overlapping.

Within a five-meter radius around them, dozens of academy flags floated in mid-air, gliding horizontally as if weightless. Each flag was two meters long, colored red, blue, white, or green—red being the most common, and blue the rarest, with only one flag of that color. The flags of the four major academies were tightly packed and nearly enclosed the two of them in a cylindrical space.

“Why are they playing this game?” A spectator hovering above looked down with hands behind their back.

“If you hit the target, you get a prize voucher that can be exchanged for rewards.”

“See that Fuyao flag? I heard hitting that one gets you a super grand prize.”

By now, Wei Huan had already hit several academy flags. The flags were spinning faster and faster, some even swapping colors in place. With his movements restricted, Yang Sheng acted as Wei Huan’s eyes, just like during their regular training sessions, coordinating with him.

The referees were a pair of small, adorable twin butterfly demons who fluttered around, giving guidance to the participants.

“Three minutes left.”

“You two have two bullets remaining~” The butterfly twins joined hands and cast a spotlight onto Yang Sheng and Wei Huan. “Can you hit the only Fuyao flag?”

They were surrounded by students from Fuyao Academy, all cheering wildly for Wei Huan and Yang Sheng. The crowd was massive. Yun Yongzhou, dragged off by a senior to do grunt work, was flying past while carrying a huge box of decorative materials to the Yansui booth. As he passed by the scene, the crowd jostled him so much he nearly dropped the box.

Frowning deeply, he tried to fly higher to get away from the clueless demons, but a glance down happened to catch sight of Wei Huan—eyes covered.

This guy—he got tormented by the hook snake just this afternoon, and now he still has the energy to play games?

Bang! The air gun hit a ball. Wei Huan tilted his head slightly. “Did I hit it?”

Yang Sheng shook his head. At the very moment Wei Huan pulled the trigger, the Fuyao flag had switched to the Shangshan flag. The swap was so fast it almost made him think he was seeing things. “Too slick. It dodged at the last second.” He described the blue flag’s position again, and Wei Huan adjusted his arm to aim at the Fuyao flag that had now moved to the other side.

“Don’t shoot,” Yang Sheng warned softly.

Sure enough, the Fuyao flag shifted again, just as he predicted. Unlike the other flags that moved randomly, this one clearly reacted to Wei Huan’s actions.

“Wei Huan, let me tell you a ghost story,” Yang Sheng suddenly began to ramble. “Guess what? You think you’ll still get the combat readiness slot you want this time?”

Wei Huan, still blindfolded, curved his lips into a grin.

Yang Sheng aimed at a red flag. “Ah Huan, I don’t think we’re gonna hit our academy’s flag.”

“Right?” Wei Huan immediately joined in the banter like they were doing a comedy skit. “No wonder it’s Fuyao Academy—even the flag’s this sly. Forget it, forget it, I’m done playing.” As he spoke, he reached up to remove his blindfold.

“Hey hey hey, don’t,” Yang Sheng elbowed him in the back. “What are you doing? You’ve still got two bullets left. Just hit a couple of white flags, we can still trade them in. My sister’s been nagging me since yesterday to bring her a prize.”

Wei Huan clicked his tongue. “You sis-con.”

“Who are you calling a sis-con?!”

“Whoever argues with me is the sis-con!”

The two of them started bickering for no reason, leaving the audience bewildered and whispering among themselves. Even the two butterfly girls were flustered. “Hey, you two…”

“Fine, you’re the boss,” Yang Sheng said, flying ahead. “I’m not being your wingman anymore.”

“Fine! You’re just scared to take the blame if we lose!”

Yang Sheng turned around. “Who are you calling a scapegoat?”

“You denying it?” Wei Huan shook his head. “Okay, let’s do rock-paper-scissors. Loser takes the blame.”

“I’ve got my hands tied and your eyes are covered. How the h*ll are we supposed to play rock-paper-scissors?”

Somehow, the two of them got into a full-on conversation, nearly driving the audience nuts. “Are you guys gonna play or not?!”

Yun Yongzhou hovered above with the box in his arms, silently watching. He didn’t even realize that although this was a two-person game, his eyes were fixed on only one of them.

“Let’s play~” Wei Huan tilted his chin up, thought for a moment, then said, “Alright, let’s do a number game. Butterfly sisters, count us down from three. We both call a number, and whoever says the smaller number takes the blame.”

“Okay.” Yang Sheng looked up at the butterfly demons. “Ref, can you give us a countdown?”

The two butterfly girls exchanged confused glances, but eventually gave in to the absurd mini-game. “O-okay…”

“Thanks, lovely sisters,” Wei Huan said with a crooked grin.

“Three—two—one!”

Both spoke at once. Wei Huan called out “9,” Yang Sheng called “5.”

That’s when Yun Yongzhou suddenly realized what was happening.

The audience burst into laughter. “Yang Sheng lost!” But the moment the numbers were said, Wei Huan spun and fired his air gun in one smooth motion, hitting the Fuyao Academy’s blue flag dead-on.

“WHAT just happened???”

“WTF?!”

Wei Huan tore off the blindfold, raised an eyebrow, and flashed a dazzling smile. “Combat Preparedness Group No. 9, enemy at five o’clock eliminated—mission complete!”

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