Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 32

“Do you want a drink?”

Yun Yongzhou snapped out of his thoughts, startled.

He had actually recalled that messy kiss right in front of this man.

Wei Huan held the cup of liquor, noticing the strange look in his eyes. A small furball peeked out from his collar, trying to catch a glimpse of Yun Yongzhou, only to be stuffed back in. Wei Huan set his own cup down and smiled, “Just kidding. Don’t take it seriously.”

Yeah.

He really shouldn’t take it seriously. He knew that better than anyone.

But he still couldn’t help locking that memory away in his heart, for seven whole years.

That lunatic who kissed him and then passed out in his arms—robbed of all reason by alcohol, driven only by impulse. Yun Yongzhou had understood that even then.

He should’ve brought Wei Huan back to Shanhai, preferably tossed him in front of the Chief Instructor of Fuyou so he could see for himself what kind of absurd things his student was doing, report it to the Academy, and ensure they’d never be assigned to the same unit again.

That would’ve been the best choice.

But then Wei Huan, in his sleep, had started mumbling his parents’ names. And tears had begun to fall silently from the corners of his eyes, cold drops landing on Yun Yongzhou’s collarbone.

From that moment on, Yun Yongzhou’s heart began to ache on its own—without his permission.

“Don’t go…”

Wei Huan’s arms clung tightly to him like a pitiful child.

So, after all, the strength he’d shown after his parents died had just been a front. Yun Yongzhou had seen with his own eyes how Wei Huan carried his parents’ coffins, dressed in mourning black, quietly seeing off every guest who came to offer condolences—including himself.

But not long after, Wei Huan was back at Shanhai, lively as ever—cracking jokes, flashing that bold grin, still calling him “Little Golden Crow” as if nothing had changed. Even during missions, he wouldn’t forget to sneak off to human nightclubs and drink himself silly.

People whispered behind his back that he had a heart of stone—fearless, unbothered even by his parents’ deaths.

But now Yun Yongzhou knew—those carefree smiles were nothing more than a disguise, a shield to ward off pity.

“Please… don’t go…” Every word that left his mouth didn’t sound like him at all. He looked nothing like himself as he begged.

Yun Yongzhou, whose pride had been shattered by a kiss, had made up his mind to leave that lunatic behind. But then that same lunatic clung to him like a fledgling without shelter, burying his head against Yun Yongzhou’s neck, seeking warmth in this cold, chaotic city.

“Stay with me… I don’t want to be alone…”

He knew better than anyone how soft this man’s heart was.

Yun Yongzhou stretched out his hand and awkwardly wrapped it around this fragile soul. His fingers gently ran through the soft hair at the back of Wei Huan’s head, slowly sliding down, patting the always-straight spine with care.

“I’m here…”

The words were weak, lacking any real stance. But the moment he said them, he felt as though he possessed the entire world.

The person in his arms gradually calmed down. Yun Yongzhou continued to gently stroke the back of his neck. His snowy white wings folded around them both, cocooning them in warmth—a temporary haven from a world soaked in blood and death, where Wei Huan could finally sleep soundly in his embrace.

A faint glimmer hovered in that tiny wing-enclosed world, allowing Yun Yongzhou to clearly watch over him.

Even if no one knew that he had once been kissed so roughly, once so unconsciously relied upon—it was still beautiful.

At least in that moment, their chests had pressed so close together.

He had once kissed the top of his head like a dragonfly brushing water.

To be honest, even Yun Yongzhou had lost count of how many times he’d just lain beside him with eyes wide open, watching until dawn.

But he would always remember how Wei Huan woke up totally clueless, eyes wide with confusion. “Where is this? Why are you here too?”

His expression had been so innocent, so bewildered—completely unlike the drunken Nine Phoenix from the night before. So the words that had reached Yun Yongzhou’s lips… were swallowed back down.

“Let’s go. I’ll take you back for punishment.”

No matter how reluctant Wei Huan was, they were still punished when they got back. In the center of the massive training ground, the top-ranked students of both Yansui and Fuyou academies were made to stand in punishment together, drawing the attention of every passerby.

The sun was so scorching that Wei Huan saw stars. His hangover hadn’t worn off yet, and his head throbbed in a haze.

“I can’t remember a thing… What even happened yesterday?” he asked, standing a meter away, trying to get answers from Yun Yongzhou.

“I think I drank too much yesterday. I didn’t… do anything to anyone that I shouldn’t have, right?”

Yun Yongzhou remained silent, simply gazing into the distance as the silent-moving building shifted from the southern side of Shanhai to the eastern side.

“Did you see anything?” Wei Huan tried hard to recall what had happened the previous night. “I remember someone pulling me into some shop, in a basement. There were so many people, it was loud, someone offered me a drink—that red, transparent kind of alcohol… and then…” He suddenly remembered something. “Ah, right! Someone was trying to kiss me. Then…”

No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall what happened after.

Even though he had a vague feeling that he had done something, the memory was like shattered frosted glass—unclear, impossible to piece together. Maybe it was the sun being too strong, but he started hallucinating: Yun Yongzhou’s face in the dark.

Very close—right in front of him.

He even remembered the shared warmth of their bodies, and…

Wei Huan turned to look at him again, asking once more, “Do you know what happened after…”

“Nothing happened,” Yun Yongzhou cut him off.

His tone was so firm that Wei Huan didn’t have the courage to question it.

“Good…” He suddenly smiled, showing his little canine tooth.

Maybe he had just dreamed it.

“Actually, when I first woke up and saw you, I felt relieved.” His voice softened, the smile fading.

“I probably didn’t do anything to you, right?”

Yun Yongzhou said nothing, just stared quietly at the training field ahead, his teeth clenched.

Guarding this secret that should never be spoken.

“This noodle is actually pretty good.” Wei Huan put down his chopsticks and took another sip of alcohol. Being human only had this one advantage—Yun Yongzhou no longer stopped him from drinking.

Ever since his rebirth, his memory always seemed full of gaps. Trying to think back, Wei Huan couldn’t help but sigh. “The last time I drank must have been…”

He didn’t finish. Some things shouldn’t be said. He tilted his head back and downed another glass.

It had been eight years.

The last time was at his parents’ seventh-day funeral ceremony.

“Don’t you want to try some?” Wei Huan swirled the alcohol glass in his hand. Sure enough, after becoming human, he never lost control no matter how much he drank. Even what humans called “drunk” was only one percent of what he used to feel—barely noticeable.

He glanced at the black-clad guy behind the curtain and lowered his voice to joke with Yun Yongzhou, “I heard that when non-humans drink this kind of alcohol, there are strong side effects—some might even lose their senses temporarily. I’m kinda curious—someone with your personality, Instructor Yun, what would you be like drunk?”

Would he turn into a chatterbox? Spill all the things he usually held back like pouring out beans?

Yun Yongzhou’s gaze was cold. His beautiful amber eyes had a faint watery sheen as he looked over.

“What are you hoping for?”

Wei Huan froze. For some reason, under that look, even his speech turned clumsy. “N-no, I was just curious. I’m not hoping for anything.”

He had hoped. More than once.

In his past life, no matter what tricks or schemes he used, he could never get Yun Yongzhou to take a single sip of alcohol. He just wanted to know—if Yun Yongzhou lost control, what would he be like? Would he shed that aloof dignity? Would he be easier to approach?

But for reasons unknown, alcohol was almost like forbidden ground for Yun Yongzhou. Especially after the punishment eight years ago, he’d avoided it like the plague.

Maybe the memory of Wei Huan’s drunken mess had left a deep impression—he never wanted to repeat it.

“Ying~” The little furball popped out again, jumping onto Yun Yongzhou’s hand when no one was looking.

“You—” Wei Huan glanced nervously toward the kitchen. “Aren’t you scared someone will see you and toss you in the frying pot?”

The furball whimpered pitifully, laying on Yun Yongzhou’s fingers like a sticky rice cake. Yun Yongzhou picked up a thin noodle with his chopsticks and held it in front of it. Before Wei Huan could even see clearly, the furball had slurped it all down in one go.

“Ying~”

“Why didn’t I realize before that you’re so greedy…”

As soon as he said it, Wei Huan realized he’d messed up again and laughed awkwardly to cover. “I meant… the other day…”

The furball whimpered again and obediently hopped back onto Wei Huan’s body, burrowing into his sleeve.

“Anyone who didn’t know would think I was raising a flea.” Wei Huan stifled a laugh and glanced at Yun Yongzhou. He was lowering his head, stirring the remaining noodles with his chopsticks.

He still couldn’t understand—someone like this little young master, who could’ve followed his family’s natural path into politics, chose instead to become an instructor at Shanhai. And now he’d even made a pact with a human. What was he after?

His face? No way.

“How did you find me?” Wei Huan couldn’t help asking.

Yun Yongzhou’s hand paused. Ripples still trembled across the clear noodle soup.

“We’re bound by a blood pact. I can sense when you’re in danger and use boundary-crossing techniques to pinpoint your location.” His explanation was plain and straightforward, like describing a spell—with no trace of emotion.

Wei Huan licked his lips. Even if the cheap alcohol had no real effect, it still made his heart race and his head heat up.

“Then… why can’t I sense you?”

Yun Yongzhou went silent again. After a long time, he finally spoke.

“You don’t need to.”

Why don’t I need to?

Is it because I’m just a human?

“Right. It’s not like I can do anything for you…” Wei Huan lowered his head and prepared to eat again, but then heard Yun Yongzhou speak, his tone awkward.

“That’s not what I meant.”

He looked up in confusion.

“You…”

You don’t need to sense me. You don’t need to know where I am, whether I’m hurt, whether I’m in trouble.

“Just take care of yourself. That’s enough.”

Even though so many years had passed, when Wei Huan looked at him, it was still like he was looking at that silent boy standing in the field of forget-me-nots.

He actually hoped Yun Yongzhou would candidly tell him everything about the blood pact, but every time the words reached his lips, he gave up. Even he couldn’t be honest with Yun Yongzhou about his own identity—what right did he have to demand full disclosure?

Still, he was a little curious: how did Yun Yongzhou view the former Nine Phoenix?

A nemesis? A schoolmate? A troublemaker?

Or, like everyone else, did he also consider him a disgrace to Shanhai?

These opinions—important or not—shouldn’t matter, since Wei Huan had never really cared much about what others thought.

But Yun Yongzhou was the opponent he’d respected most in his previous life. So he cared, at least a little.

“I wanted to ask you… back when you were in school…” Wei Huan struggled to reword his question in his mind to make it sound less deliberate. “Well, I’m in school now, and sometimes I come across classmates who really leave an impression…” He looked at Yun Yongzhou. “You were at Shanhai too—did you ever meet anyone like that?”

Yun Yongzhou put down his chopsticks and stared at Wei Huan with those beautiful eyes. In the sunlight, his pupils were like translucent amber, gleaming with a soft luster.

Why are you staring at me?

Was the question that hard to answer? Shanhai was full of all kinds of weird monsters—eight-legged rabbits, three-eyed dogs. Surely one or two stood out, right?

The more he thought about it, the less confident he felt. Wei Huan quickly gave himself an out. “It’s fine if there wasn’t. I’m sure when you were a student, you stood out so much that no one could compare to you. You probably didn’t pay much attention to others anyway.”

“There was one,” Yun Yongzhou said calmly.

Wei Huan’s interest was piqued again. “Who?”

“You…” His gaze fell on Wei Huan with meaning.

What?

Wei Huan was so startled he spilled his drink.

Sh*t—did I just blow my cover?

When did he recognize me?

“…The little furball in your sleeve.”

He felt like his heart stopped for several seconds, Yun Yongzhou’s fake-out nearly giving him a cold sweat. He rushed to grab a napkin to clean the spilled alcohol.

Whew…

But thinking over that answer, Wei Huan didn’t know whether to be happy or not. He gave a half-hearted, soulless laugh. “Oh, that little thing.”

The clear alcohol had flowed all the way to Yun Yongzhou’s side. He curled the corner of his lips slightly, almost smirking. “Yes. That little thing.”

He extended his long index finger, dipped it into the alcohol on the table, and swiped twice. Then suddenly, he reached out toward Wei Huan’s face.

He drew three lines—short but deliberate—on his cheek.

Wei Huan’s pupils widened involuntarily. His breath caught.

Those three lines were identical to the demon markings he’d once borne on his face.

Was he hinting at something?

Yun Yongzhou took a recycled napkin from Wei Huan’s stunned hand and slowly wiped his finger clean. His cold eyes held Wei Huan’s gaze for a few seconds, then casually looked away.

Toying with him like this was kind of fun.

Rare to see this guy scared for once.

Wei Huan’s Adam’s apple bobbed uneasily. He anxiously wiped the marks off his face with the rest of the napkin and called to the waiter, “How much?”

The black-clad young man looked at him coldly. “No need.”

“That won’t do.” Wei Huan immediately retorted. He wasn’t sure if Yun Yongzhou was testing him, but all he wanted was to change the subject and stop any further suspicion.

“We’ve got money. Don’t treat us like beggars. If you don’t say how much, we’ll just leave what we think is fair.”

“No need.” The young man cleared the bowls, chopsticks, and cups. “You’d better go. My foster father’s coming back.”

They were practically thrown out. When Wei Huan looked back, the young man had already fetched a stool and was fixing the sign over the door. A gust of wind lifted his pant leg—and only then did Wei Huan notice—his right leg was mechanical.

Seeing Wei Huan still standing there, the young man came back down and urged again, “Go. Don’t come back.”

Why is he doing this?

“So weird…” Wei Huan left the little courtyard confused. “No wonder business is so bad. I’ve never seen such a unique customer service attitude.”

In that moment, he had the feeling someone was behind him. He looked back—no one.

“Could he have realized you’re not human and got scared?” Wei Huan brushed off the thought. “But no way. You’ve got your demon aura hidden so well, I can’t feel a trace. And he doesn’t exactly look human himself.”

Yun Yongzhou said nothing, though doubts stirred in his mind. Just then, he felt a coolness on the side of his neck. Turning his head, he saw Wei Huan pressing the trigger for that electronic mask he’d taken earlier against his skin.

“This won’t do. Being with you is too much pressure.” Wei Huan pressed it, and a holographic screen appeared. He muttered to himself, “Gotta pick something more normal. I can’t let you be the flashiest guy on the street anymore.”

“I don’t need that.”

“Just bear with it. Let me pick a pretty face for you.” Wei Huan smiled as he tapped. “This one! Looks good, right?”

As the two bantered, they turned a corner and ran into a dead-drunk man staggering toward them. He almost collapsed into Wei Huan.

Yun Yongzhou’s instincts kicked in—he grabbed Wei Huan’s arm and pulled him to his left. The man fell to the ground, his bottle shattering. But he just clambered up, looking disheveled, and staggered on.

Only then did Wei Huan notice a deep purplish scar on the man’s face. More than purple—it looked like a blend of two colors.

He turned his head, watching the man’s tall, stumbling figure disappear.

His gaze dropped to the ground—there, at his feet, lay a cork.

And shattered glass scattered all around.

He froze for a few seconds—then suddenly, the scene of the battle before his death began replaying before his eyes.

That human child standing in the canyon at the border, pushed out by his own kind—worse than a hostage or bait. Amid the hail of bullets and artillery fire, his frail little body trembled uncontrollably.

As he flew past, Wei Huan caught a glimpse of those terrified, childish eyes.

Green pupils.

It was like electricity shot through his entire body. He turned abruptly, murmuring to himself, “…That child.” His body began to tremble involuntarily. This was the closest he’d ever come, since reincarnation, to someone from the moment of his death.

Yun Yongzhou had no idea what was going on with Wei Huan—he didn’t have the time to care. The moment that drunkard appeared, a sharp pain suddenly pierced his chest, like thousands of needles stabbing into him. It was far beyond anything a poison like Gou Wen could induce.

Though it only lasted a moment—like a heart palpitation—he turned around too. The drunkard from before had already disappeared.

“Don’t go,” Yun Yongzhou panted, gritting his teeth as he removed the trigger device from his neck.

“I…” Wei Huan looked at Yun Yongzhou. He wanted to tell him that the child he’d saved on the battlefield was still alive, that he had just been there—maybe he even knew how Wei Huan had died back then.

No. Wei Huan’s head slowly lowered.

How could he have known?

He was just a weak pawn, used by his own kind.

If he did know, there was no way he’d still be living in the Dark Zone—a place long abandoned by the Fanzhou.

A gentle hand brushed the top of his head. Startled, Wei Huan looked up to meet Yun Yongzhou’s gaze.

“Let’s go back.”

He summoned a boundary-crossing spell with his spiritual power, preparing to take Wei Huan out of the Dark Zone. But when the golden light dissipated, he found himself standing alone in Kunlun Void.

Wei Huan had disappeared.

As soon as he realized Wei Huan had escaped him, Yun Yongzhou’s expression darkened with a rare surge of aggression.

The forty-nine Soul-Cracking Needles embedded in his chest still throbbed faintly.

There was no doubt about it—the scent masked by alcohol on that man’s body was the spiritual aura unique to the Demon-Slaying Masters.

After confirming Yun Yongzhou had left, Wei Huan turned and walked in the direction of the tavern.

Yun Yongzhou didn’t understand how important the truth was to him—and he couldn’t let him get involved.

This was something he had to uncover alone. He couldn’t live peacefully as a human. He had to clear Nine Phoenix’s name.

Before he could reach the tavern, dozens of Fei Birds suddenly appeared in the sky. These demonic birds had three eyes and ears, making them extremely agile. Their wingspans stretched nearly two meters, and they dodged attacks with shocking speed. Appearing in such large numbers, they blotted out the sky and caught Wei Huan completely off guard.

These were Fei Birds that couldn’t take human form—low in rank, but fiercely powerful. They attacked from all directions, frightening the little furball into hiding inside Wei Huan’s sleeve.

“Light Blades—!”

After several trials, the bracelet had become easier to control. The moment the thought surfaced, it split into dozens of light blades that shot into the air, clashing with the vicious birds.

Whenever they were struck, they let out howling roars like tigers, then attacked even more frenziedly.

Their claws were sharp as blades and lightning fast. Wei Huan was surrounded, clumsily wielding his light blades against the swift creatures. No sooner had he downed one on the left then another came roaring in from the right.

Why were there so many here? Just a moment ago, everything had been fine.

There was no time to think. He split the light blades further with his mind. They moved even faster, piercing the chests of one Fei Bird after another. Blood splattered across his cheek as their agonized cries rang out. They intensified their assault—swooping, diving, tearing, sparing no effort. But something felt… off.

Gasping for breath during a lull in the chaos, Wei Huan realized something: despite their ferocity, none of the birds had landed a fatal blow. At most, they’d only clawed his shoulder during the scuffle.

The light blades returned to his side, slicing open the chest of the Fei Bird lunging at him, then streaking like lightning to the left, stabbing through another on command.

They were too fast.

Where had they come from?

Upper right—left—behind!

Exhausted and overwhelmed, Wei Huan suddenly heard a voice.

“9, 6, 1.”

Instinct moved faster than thought. The moment the command registered, muscle memory kicked in, and he spun around, sending a light blade toward the indicated direction.

The code was accurate—Combat Preparedness Group 9, six o’clock, one enemy.

And his blade was pointed straight at Yang Sheng.

As he watched the man raise his hand and lazily wave his palm, every remaining Fei Bird vanished into the sky, leaving behind only the lonely sound of beating wings.

“Wei Huan.”

A sudden wind picked up. The purple Whirlwind Demon Mark spread from Yang Sheng’s neck across the left side of his face, even turning both his eyes violet.

“How much longer did you think you could fool me?”

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