Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 34

Yang Sheng quietly knelt before his father’s grave. Too many words were buried in his chest. Every time he faced a moment like this, he would imagine—if his father were still here, what would he say? What would he do?

He really had tried so hard… to become someone like his father.

“Brother…”

Upon hearing Yang Ling’s voice, Yang Sheng took a deep breath and silently wiped the blood off the back of his hand. Though he didn’t turn around, his voice was calm and gentle.

“What is it?”

Yang Ling stood behind him. “Did you open the barrier just now? Brother Buyu came to find you. He told me to let him in, so I came to ask you.”

Yang Sheng let out a soft laugh.

One after another, they were all the same.

They all knew, yet not a single one told him.

Did they all see him as a monster, all so afraid he’d get close to Wei Huan?

“You can tell Buyu there’s no need to come in,” Yang Sheng stood up. “The person he wanted to see has already been taken away.”

“He’s too late.”

The person he wanted to see?

Yang Ling was full of confusion. She didn’t understand why her brother suddenly set up a barrier around the family tomb, nor why that barrier had broken. The Bifang clan’s barriers were incredibly strong, with intense backlash. Aside from being highly defensive, they could also inflict nearly equal damage on attackers. Especially when the one who constructed it was a great demon like her brother—the effect should have been the best.

If even her brother’s barrier had shattered, the person who broke through it must’ve been seriously injured.

She remembered how Brother Buyu had rushed in, his expression anxious, repeatedly asking her for permission. Having grown up beside him, she had never seen him so flustered before.

What on earth had happened?

The atmosphere grew heavy and awkward. Yang Ling stared at her brother’s back and noticed the demonic patterns on the side of his neck—a sign of transformation. It had been a long time since the last time he lost control.

She wanted to ask something but, in the end, said nothing.

Wei Huan thought he’d be unconscious for a long time this time too, but he woke up fairly quickly. As for why he was so aware of the passage of time—it was because when he opened his eyes, he saw Yun Yongzhou with his back to him, bandaging his wounds. Just his back alone was covered with deep and shallow cuts, none of them healed yet.

If he had stayed unconscious any longer, he might not have seen the injuries on Yun Yongzhou at all.

His head was spinning, and all he could see in his mind was Yang Sheng’s form after he transformed. He had been dead for seven years, a total blank for him. When he woke up, his memory was still stuck at age twenty-one. But for those still alive, those seven years must have been painfully long. Wei Huan couldn’t bear to imagine what they had been like.

Yang Sheng was right—he really shouldn’t have lied to him.

On the table was a messy pile of medication. Wei Huan touched his left chest. As expected, his wound had already been dressed.

Strangely enough, it didn’t hurt at all.

At first, he suspected maybe this human body had been altered by those deranged researchers, dulling his pain sensitivity. But thinking back, that wasn’t the case—during the freshman entrance competition, he had clearly felt pain when he got hurt.

Thinking about it, the change started after the pact was formed.

He had heard of the powerful effects of the Reverse Soul Fruit, but no one had ever mentioned that it could eliminate pain.

His gaze landed on Yun Yongzhou’s back.

There seemed to be only one remaining possibility—though it felt a bit self-important. It was the least likely possibility of all.

Lying in bed, Wei Huan quietly watched Yun Yongzhou apply medicine to the wound on his right arm. Then he clumsily tried to wrap it with gauze using his left hand—no matter how he tried, he couldn’t get it right. He accidentally pulled too much and even knocked a pair of scissors off the table.

Clang.

Even Yun Yongzhou got startled, immediately turning around to check if he’d woken Wei Huan up.

But when he turned, he found Wei Huan wide-eyed, staring at him. The little furball that always hid in his sleeve had cautiously crawled out to stare too.

Frozen for a few seconds, Yun Yongzhou pretended nothing had happened and calmly turned back to put on a shirt—but the blue T-shirt had already been shredded by light blades and soaked with blood. He raised his hand, then lowered it again, heading for the wardrobe to fetch a new one.

“I’ll help you,” Wei Huan lifted the blanket and got out of bed, walking toward him.

“No need.”

Hearing Yun Yongzhou refuse, he hurried his steps, plopping into the chair opposite and grabbing his wrist. Seeing the horrifying wound on his arm, his heart trembled.

Besides his own light blade, probably nothing else could injure Yun Yongzhou this badly.

Every time he saw Yun Yongzhou hurt for his sake, he felt more and more guilty. And the more guilty he felt, the less he dared to tell him the truth. He couldn’t be sure why Yun Yongzhou did all this—if it was because of this human identity he now had, then he truly couldn’t bear to shatter that illusion.

If he really liked this shell that much, then once he returned to his true form, he could just give this body to him.

But surely he wanted to love a living person, right? And he didn’t even know if he could ever return to being the Nine Phoenix again, or how long he’d be stuck in this body. Yet continuing to hide it made him feel more and more like a thief. The more Yun Yongzhou did for him, the more it felt like stolen kindness.

Could it be… Yun Yongzhou had already guessed his true identity?

Feigning casualness, he asked, “Instructor Yun, do you know why Instructor Yang took me away today?”

He regretted it the moment he asked. It was meant to be a test, but the way he said it made it sound more like a challenge.

As always, Yun Yongzhou said nothing. Oddly, this silence made Wei Huan feel at ease. He fell back on his usual joking tone, grinning foolishly, “Weird, right? I didn’t even do anything to him, and suddenly he got so mad.”

Wei Huan’s face was covered in bruises, and his swollen lip made it hard to talk.

“Your injuries are really bad… Wonder how long they’ll take to heal.” He smiled apologetically. “Finally get a break, and I keep dragging you into trouble.”

Seeing Wei Huan talking nonstop, seemingly in good spirits, Yun Yongzhou let out a silent breath of relief.

The moment he sensed Wei Huan entering the Bifang barrier, he knew he was a step too late. Wei Huan didn’t know about Yang Sheng’s post-transformation instability, but Yun Yongzhou did—and that was why he had never wanted to take any risks, hoping to wait for the right time to tell him.

But Yang Sheng had still acted first.

“You think I didn’t know it was you who broke the barrier?” Wei Huan lowered his head, carefully sprinkling medicinal powder and spreading it out over Yun Yongzhou’s arm. His voice was soft, unlike his usual self. “I actually knew.”

Yun Yongzhou remained silent.

“Thank you.”

He didn’t want Wei Huan to thank him—didn’t even want Wei Huan to know any of this.

Wei Huan bent down to pick up the scissors from the floor. He had lost too much blood, and when he stood up, his head spun. He had to steady himself for a moment before carefully cutting the gauze and wrapping it around Yun Yongzhou’s arm, properly covering the wound.

This kind of thing wasn’t new to him. Back when they were in the same combat prep team, both Yun Yongzhou, as the main attacker, and Wei Huan, often bore the brunt of enemy fire and were usually the most seriously injured in the team.

Combat Preparedness Prep Group Seven of Shanhai usually had four to five members. The team consisted of Wei Huan, Yang Sheng, Su Buyu, and Yun Yongzhou—a combination assigned by the academy after analyzing their power levels and tactical compatibility. Occasionally, a wood-type healing demon with decent combat ability would be added, but such demons were rare in Shanhai. Moreover, since they were children of high-level demon bloodlines, their self-healing ability was strong, so most of the time, the group only had four members. Wei Huan was the vanguard, Yun Yongzhou the assassin, Yang Sheng the support, and Su Buyu—with water and spatial powers—was typically responsible for clean-up.

Compared to other groups, Group Seven was somewhat special. Everyone knew Wei Huan and Yang Sheng were childhood friends and that Su Buyu had been under Wei Huan’s wing since high school. The three had always been close. Only Yun Yongzhou—both in the eyes of others and in his own—was the odd one out.

Wei Huan could still remember clearly what Yun Yongzhou looked like when he was first assigned to Group Seven.

After the group assignments, everyone would gather in the gym for their first team training. The assignments were usually communicated individually, so only during this training would they formally meet their teammates.

It was no surprise that Wei Huan and Yang Sheng were placed together—their abilities were highly complementary, making them much stronger as a team. Naturally, they should be paired. The two of them headed to the gym together, plopped down cross-legged under the sign for Combat Preparedness Prep Group Seven, and started playing demon cards without a care.

“Nine-Tailed Foxfire!” Yang Sheng drew a card and slapped it onto the floor in front of Wei Huan.

“Pfft, so what if it’s Foxfire?” Wei Huan peeked carefully at his hand, then triumphantly pulled one out and tossed it down. “I’ve got the Jiao Emperor!”

“You two are having way too much fun.”

Looking up, they saw Su Buyu approaching, swinging a No. 7 team card in his hand, dimples showing as he smiled.

“Holy cr*p! Buyu!” Wei Huan got so excited he tossed all his cards, jumped up, and hugged Su Buyu. “They really put you with us!”

Yang Sheng, acting like a nagging mom, started gathering the scattered cards while muttering, “You said Jiao Emperor and it really showed up… Wei Huan’s mouth must be blessed.”

“So…” Su Buyu glanced at the other teams, most of which were already full. “We’re still short a person, right?”

Yang Sheng nodded. “The seniors said each prep team typically has two main combatants. We’re still missing one.”

“No worries. Your bro Huan here is good for two people.” Wei Huan stretched lazily, then pressed his hands together like he was praying. “Let’s hope it’s a girl—mixed teams work better, you know?”

Yang Sheng jabbed, “And what if it’s a buff girl?”

Wei Huan paused, then pressed his palms together tighter, shut his eyes, bowed his head, and chanted, “Please let it be a pretty one, the prettiest, the prettiest, the prettiest…”

Just as he was chanting enthusiastically, Yang Sheng elbowed him. “Hey, hey, hey.”

“What?” Wei Huan looked up—and across the gym, someone was walking toward them in a Flame Division uniform. It was Yun Yongzhou, expressionless as usual.

At the very moment Wei Huan looked up, their eyes met.

Those eyes were really beautiful.

“Wei Huan’s mouth really is blessed,” Yang Sheng could barely hold in his laughter, slinging an arm around Wei Huan. “Didn’t you ask for the prettiest? Look, you got what you asked for, haha!”

Wei Huan pushed him off, annoyed. “You’re so annoying, you know that?”

“I didn’t know.”

“Well, now you do. You’re really, really annoying.”

“My deepest apologies.” Yang Sheng turned to joke with Su Buyu, only to notice he seemed distracted, eyes locked on Wei Huan. He waved a hand. “What’s wrong?”

Su Buyu snapped out of it. “It’s nothing… I…” He smiled gently. “I just want to be a main combatant too.”

“But you’re already super strong,” Yang Sheng pinched his shoulder. “Honestly, even if this team had no second main fighter, Wei Huan could sort of hold it down. But without you for cleanup, we’d be screwed.”

Yun Yongzhou approached and crumpled his No. 7 team card.

“We must really be fated,” Wei Huan leaned close to him. “I was just saying I wanted someone strong, and here you are. Heaven’s really got my back.”

No matter what Wei Huan said, Yun Yongzhou didn’t respond. Not until the instructor arrived—then he asked to switch teams.

Word spread through the gym like wildfire.

“Yun Yongzhou wants to switch groups? Come to ours!”

“Keep dreaming. If he won’t team up with Wei Huan, why would he join your no-name group?”

“Haven’t they always been at odds? It’s been like that since day one.”

“But Group Seven’s setup is insane—Yang Sheng and Wei Huan together is already overpowered, Su Buyu’s Jiao Pearl is strong too. Add Yun Yongzhou? That’s a god-tier lineup.”

“Their looks are god-tier too.”

The instructor opened a holographic screen, looking troubled. “These team assignments were made after extensive assessment and deliberation. Student Yun, how about this—you temporarily stick with the arrangement. We reassess after every mission, and if compatibility is really lacking, we’ll reassign as needed.”

In the end, Yun Yongzhou still compromised.

To everyone, Yun Yongzhou was the one who never quite fit into Combat Preparedness Group 7’s team. He himself was well aware of this position. He had always been a loner since childhood and was long used to being on his own, so he hardly ever took the initiative to interact with the others in the group—even in combat, he always acted solo.

Wei Huan came from a military family and was born with a knack for leading in battle. But when faced with someone so stubbornly uncooperative, the entire team just had to bear the consequences.

After the first few missions, everyone came back battered and bruised. Sometimes there wasn’t even time to return to the school infirmary, and they had to treat their wounds out in the field.

At such times, Yun Yongzhou always sat alone in some corner.

He had never had friends growing up. Everyone knew he was the youngest son of the Golden Crow family, and many people approached him because of it, motives mixed and unclear. Because of this, his father had long forbidden him from casually making friends outside.

The trio—Wei Huan, Yang Sheng, and Su Buyu—were always lively, which made Yun Yongzhou’s solitude stand out even more. Yet even so, he didn’t want to lower himself to win anyone’s favor.

Because of his fighting style, most of Yun Yongzhou’s injuries were concentrated on his chest and lower torso. He had to take off his combat uniform and sit bare-chested on the steps, draping a school shirt over his back.

“Hey.”

Yun Yongzhou looked up. Something was tossed his way. He instinctively activated his light blade and sliced it clean in half in mid-air.

Looking down at the halved fruit on the ground and the stunned expression on Wei Huan’s face, Yun Yongzhou felt a bit guilty—but didn’t want to show it.

“Aw, what a waste…” Wei Huan pouted as he squatted and looked at the ruined fruit. “I hadn’t even eaten one myself.”

Yun Yongzhou looked away, not wanting to face Wei Huan’s pitiful act. He picked up the medicinal powder again to sprinkle on his wound, but his hand was too unsteady and ended up spilling it all over himself.

This guy has too many walls up, Wei Huan thought as he sat down beside him.

Yun Yongzhou frowned and tried to get up, but Wei Huan lightly bound his wrist with a strand of wind silk and tugged him back. “No running.”

Digging into the emergency kit, Wei Huan glanced at Yun Yongzhou. “Young Master Yun, I’m gonna grab your hand now.”

At those words, Yun Yongzhou immediately scowled and glared at him. Seeing this, Wei Huan lowered his head, smiling with pursed lips. “If I didn’t give you a heads-up, I was afraid you’d slice me with your light blade.”

Saying that, he gently took Yun Yongzhou’s wrist and turned it over, dipping a cotton swab in the medicine and applying it bit by bit to the wound. The blue liquid spread out along the grain of his skin, creating an oddly beautiful pattern.

There was a long gash on Yun Yongzhou’s arm that stretched up to his shoulder. When the wind lifted his shirt, it was clearly visible—very serious.

Wei Huan softly asked again, “Can I… take your shirt off?” His hesitant tone made the question sound more suggestive. “It’s in the way, not convenient.”

Yun Yongzhou was about to pull his arm back, but a sudden breeze lifted the shirt draped over his back. The white shirt floated in the air, caught by blue wind silk, and landed lightly on Wei Huan’s shoulder.

“It was the wind that moved first.”

Wei Huan chuckled as he sprinkled medicinal powder on Yun Yongzhou’s arm. The wound was long and hard to wrap, so he worked with extreme care. Yun Yongzhou could even feel the heat of his breath on his skin—more sensitive than the powder.

“Hey, you’ve got a cut on your face too,” Wei Huan said, leaning closer with a cotton swab and pointing to the corner of his own mouth. “Me too, look. Don’t know if it’ll leave a scar.”

Yun Yongzhou’s wound was near his temple, right beneath his flame-patterned mark. Wei Huan tended to it carefully, oblivious to how close they were.

And he didn’t notice that in this position, his own wounded mouth was only inches from Yun Yongzhou’s eyes. Nor did he realize how his lips unconsciously pressed together when he focused—and how he would habitually lick them after holding that expression too long.

Yun Yongzhou noticed all of it.

He lowered his eyes, telling himself he should stop this now. But the guy in front of him had too many tricks up his sleeve—calling it off probably wouldn’t work anyway.

“All done.”

Wei Huan clapped his hands, packed up the supplies, and tossed the shirt back to Yun Yongzhou. “Put it on. Don’t pull on the wound.” He glanced sideways at himself and saw blood oozing from his shoulder again. “Looks like I pulled mine open.”

“Don’t apply medicine to me again.”

After all that work and not even a “thank you.” Wei Huan laughed. “Fine.” He clapped his hands and raised an eyebrow. “Once you stop being helpless and learn to dress your own wounds, I won’t bother you again.”

Later on, Yun Yongzhou gradually got used to letting Wei Huan tend his injuries. Wei Huan always managed to appear when he was around, reducing his alone time more and more. Whenever he had a quiet moment, his mind was full of Wei Huan calling him “Little Golden Crow.”

Eventually, he became part of the center of the group’s energy too.

Sometimes Wei Huan would have wounds he couldn’t reach himself. Even though there were others more suited to help, he always made sure Yun Yongzhou did it.

But every time, Yun Yongzhou was a little rough, causing Wei Huan to grimace. Still, he would smile and say he did it on purpose and it didn’t hurt at all. Wei Huan always mixed truth and lies, which made it hard for Yun Yongzhou to tell. So he’d always try to be gentler next time.

Wei Huan noticed this too. So later on, he stopped teasing too much, afraid he’d make him overly anxious.

As the memories faded, Wei Huan looked at the person in front of him. Seven years had passed—he was far more mature now, a commanding instructor at the academy. But no matter how much time passed, whenever he looked at Yun Yongzhou, he always fell into the illusion that he was still that strange, quiet boy from back then.

What he didn’t know was that while he was reminiscing, Yun Yongzhou was remembering too—those past days of patching each other up, so vivid that even now, with his eyes closed, he could still trace the outline of Wei Huan’s body.

The sharp lines of his jaw, the slender, lean lines of his shoulders and neck, the blue Nine-Turn Phoenix mark on his collarbone, the faintly protruding shoulder blades, and his eyelashes that trembled ever so slightly when he looked down to apply the medicine.

“Lift your arm, I’ll wrap it for you.”

Yun Yongzhou raised his arm somewhat awkwardly, allowing Wei Huan to take the long gauze and wrap it around his back from his chest, his hands encircling his torso, crossing again from behind—one loop after another—in a position nearly indistinguishable from an embrace.

The atmosphere grew too quiet. Yun Yongzhou spoke in a low voice, “Are you feeling unwell anywhere?”

Wei Huan had originally planned an answer, but the words changed as they came out, “You should already know.”

Tying the gauze at his side near his ribs, he looked up, meeting Yun Yongzhou’s eyes, “Instructor Yun, blood pacts don’t just let you sense each other’s locations. They also share pain, right?”

Those amber eyes were clear enough to see every trace of unprepared emotion—and the unfamiliar face that didn’t belong to him.

His mood suddenly dipped.

Just now, for a moment, he had seriously been considering the possibility that Yun Yongzhou liked this human body of his. But for some reason, thinking that made his heart ache a little, and that confused him.

After all, he didn’t like men. He didn’t like Yun Yongzhou.

His chest felt tight, controlled by a strange, unfamiliar emotion.

Yun Yongzhou parted his lips, wanting to explain something, but once again the moment was seized away from him.

“There’s also one more thing…”

“Can it be undone?”

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