Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 33

This day had finally come.

Despite Wei Huan racking his brain, risking everything to gather evidence to prove his innocence—he was still too late.

His raised hands fell helplessly to his sides. The golden light blades before Yang Sheng faded, returning to his wrist and forming shackles around Wei Huan’s.

He must look exactly like a captured fugitive now.

There was no point hiding anymore. Wei Huan knew well—the reason those Fei Birds didn’t truly harm him was because of Yang Sheng. The entire thing had been a setup.

Yang Sheng hadn’t wanted to hurt him—only to force him into combat, to reveal his fighting style.

They had fought side by side countless times. In the end, it was that very tacit understanding that gave him away.

“Why aren’t you saying anything?” Yang Sheng stepped toward him, one step at a time, purple wind surging in his palm. “What is it, are you still trying to come up with a lie to cover it all up?”

Only when Yang Sheng was right in front of him did Wei Huan realize—he had never actually seen Yang Sheng truly angry before.

In the past twenty-one years, Yang Sheng had always been the one who tolerated him, indulged him—the one who would argue back with him, take the fall with him after he acted recklessly. No matter how outrageous his actions, even if Yang Sheng scolded him harshly, he would still stand in front of him, never leave him alone.

His collar was yanked forcefully, and though Yang Sheng dismissed the wind from his palm, he still punched Wei Huan hard in the face. Even without using his demon strength, as a Bifang, Yang Sheng was naturally stronger than any human. Just one punch left Wei Huan dazed.

“Say something!”

One punch after another.

Each blow was thrown with full strength, leaving Wei Huan barely able to open his eyes, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. He tasted the metallic tang, but couldn’t feel pain—only a suffocating tightness, like hands gripping his throat, rendering him paralyzed.

So much he wanted to say, but not a word would come out.

Yang Sheng shoved him against the wall, one hand clutching his throat, the other still swinging punches. His reason was on the verge of collapse. Years of anger, resentment, and disappointment poured out like a dam breaking.

The more you care, the more it hurts.

Blood clogged his throat, and Wei Huan couldn’t help but cough it up. “Yang Sheng…”

Through the haze, he saw the wound on Yang Sheng’s face, and Yang Sheng unconsciously stopped.

His fingers were clenched so tightly the knuckles had broken skin. He panted heavily, chest rising and falling, eyes locked on the friend he hadn’t seen in seven years.

Wei Huan stared back. Though his face had changed—completely become someone else—his eyes were still the same.

Those very eyes had held him captive for so many years.

Yang Sheng, you’re really f*cking useless.

Wei Huan gritted his teeth. He tried to speak, but Yang Sheng just looked at him with reddened eyes—and laughed.

“Seven years. I searched for you for seven whole years.”

As his words fell, a violet whirlwind suddenly surged, and when it settled, the scene around them had shifted into a wide-open field. The sky was violet, enveloped in purple light.

The wall behind Wei Huan had disappeared—he collapsed onto the grass.

They had left the Dark Zone.

Wei Huan tried to get up, but Yang Sheng’s wind slammed him against a tree. His back hit hard.

He coughed up a mouthful of blood, which spilled onto his newly bought red hoodie.

He reached out to wipe it off, but even his arm was pinned down by the violent gust, unable to lift.

“You’re not talking because you’re stalling for time, waiting for Yun Yongzhou to come save you?”

Yang Sheng sneered, spreading open his palm. In it spun a violet wind orb—Wei Huan recognized it. It was their barrier sphere.

“He can’t come in.” The orb in his palm faded. “This is the Bifang clan’s barrier. Only Bifang blood can pass through. If he tries to force his way in, however much demon power he uses to attack the barrier, it’ll rebound back onto him in full.”

“Give it up.”

Wei Huan panted. Yang Sheng’s wind made it impossible to struggle or even open his eyes.

Truthfully, he didn’t even want to fight back. He could understand exactly how Yang Sheng felt right now.

If it were him, he might have gone even crazier.

“You know,” Yang Sheng’s voice suddenly turned cold, as if that out-of-control man just now wasn’t him at all, “when I received the death-in-duty notification, I thought I was going to retrieve two bodies.”

“My father’s.”

He stepped up to Wei Huan, lifted his chin, a stubborn smile on his lips. “And the best friend I’ve ever had.”

Seven years ago, everyone pitied him. At the funeral, they hugged him with teary eyes, offering comfort—offering the same suffocating words:

[From now on, you are the pillar of the Bifang clan.]

He had watched one person after another toss white flowers into the grave, and yet not a single tear fell from his eyes.

Even though he knew—the man who once held up not only the Bifang clan but all of Fuyao—was truly gone, never again to stand, never again to shield him from the wind and rain.

Everyone said Instructor Yang valued Wei Huan more than his own son Yang Sheng, because his son wasn’t a combat-type demon. No matter how hard he trained, he would always be support. So he chose Wei Huan, passed all his skills to him.

Yang Sheng had grown up hearing that.

But no matter the gossip, he always saw clearly—his father was only nurturing Wei Huan. Especially after Wei Huan’s parents died in battle, even without a dying wish, the deep bond between their families meant his father treated Wei Huan like his own.

Even when people whispered behind his back, saying he wasn’t as cherished as Wei Huan, Yang Sheng never once resented him. He knew those were the words of petty minds. His father loved him, and Wei Huan was his dearest friend.

He had never wanted to surpass Wei Huan, never wanted to be stronger. His only wish was to stay by his side, to be his support forever. In moments of crisis, to send the wind in his palm into Wei Huan’s hand—for him to use.

Then watch him smile. Watch them win, together.

That was all he ever wanted.

A loyal, unwavering heart—unchanged for twenty-one years.

[Nine Phoenix’s Wei Huan has defected.]

“Impossible!” Yang Sheng had immediately rejected it. “He would never betray us. I know him better than anyone! He’d rather die!”

Until he saw that Nine Phoenix military insignia presented by the human enemy during peace talks.

Each demon clan had their own crest. For military families like Nine Phoenix, their crest was engraved into their battle emblem—representing not only their clan’s honor but a vow to fight to the death.

After Wei Huan’s parents died, the Nine Phoenix battle emblem was passed down to him. Once handed over, it was equivalent to casting the generations of loyalty of the entire Nine Phoenix demon clan into the abyss.

This was Wei Huan’s most treasured possession.

“Impossible…” Yang Sheng still couldn’t believe it. He was on the verge of losing control. “Go investigate. They must have stolen it. There’s no way Wei Huan gave it up himself. Ah Huan would never do something like that!”

Until that footage was leaked all over the internet.

Everyone was reposting it. Even then, Yang Sheng still couldn’t wake up from the denial. He went mad searching for his body—day and night—scouring every crevice of the border canyon. As long as he saw someone, he would grab them and ask:

“Have you seen him?”

“Have you seen this person?”

In the end, he didn’t even know what he was doing anymore, what he was holding onto. Maybe it was just that last sliver of unwillingness. Unwilling to accept that Wei Huan had become someone he no longer recognized. Unwilling to lose him in such a disgraceful way.

During those days, he didn’t shed a single tear. He lived like a walking corpse, driven only by one belief:

He had to find Wei Huan’s body.

Later, he even started suffering backlash from his own demon power. His rationality was constantly overpowered. He didn’t know when he’d completely demonize, lose control, be reduced to pure instinct—with no will of his own.

He lived like a monster.

It all ended one day when he lost control and accidentally injured an innocent human.

He was escorted back by fellow clan members. Everyone reprimanded him, reminding him of the heavy burden on his shoulders:

[You still have your mother and a little sister. You have to support the whole family!]

[He’s just a traitor. Look at how many absurd things you’ve done for him!]

[Can you even face your dead father?!]

Targeted by everyone’s accusations, he knelt before his father’s shattered soul monument. He watched as his mother—grief-stricken and hospitalized for days—personally came to take him home, bowing and apologizing on his behalf, saying every kind word she could think of, and led him back.

That day, none of them spread their wings. They silently walked the roads of Kunlun Void. There were many people around, laughing and chatting as usual. Yang Sheng looked at his mother from afar—she seemed to have aged overnight, her hair now white, her back thin and frail.

“Ah Sheng, I heard you stayed in the border canyon for a long time. I know it’s been hard for you…”

“You must be hungry. I cooked for you—everything you like.”

“Your little sister really missed you. She doesn’t cry anymore. She’s very good now and won’t disturb you.” She suddenly stopped walking and turned around.

Her pale face managed a smile.

“Let’s go home.”

That was when the tears finally burst out. After all the days following his father and best friend’s deaths, Yang Sheng knelt down and cried uncontrollably for the first time. Everyone in the street was watching, but he cried like a child, unable to get up no matter how hard he tried.

From that day on, he began to accept all the judgments from the outside world.

Because he knew—it was time to give up.

In those seven years, he learned to restrain his emotions, to let go, to become a mature adult who could bear everything.

But the moment he saw Wei Huan standing in front of him again, Yang Sheng only felt irony.

He still couldn’t control himself.

“In the end, I only found my father’s remains. No,” he shook his head, “just pieces of him—couldn’t even piece together a complete corpse.”

He forced himself into a calm posture, like he was telling a story that had nothing to do with anyone. “You know? Even in his final moment—surrounded and torn apart by countless humans—he was still trying to contact the battle headquarters. He even managed to send out a signal spell—because he wanted to save you. He didn’t want you to die on the battlefield!”

“And you?”

A punch landed hard.

“Answer me! Where were you then?!”

Wei Huan gasped heavily. “I…”

I don’t know.

I have no memory.

That final battle before death replayed in his mind again, like a nightmare lodged in his chest. It kept resurfacing, stabbing at his heart. But he could never offer a complete truth.

“Can’t say it?” Yang Sheng’s gaze was sharp. “Or do you just not want to?”

Faint cracking sounds rang in his ears, but Yang Sheng ignored them completely.

“You had so many chances to tell me. When you fought with Yang Ling, I brought her to apologize to you. In the hospital room, it was just you and me!”

He tried to calm himself, the demon markings on his neck crawling up alongside bulging veins—but he forced them back down.

“And later, at the Hero Monument… You just wouldn’t speak. You avoided me…”

“Yang Ling is your god sister. You spent every day with her. Not once—not even once—did you wonder what it was like for her to grow up these past years?”

Every word stabbed deep into Wei Huan’s heart.

Yang Sheng let out a cold laugh. “I knew from the first time I met you that you weren’t ordinary. I knew your intentions weren’t pure. So I started investigating you right from the start—watching you, even following you. I just wanted to see when you’d finally slip up.”

“You think these twenty years by your side, I was blind? Wei Huan, you really think you’re that clever? That certain I wouldn’t recognize you?”

“Let me tell you—no matter if you were reduced to ashes—I would never forget your face!”

He had indeed underestimated how well Yang Sheng knew him—and overestimated his own disguise.

Wei Huan weakly opened his mouth. “I hid it from you because I didn’t want to drag you down.”

“Drag me down?” Yang Sheng suddenly laughed, louder and louder. “Wei Huan, haven’t you dragged me down enough?”

Yang Sheng’s eyes were bloodshot, his voice breaking. “You were alive. You even came back…”

The cracking sounds around them grew louder and more frequent.

Yang Sheng murmured to himself, repeating “Why?” again and again.

His consciousness began to slip. His demon markings once again distorted, bulging alongside the veins at his neck.

“Why did you lie to me again!” In an instant, half of his face was overtaken by demon markings, making him look terrifyingly savage. His fingernails extended, nearly digging into Wei Huan’s skin. With one hand gripping his throat, he lifted Wei Huan completely off the ground. “Why!”

Wei Huan could clearly sense Yang Sheng’s demon transformation.

He had never been like this before. For high-bloodline demons like them, such loss of control was extremely rare.

What was going on?

“Yang Sheng… you…” Gripped tightly, Wei Huan was almost suffocating, his face flushed red.

The wind around them grew increasingly violent, as if it had developed its own consciousness. Wei Huan watched as the current of wind coiled around Yang Sheng like a purple dragon made of air, trapping even him inside.

“Why did you lie to me…”

His voice had changed, now deep and echoing, and his eyes turned a dark purple. His facial expression was no longer under control.

“Yang Sheng… calm down…” Oxygen was diminishing. Wei Huan tried to grasp Yang Sheng’s arm. “I… I really didn’t…”

The wind current lifted the short blade at Yang Sheng’s waist and, wrapped in its force, drove it straight into Wei Huan’s chest.

A mouthful of blood sprayed out. The bright red splattered onto Yang Sheng’s hand, the one still gripping Wei Huan’s neck.

“Yang Sheng…” Wei Huan’s brows furrowed deeply. He weakly reached toward Yang Sheng, eyes moist.

Blood.

Wei Huan’s blood.

Yang Sheng could clearly feel the purple wind weakening.

“I didn’t… betray anyone…”

“Be… believe me…”

He looked at the familiar yet unfamiliar body before him, pierced by a blade, deep red blood staining the clothes, soaking into a large patch.

Wei Huan’s fingers gradually loosened.

The violent purple storm that had trapped them slowly dispersed. The wind that had carried the short blade away released it—it clattered to the ground. The demon markings faded from Yang Sheng’s face, and clarity returned to his eyes.

He had never meant to hurt him.

The sound of shattering echoed again—only this time, louder than ever.

Yang Sheng opened his palm. The barrier orb reappeared. Cracks spread across it as red demon energy leaked outward.

Finally, it burst.

All that remained in his palm was golden light and a pile of purple shards.

“Crazy b*stard,” he cursed quietly, clenching his fist.

Wei Huan held his chest, pressing down hard on the wound. He knew Yang Sheng hadn’t aimed to kill. He hadn’t even been fully conscious. If Yang Sheng had truly wanted him dead, he wouldn’t have stabbed and still missed the heart.

D*mn it, useless. The now-clear-headed Yang Sheng mocked himself. Even after demonizing, even after losing control—he still couldn’t go all the way.

Clenching his teeth, he grabbed Wei Huan by the front of his shirt and dragged him forward, forcing him to his knees. “You want me to believe you?”

“Fine. Swear it to him.”

Wei Huan looked up. Before him stood a tombstone.

On it was a black-and-white photo of Instructor Yang, along with his name and birth and death dates.

Yang Sheng half-knelt and pressed Wei Huan’s back down. “Swear. If you’re lying—even one word—my father’s soul will never rest, and your Nine Phoenix clan will be forever cursed and spat on.”

He paused, then laughed and added: “And I, Yang Sheng, will die on the battlefield, my body torn apart with no grave to rest in.”

Wei Huan turned toward Yang Sheng, stunned. He was this ruthless? He knew he’d one day return to the battlefield, yet he still made a vow with his life.

All just to force him.

“Say it.”

Wei Huan’s eyes stung. Flashes of the past—Instructor Yang guiding him hand in hand—played vividly in his mind.

“I swear,” His left hand dug into the ground, his right pressed to his chest. Head lowered, teeth chattering, every word trembled with restrained emotion. “I, Wei Huan, did not betray our side. I never intended to harm Instructor Yang. Not for a moment. I fought for Fuyao, for Shanhai, until my last breath. I died with a clean heart and clear conscience.”

“I will find the evidence. I will prove my innocence.”

Red-rimmed eyes looked up at Yang Sheng. Wei Huan raised his hand to the sky. “If anything I said just now was false—may my parents’ souls never find peace. May the Nine Phoenix clan be forever cursed. And I, Wei Huan…”

Yang Sheng watched him take a deep breath, firm and sincere, every word carrying weight.

“I, Wei Huan, will return to the battlefield again. No matter how many times I’m reborn—each time, I will die in pieces, with no grave to be buried in.”

As he finished his words, the pale, unfamiliar face before Yang Sheng seemed to blend with the unruly boy from the past. A smile appeared, his sharp canines slightly showing, his eyes full of light.

“Do you believe me now?”

Wei Huan felt all his strength slipping away, like sand through fingers. Though his body didn’t feel an intense pain, his emotions could find no anchor, no healing.

Grace repaid with betrayal. Life and death between teacher and friend.

He was just a carefree child when he first learned that phrase. He had only pitied those who lived through it, thinking their lives must have been full of sorrow.

Youth knows not sorrow—but in the end, every word proved true on his own skin.

Yang Sheng stared at him. Just as he was about to lose consciousness and speak again, dozens of light blades stabbed into the ground between them.

That madman finally showed up.

Yang Sheng stood and turned to the sky. The barrier, faintly glowing purple, had already shattered, dissolving into wind.

Just as he expected, the man had covered all his injuries before showing up.

Yang Sheng really wondered—if that man were dying one day, would he still act composed in front of Wei Huan?

“So you came after all.”

He had barely finished the sentence when Yun Yongzhou raised his hand and swung fiercely. A wall of flame rose, cutting Yang Sheng off and preventing him from getting close.

Wei Huan looked up, but his vision was blurred—his eyes unfocused and everything before him was swaying. He really wanted to see who had come, but his fading consciousness no longer allowed him to concentrate. His eyelids grew heavy; each time he lifted them, they sank again with weight.

Finally, he collapsed to the ground, his palm soaked in his own blood.

He had held on for so long, but the moment Wei Huan fell, Yang Sheng’s nose stung.

Still, he forced himself to stay composed.

Yun Yongzhou picked Wei Huan up in his arms coldly, not uttering a single unnecessary word.

As he approached, Yang Sheng caught a strong whiff of blood—thick and pungent—not human, but of a golden crow.

As they brushed past each other, Yang Sheng couldn’t help but speak:

“You knew all along—and you still lied to me.”

The barrier teleportation spell was already open, and Yun Yongzhou was nearly inside the red circle when he turned back.

The blazing wall of fire distorted Yang Sheng’s figure and face, obscuring the pain and turmoil on it.

“What you least want to admit… is that you always believed in him.”

Even without a single reason. Even with every piece of evidence pointing to him, conclusive and d*mning, every word cutting deep.

Everyone told you it was him who betrayed Shanhai. It was him who lured your father into the ambush. It was him who nearly caused you to lose control and fully demonize. But deep down, you still refused to believe it.

This kind of vague, weightless, even foolish trust has tormented you day and night for seven years.

You should have taken revenge. Or completely forgotten him—for Bifang’s sake, cast aside the past and started anew. Become a great demon who could stand on his own, just like your father.

You should have treated it as if… that old friend never existed.

The firewall dissipated, revealing Yang Sheng’s face. Yun Yongzhou’s voice remained cold as ever, distant like a voice from beyond the heavens:

“The one who trapped you, the one who forced you, the one you’ve hated for seven years—was yourself.”

Fists clenched.

He bit his molars hard.

Yang Sheng turned his head stubbornly, gazing at his father’s tombstone.

What do you know?

What do you even understand…

His eyes began to blur, and the ache in his chest drowned him. In his vision, he saw two small children playing on the grassy lawn.

One had dark blue wings and sat on the steps crying—wiping tears with small hands, both stubborn and heartbroken.

The other had tiny black wings, cute like a little pink dumpling, flitting about trying to cheer him up. After a while, he landed in front of him, speaking in a babyish voice:

“Little Sheng, don’t cry. My daddy said boys shouldn’t cry so easily.”

“But I… I…” The little boy sobbed, his red face scrunched tight, unable to say a full sentence. “The doctor said… I don’t have Bifang fire… I can’t create fire anymore…”

“So what!” Little Wei Huan grabbed his hand and pried it open—inside that soft palm was a tiny, fragile swirl of wind, as if it could disperse at any moment.

“Look! You can make wind! Whoosh whoosh—bam!” Little Wei Huan pretended to be Yang Sheng shooting wind, then flew off to play the bad guy getting knocked down.

After finishing his roleplay, he flapped back anxiously to Yang Sheng’s side. “See! You’re amazing—you blew all the bad guys away! Super strong!”

“But…” his tears wouldn’t stop, “but wind isn’t strong at all… and you said… fire is more…”

“Not true!”

Little Wei Huan lifted Yang Sheng’s hand, pressing his own small hand against it. Light purple wind gently twined around their fingertips.

He smiled sweetly, pulled his hand back into a chubby little fist.

“Guess what’s inside?”

Yang Sheng, sobbing, forgot to cry for a moment. He hiccuped and blinked at the small fist. “What is it…”

“Look.”

Little Wei Huan opened his palm. A purple butterfly flapped its wings and danced out, fluttering gently before landing on Yang Sheng’s red nose.

“Your wind is amazing,” Little Wei Huan grabbed both of Yang Sheng’s hands, his bright eyes full of strength. “You can make wind—I can use wind to make things. I’ll become stronger too. One day, whatever you want, I’ll be able to make it.”

“As long as we’re together, we’ll be the strongest!”

He smiled so brightly, little canine teeth gleaming in the sunlight.

“Really?” Yang Sheng sniffled. “Will we always be together?”

“Of course!”

A child couldn’t say anything too poetic, so he just repeated it again and again.

“You’re my best, best, best, best friend.” Little Wei Huan hugged him, gently patting his back with tiny hands.

“Remember that, okay?”

Author’s Note:

I’m famously protective of my characters. You can analyze the plot, but I can’t stand people cursing the characters. Don’t interpret a character from your own viewpoint only—at least try to stand in their shoes. It’s irresponsible otherwise.