Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 37

Like a spring released, the moment Wei Huan saw Yun Yongzhou, he sprang to his feet. His mind was blank, but his body acted on instinct—he turned and bolted. A full-on reflex.

“Hey, Ah Heng…”

Head down, Wei Huan didn’t look back. “Put this one on my tab, I’ll treat you next time older brother swears.”

He hadn’t even made it out from under the umbrella when something wrapped tightly around his wrist. He looked down—just seeing that light-rope made him deeply, terribly regretful.

Caught red-handed, what was there to say? He turned around awkwardly, grinning at the two men approaching. “Good day, instructors, you’ve worked hard. Long time no see.”

The moment his eyes met Yang Sheng’s, the latter looked away with clear disinterest. It was awkward. Ever since their last confrontation, Wei Huan hadn’t had a chance to speak properly with him. Who would’ve thought their reunion would be… like this.

Yun Yongzhou, on the other hand, kept staring at him, gaze cold and dangerous. Not someone to mess with.

Come on, I didn’t even break any rules. I didn’t leave the campus, I didn’t sneak into Shangshan—what did I do?

Wei Huan gave him a look, then pointed at the light-rope around his wrist, mouthing silently in that awkward atmosphere: Come on, unlock it.

No luck. The rejection was absolute.

Yang Sheng pulled out a chair beside Jing Yun and sat down, scaring the latter into scooting his chair away, hands gripping the seat tight.

“You’re that scared of me?” Yang Sheng glanced at him, then at Wei Huan. “This guy tied you to a chair and you’re still laughing with him?”

Jing Yun and Wei Huan looked at each other, shaking their heads in perfect sync. “No, no, no…”

A breeze of purple wind suddenly blew Jing Yun’s chair right back to Yang Sheng’s side.

Yang Sheng spoke—addressing Jing Yun, but staring hard at Wei Huan. “Is it that Fuyou’s classmates aren’t friendly enough, or its instructors aren’t competent, that you hang around Yansui’s students every day?”

What the h*ll? Wei Huan almost rolled up his sleeves—but his hands were still tied by the rope, couldn’t even lift them.

I used to be from Fuyou too! What’s the big deal?

Before he could retort, Yun Yongzhou stepped into the battlefield, voice cold: “What’s wrong with Yansui?”

Leaning against the umbrella’s support pole, he looked down at Yang Sheng with disdain. “Can’t compete with Fuyou?”

Oof…

“…Maybe just a tiny bit…” Wei Huan muttered, but when the rope on his wrist tightened, he quickly corrected himself, “It’s a bit hot today, right Jing Yun?”

Caught in the battlefield with no escape, Jing Yun nodded furiously. “Right, right, right.”

Wait a sec—why does this vibe feel so weird?

Wei Huan’s eyes darted back and forth between Yang Sheng and Yun Yongzhou. Something must’ve happened between them. It wasn’t like this before—why were they suddenly sniping at each other?

“Even your own students say Yansui can’t match Fuyou.” Yang Sheng shot Yun Yongzhou a lazy glance. “What more is there to say?”

Yun Yongzhou went quiet. And weirdly enough, every time he got mad, Wei Huan felt it first.

So he stepped forward quickly, trying to show his loyalty. “Who said that? Not me. Definitely not me.”

He shuffled up to Yun Yongzhou. “Yansui’s great! Best-looking instructors in all of Shanhai!”

Feeling the light-rope loosen, Wei Huan glanced down. Sure enough—it was gone. He silently praised himself a hundred times. What a master of reading the room.

“Is that so?” Yang Sheng summoned a small purple windball in his palm, clenched it shut so it vanished, then opened his hand again and it reappeared. “Then if Yansui is so great, why is someone so eager to transfer to Fuyou?”

That hit Wei Huan like a slap. “Who—who said they wanted to go to Fuyou?”

Yang Sheng smirked. “Who I am speaking of, I think they know.”

Turning to the side, he noticed Jing Yun staring longingly at the windball in his hand, pitiful like a bunny sniffing out a carrot.

Yang Sheng casually flicked his hand, and the little windball floated gently over to Jing Yun. Jing Yun lit up like a Christmas tree, both hands cupping it like a treasure, beaming with delight.

“Do I need to speak on someone else’s behalf just to express what they’re thinking?”

Cr*p. This guy—Yang Sheng—is really something…

Don’t say that in front of Yun Yongzhou! If he hears it, I’m finished.

Wei Huan was still panicking when Yun Yongzhou spoke first, his voice cold: “You talk too much.”

Yang Sheng sneered, “A guilty conscience.”

Yun Yongzhou replied blandly, “Passive-aggressive.”

Yang Sheng almost slammed the table, “Fishing in troubled waters!”

…Wait a second…

What kind of nonsensical idiom chain is this?

Wei Huan thought he was the one at the center of this warzone, only to find out these two were about to go at each other first. That couldn’t happen—if this kept up, they’d actually start fighting here.

Remembering the demon hunter he saw earlier through Jing Yun’s borrowed sight, and all the things about his concealed identity, Wei Huan figured he needed to talk to Yang Sheng in private.

Taking advantage of the moment when the light cord had unwrapped, he hurried to Yang Sheng’s side and tugged on his arm. “Instructor Yang, I need to talk to you alone about something. Could you come with me?”

Yang Sheng gave him a sideways glance, “You say go and I just go? Who do you think you are?”

“Instructor Yang, give me some face.” Wei Huan gave a tight-lipped smile and lowered his voice in a subtle threat, “Don’t push me. I think Jing Yun would love to hear some stories from your childhood.”

Yang Sheng: …

Fine, you win.

He was dragged off by Wei Huan. The little wind ball in Jing Yun’s hands floated out from his fingers to follow Yang Sheng, and Jing Yun panicked, calling out.

Yang Sheng waved a hand behind him, and the little purple wind ball obediently returned to Jing Yun’s hands. Yun Yongzhou took the seat across from Jing Yun, the one Wei Huan had just vacated.

Wei Huan found it odd that Yun Yongzhou didn’t try to stop him from dragging Yang Sheng away—but odd or not, business came first.

With people coming and going, Wei Huan dragged Yang Sheng all the way to Luoyan Lake in front of the Yansui Academy.

“This is far enough. He can’t hear us.”

Hearing that, Wei Huan let go of his arm a little sheepishly. “Well, uh… I…”

Yang Sheng saw him lowering his head, fumbling for words, and simply extended a hand, forming a glowing purple barrier orb. Instantly, they were wrapped in a faintly glowing, translucent shield of light.

No one outside could see or hear anything from inside.

Yang Sheng got straight to the point: “Lying to me wasn’t enough? How many others are you trying to fool? Yun Yongzhou? Su Buyu? Who else?”

Wei Huan licked his lips and looked down, his voice muffled: “I just didn’t want to drag everyone down.” He sighed. “You don’t understand. This rebirth… it’s really complicated. I opened my eyes and people were already hunting me down. I had no idea I’d been dead for seven years, didn’t know anything, just escaped to Shanhai. So much happened in between—it was a miracle I even survived.”

As he finished, Yang Sheng turned to look at a flicker of fire on the lake’s surface.

Wei Huan struggled for the right words. “Right now, I can’t sort everything out. But the more I dig, the deeper it all goes. Every little clue I pull leads to even more questions.”

Yang Sheng asked, “When you woke up, you were already in this human body?”

“Yeah. Back in the hospital, didn’t you say you were investigating this person’s identity? Did you find anything?”

Yang Sheng shook his head. “It’s almost impossible to trace. I tried all sorts of methods and still found nothing. It’s like someone deliberately wiped out every trace of him.” He looked at Wei Huan. “Maybe they did it to put your demon soul into the body.”

Wei Huan’s mind was a mess. He squatted down and buried his head. “Honestly… even though I came back to life, it feels like parts of my memory are missing.”

Yang Sheng folded his arms. “What do you mean? You’ve forgotten everything from before?”

Wei Huan shook his head and mumbled against his knees: “No… I remember everything between us.”

Yang Sheng let out a breath of relief. “Then what have you forgotten?”

“I don’t know. Some things just feel familiar, but I can’t recall them.”

Especially…

Wei Huan didn’t finish that thought. Instead, a more specific example came to mind. “My memories of the war seven years ago are really blurry.”

“In my head, everything before I died is just scattered fragments. I remember being surrounded by human troops. Even my wings were blown off. Their weapons were all designed to target demons—totally different from what we’ve seen before.”

Yang Sheng’s expression grew grim. “Yeah. You and father encountered weapons that were cutting-edge human tech at the time. But later, the demon army overwhelmed them with sheer numbers. The human weapons didn’t have large-scale destructive power, so in the end, they lost miserably. That’s when the Puppet Faction came to power and never dared to start another war.”

That made Wei Huan uneasy.

He died, sure. But to have treason pinned on him after death—who did that benefit?

“After the Puppet Faction took over, they signed a peace treaty. It strictly banned the development of new weapons in the Mortal Continent.” Yang Sheng gave a cold laugh. “But from what I know, they just moved everything to the Dark Zone.”

“Yeah, that’s where I escaped from—a research facility in the Dark Zone.” Wei Huan paused.
“I remember that much. But I don’t remember ever handing over the battle crest. I don’t remember being imprisoned. That video… that wasn’t me.” He hesitated. “At least, I don’t think it was me…”

Yang Sheng fell silent.

He had studied that video before. There were no signs of tampering—but something was clearly wrong.

He had always believed they killed Wei Huan, stole the battle crest, and faked the video.

He believed it. But no one else did.

In today’s world, people only believe what they want to believe.

No one’s interested in justice or kindness. What they enjoy is watching heroes fall from grace, seeing geniuses collapse, uncovering dark conspiracies, watching bright stars lose their shine, and seeing purity get stained.

Now that’s exciting. That’s what matches the audience’s expectations.

Wei Huan lifted his head, his tone heavy. “I’m the only one who survived their experiment. So now, I have no idea how many eyes are still watching from the shadows. Until the truth comes to light, I can’t afford to expose my identity. It’s too dangerous.”

As he spoke, he tilted his head to look at Yang Sheng beside him. “And the fewer people who know about this, the better. Whoever is behind all this will do whatever it takes to keep it hidden. I really don’t want more people getting dragged into trouble because of me.”

“So my identity—I hope you can keep it a secret.”

He rarely spoke so seriously, and Yang Sheng knew that better than anyone.

The flames above Luoyang river rippled once, then sank back into the orange water. All became still.

Yang Sheng took a deep breath. “You think you’ve caused a few problems growing up?”

Hearing that, Wei Huan was caught off guard. His nose suddenly stung.

He glanced sideways at Yang Sheng, then looked down again. “This time, it’s not a joke.”

Deep breath in, then out. Wei Huan slapped his cheeks lightly, gathered his spirits, and continued, “By the way, have you seen a human with green eyes, a metal right leg, and a long sword like a katana? Jing Yun ran into him in the dark zone before. I saw him again a few days ago. Claims to be a descendant of a demon slayer…”

“No. He doesn’t have any spiritual aura,” Yang Sheng cut in without hesitation. After a pause, he added, “I’ve investigated him. He’s elusive, runs a bar in the dark zone, but it’s basically never open. Lives with a middle-aged man who’s a drunk—I’ve never seen him sober.”

That lined up with what Wei Huan had seen before. “But that guy almost hurt Jing Yun two years ago. It’s obvious he was trying to protect humans. If he’s not a demon slayer, why would he do that?”

“Yeah. I started looking into him after that incident. He often patrols the dark zone at night, but only kills demons. If a human’s the one doing evil, he just ignores it.”

Yang Sheng had tailed the guy multiple times.

The demons in the dark zone were mostly low-level ones that fed on humans or had already gone mad. Students from Shanhai on missions couldn’t catch them all, so some slipped through. Yang Sheng noticed those leftovers were usually taken out by that black-clothed young man.

His killing was swift and clean—not like an untrained civilian. His most dangerous asset was that blade. It looked old, definitely not a modern tech weapon, but it somehow suppressed demon regeneration. He always cut his targets to pieces—never left a full corpse.

“I’ve always suspected that sword of his. But that demon slayer hid too well, and later rumors said he’d died. It’s really hard to trace anything now, let alone confirm if he left that sword behind.”

Wei Huan looked up. “You think it might be a demon-slayer’s weapon?”

“I’m only making a logical guess.” Yang Sheng continued, “That guy’s movements are slippery. A few times he must’ve noticed I was tailing him, but instead of confronting me, he just quietly shook me off.”

Wei Huan guessed, “Maybe he saw you were a powerful demon and didn’t dare fight you. Did you suppress your demon aura around him?”

Yang Sheng shook his head. “No, that’s not it. It’s not about the aura. Even though he’s ruthless, all the demons he’s killed were wicked ones. I think his goal is very simple. He probably really thought Jing Yun was harming someone that day.”

Wants to be a hero? Wei Huan chuckled. In a world this chaotic, sometimes things really did require simple, brutal solutions.

“Why are you asking about him?” Yang Sheng asked.

“Well…” Wei Huan hesitated, then finally said, “Seven years ago, during the battle at the border canyon, I saved a human child. At first, I thought he was a demon, but he wasn’t. Still, I saved him anyway.” He laughed. “Never thought he’d grow up and turn into a so-called demon slayer.”

Sure enough, Yang Sheng let out a sneering laugh.

He’d said it more than once—Wei Huan’s biggest flaw was being too soft-hearted. But that was just something Wei Huan couldn’t change.

“I was thinking… maybe I can start with him, see if he has any clues.”

The atmosphere grew quiet. Yang Sheng shoved his hands in his uniform pockets and kicked a stone by his feet. The stone plopped into the lake, and the surface flared up with crackling flames.

“That day, you were lucky my blade didn’t stab you to death.”

Hearing that, Wei Huan rubbed his chest. When he spoke, there was a childish defiance to his tone. “I’m fine! Healthy as ever. Eat well, sleep well.”

He even slapped his chest twice for emphasis.

Yang Sheng looked genuinely surprised. “You recovered that fast?”

“Yeah.” Wei Huan muttered, “At first I thought it was because of the blood pact, but then I wasn’t so sure.”

Yang Sheng didn’t reply. Wei Huan continued, “Do you know where I can find information on blood pacts? Ever since they were banned, everything’s been erased online. I can’t find anything.”

“The top floor of the Shanhai library. There are lots of forbidden techniques there,” Yang Sheng deliberately jabbed at him. “I think you died once and came back dumber.”

“Yeah, but my current access level definitely isn’t enough. I’d have to wait until I make it into the combat team.” That thought made Wei Huan frown again. “I’m still officially human. Not sure if the academy will assign me to the combat team. It’s almost time for the team selection mock battle.”

Shanhai had a tradition of holding school-wide mock battles before combat team assignments. The mock battle included all four academies and featured a variety of formats, designed to stimulate students’ full range of abilities and serve as reference for team placement.

“Back then, Team Seven’s main combat force—so arrogant he could fly,” Yang Sheng raised his brows slightly. “Now look at you.”

“As the saying goes: ‘When Heaven is about to bestow a great responsibility on a person, it must first distress their mind, exhaust their muscles and bones, starve their body, leave them impoverished, and interfere with everything they do…’”

“Alright, alright, shut up.” Yang Sheng frowned. “Can you stop reciting stuff at every turn?”

Wei Huan proudly lifted his chin. “Nope.”

Their eyes met—and both quickly looked away.

Wei Huan stood up and walked over to Yang Sheng, speaking softly, “Thank you.”

Yang Sheng glanced at him, reluctantly asking, “Thank me for what?”

Wei Huan smiled. Although the sharp little canine tooth from the past was gone, in Yang Sheng’s eyes, he still looked exactly the same as before.

“Thank you for believing in me—and waiting for me.”

From what Yang Sheng had just said, Wei Huan knew he’d been investigating what happened back then. He must have believed in Wei Huan, or he wouldn’t have done all that. At that moment, Wei Huan suddenly felt that he had been nothing but a coward, avoiding his best friend all this time.

He couldn’t imagine the torment Yang Sheng must have endured over the past seven years.

Overnight, all the pressure had fallen on him—his left shoulder bearing the weight of the entire Bifang team, and his right shouldering the public opinion surrounding the “death” of his childhood friend.

“Actually…” Wei Huan started but found it hard to continue, lowering his head.

The truth was, ever since he was reborn, he had felt very lonely. He had to hide his identity from everyone, face everything alone—think alone, search for answers alone, solve problems alone. It was a stark contrast to how things had been in the past.

The Wei Huan who had always been surrounded by friends finally came to understand what it meant to be truly alone.

So every time he saw Yang Sheng, he would feel nostalgic.

But he didn’t know how to express it. He didn’t know what Yang Sheng truly thought of him.

Did he still resent him? Could they ever return to what they had before? These thoughts had haunted him countless times, to the point of becoming nightmares.

Thinking about it made his eyes sting.

Just as Wei Huan was about to pretend to pull himself together and lift his head, a hand appeared in his field of vision.

He was slightly stunned. Turning his head, he saw Yang Sheng with his neck slightly tilted, looking off into the distance, still wearing that indifferent expression.

“Hurry up, stop dawdling.”

Wei Huan laughed and, just like in the past, slapped Yang Sheng’s open palm. The two of them made fists and bumped knuckles with perfect coordination.

“Now’s the part where you say, ‘Welcome back.’”

Yang Sheng snorted coldly. “Welcome your d*mn self.”

When the two of them returned to the ice cream shop, Yun Yongzhou was standing with his arms crossed. A group of girls inside the shop were watching him through the window. Across from him, Jing Yun was still happily playing with the purple wind ball.

The little furball bounced up and down on the table, playing along.

“Airplane.” The wind cluster turned into the shape of a plane.

Little furball: “Ying ying ying!”

Jing Yun pointed: “Flag!” The wind turned into a little flag.

The furball wiggled furiously: “Ying ying ying ying ying!”

“Awesome!” Jing Yun clapped. “Turn into…” He thought hard for a moment, then came up with one. “Flame!”

The wind cluster suddenly spun around and turned into the shape of a hand, pointing twice at Yun Yongzhou’s face.

Leaning back in his chair, Yun Yongzhou shot him a cold glance. His intimidating aura sent the little wind puff fleeing back into Jing Yun’s hand.

“Why does he look like he’s babysitting someone else’s kid?” Wei Huan turned to Yang Sheng.

Yang Sheng rolled his eyes in his mind. “Still better than babysitting you.”

Author’s Note: — Ice Cream Mini Skit —

[While the childhood friend duo whispers to each other]

Jing Yun: staaaaaaares—

Yun Yongzhou: staaaaaaares—

(five minutes later)

Jing Yun: staaaaaaares—

Yun Yongzhou: staaaaaaares—

(ten minutes later)

Jing Yun: [timidly] “Instructor Yun, c-can you show me that light whip thing again? I just wanna see it…”

Yun Yongzhou: “No.” [rejects instantly]

Jing Yun: “Okay…” [sniffles and continues playing with the wind puff]

Little furball: “Ying ying ying ying…” [Translation: Aww, you look so pitiful—I’ll play with you~]

Yun Yongzhou’s inner thoughts: I can’t let him come to Fuyou again.