Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 38

In the days that followed, Wei Huan kept in contact with Ah Zu, hoping to get more information about his current human body. After all, this seemed like the most promising lead for now.

“Just using this photo to search is too hard.” Ah Zu couldn’t explain it well, so he ran off to another room to find Qing He. As usual, Qing He was playing video games, too focused to look up. Holding his controller, he shouted, “Hold on! Let me finish this round first!”

Wei Huan stared at him through the screen. The more he looked, the more familiar he felt. He was sure he hadn’t met him before, so why did he feel such a strong sense of déjà vu?

When the game ended, Qing He spun in his chair and looked at the screen. “What’s the issue again?”

Ah Zu nudged him with his elbow. “Can you take that eye mask off?”

“Tch.” Qing He smirked. “I didn’t want to scare him, you know?”

“It’s fine, Ah Heng’s not that type of person.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Qing He took off the eye mask on screen and ruffled his hair. For the first time, he faced the camera with his full appearance.

Wei Huan froze.

On Qing He’s face, from the right brow to beneath the eye, stretched vivid blue demon markings.

He really had seen him before.

Suddenly, a memory surfaced: back then, carrying a basketball and passing the edge of the Kunlun barrier, Wei Huan had, in fact, brushed shoulders with this human boy—one who had been cast out of the demon’s household.

Wei Huan used to not believe in things like fate, but now… First the boy he rescued in the border canyon, and now this banished youth from long ago—two strange coincidences, all tying back to him.

Faced with it all, even he could no longer deny it.

Qing He had a pair of phoenix eyes that tilted upward slightly. Framed by those tangled demon markings, they exuded an eerie kind of beauty.

“You see? And you said he wouldn’t be scared.” Qing He pointed at Wei Huan and smiled, then reached over the table to grab his half-black mask, covering the eye marked by the demon pattern. He turned and tapped a few keys on the computer. A new set of data appeared on the holographic screen.

“I used some not-so-legitimate methods to track things on the net.” Qing He leaned back in his chair, fingers interlaced. “You have to understand—if a person has ever existed, they’ll have left traces behind. Clearly, the people on the opposite side know this too, which is why they’ve invested so much manpower and resources into erasing all signs that this person ever existed. But…”

Before he could finish, Wei Huan cut in, “Even erasing things leaves traces behind.”

Hearing this, Qing He’s eyes lit up with a touch of approval. “Exactly. Seems you’re not stupid.” Then he went back to the main topic. “I figured, since the cloning experiment was carried out by the people of 137, all the groundwork must’ve been theirs too. Based on the timeline, I narrowed the scope and started tracking and eliminating possibilities based on their data handling behavior.”

Wei Huan immediately asked, “So did you find anything?”

“Of course not,” Qing He laughed. “If it were that easy, I’d go start my own research institute. But I did find something.”

As he operated the system, he explained, “Most of my trackers were able to trace the data processing paths. But a few of them—those got cut off.”

A web-like diagram appeared on the screen, gradually zooming in under his control. It displayed various research sites and divisions. Most were marked green, only a few were in red.

“Three of these are demon puppet research facilities. That’s expected—those kinds of extreme studies would require regular wiping and encryption. But one location…”

One red dot was enlarged on the screen.

“This one—I can’t find any related info. I’ve tried every decryption method I know, but it’s like this place is wearing an invisibility cloak. Totally untraceable. And it doesn’t belong to any unit under 137.”

So the trail was cut off?

Wei Huan frowned. “You’re saying the department or researcher who erased this human’s info is at that location?”

Qing He shrugged. “Just a guess. Don’t blame me if I’m wrong.” He stretched his legs out, spinning in his chair. “Still, to have this level of encryption—there can’t be more than a handful of people on the entire continent capable of it. So narrowing it down from that angle shouldn’t be too hard. But just relying on digital traces… you’ll always hit dead ends.”

Dead ends.

Qing He shrugged again, putting on a fake-apologetic face. “That’s as far as I can go. The rest’s up to you.”

Ah Zu looked apologetically at Wei Huan, but Wei Huan just smiled. “It’s alright.”

He understood. This wasn’t an easy task, and quitting now was both safe and smart.

Technology is a powerful tool—but only “in many cases,” not all.

That’s why students of Shanhai were trained to handle all kinds of situations—not just brute force. When every path is blocked, they had to step in personally and hunt down the answers—not rely solely on overflowing modern tech.

Because the human heart is always the most vulnerable defense system.

Wei Huan suddenly smiled, remembering something his intelligence professor once said back in school—a strained but memorable metaphor.

“Did you know? A great hacker never hides behind a screen. He must also be a great spy.”

When you hit a dead end—that’s when it’s time to step out from behind the screen, and start playing with people’s hearts.

Qing He lifted his head and glanced at Wei Huan on the screen. Then he turned away and started tapping on the keyboard again like he couldn’t be bothered.

The atmosphere was awkward. Ah Zu clearly felt it, and just as he was wondering how to break the silence, the screen suddenly cut to a new call. His face lit up like he’d just found treasure. “Sorry, Ah Heng! I’ve got another call.”

Wei Huan smiled, completely at ease. “No worries. We’ll talk next time.”

As Ah Zu and the screen faded out of the room and the feed cut off, Wei Huan kept smiling and lazily counted in his head.

Three…

Two…

One.

The screen lit up again as expected. This time, it was Qing He, with none of the friendliness he’d shown before. He’d ripped off all his masks.

“Cut the cr*p. That AI robocall can only stall him for so long.”

Wei Huan chuckled, teasing, “Maybe you should pick a better-sounding synthesized female voice next time.”

Qing He stared at Wei Huan like he was looking at a fascinating, exciting specimen. He even leaned in. “No, seriously—what makes you think I’d help you?”

“I don’t,” Wei Huan replied with a smile, radiating the kind of confidence most people had long lost in this grim age. “But I think… you’d probably enjoy working with me.”

Qing He’s smile faded, his face turning serious.

“I can get involved—but you have to agree to one condition.”

Even without hearing it, Wei Huan already knew what it would be.

He had no organization, no backing. Only one advantage.

He was in Shanhai now. He could enter the demon domain.

“You want me to help you find the person who brokered the deal that sold you to the demon.” Before Qing He could react with surprise, Wei Huan added, “I looked into you, too. So don’t bother wasting time explaining everything. Let’s talk like smart people and cut to the chase.”

Qing He removed his mask and raised a brow. “Good. I like straightforward people.”

“You help me get revenge, and I’ll help you reclaim your identity,” Qing He said with a smile. “Fair enough?”

Wei Huan’s lips curved. “Very fair.”

In truth, Wei Huan wasn’t entirely sure Qing He’s “revenge target” was in the demon domain—he was just following his lead to test things out, and unexpectedly, it worked. Seems Qing He had done his homework too. Since he was sure the target was in the demon domain, that made things much easier.

The biggest clue so far was the demon mark on Qing He’s face. There were just too many demons in Shanhai—trying to find the right one would be like looking for a needle in a haystack. If only there were some kind of major event…

Something big enough for him to see a lot of demons at once.

“Hey, I heard the freshmen’s mock battle starts today.”

“Really? I’m so excited! We get to skip class again~”

Ah, right.

Hearing the passing students chat made Wei Huan brighten up. He’d been wondering when he’d get access to the upper floor of the Shanhai Library—who would’ve thought the mock battle would come so soon?

Truly, “search high and low only to find it with no effort at all.”

But the more he thought about it, the more worried he got.

As just a mere human, he was likely to be excluded from the battle prep team. His stance was questionable, and his combat ability basically negligible.

“You all better give me your full attention and listen up!” During class, homeroom teacher Xing Yan handed out the mock battle manuals one by one. His usually flaming hair blazed even higher as he raised his voice.

The more fired up Xing Yan was, the more dejected Wei Huan felt.

“This mock battle will determine your future placements in the battle prep teams. Senior instructors and professors from each academy will be observing, and the research department will be monitoring your physical and mental states in real time. Based on all this data, your placements will be decided.”

Xing Yan slapped the documents down on the desk. “Don’t come crying to me after the placements saying you want to switch teams. Don’t even think about it. Perform well. If anyone embarrasses me, I’ll make sure they regret it.”

Ergou Zhao Xingjian snorted and jeered, “Now who’s most likely to embarrass themselves~”

Wei Huan grinned and shot his hand up. “Answer: Zhao Xingjian.”

The room burst into laughter.

“You!” Zhao Xingjian spun around angrily, ready to hurl a fireball. But before it could land, Yan Shanyue flicked his wrist and blue foxfire trapped the flame midair.

“You d*mn Nine-Tails!” Zhao Xingjian fumed and tried to get up, only for Xing Yan to shove him back down. “Save it for the battlefield,” the teacher barked. Then he walked over to Wei Huan, slapped a hand on his desk, and barked, “Now get downstairs and assemble—we’re heading to Zhegong Tower for medical checks.”

Yang Ling muttered under her breath, “Zhegong Tower…”

“Oh no… not the Broken Arm Tower again,” Wei Huan mumbled, only to get a sharp glare from Yang Ling.

“Who are you calling broken-armed?”

Wei Huan smiled with every ounce of survival instinct, “Me. I meant me.”

As everyone got up and started leaving the classroom, Xing Yan tapped Wei Huan’s desk twice. “You. Come with me.”

It’s over. They’re not letting me join for sure.

Wei Huan tried to brace himself.

Don’t get disappointed. Don’t be disappointed. Watching from the stands will make it easier to spot demon marks anyway.

He suddenly thought of Yun Yongzhou, though he didn’t know why.

The blood pact… maybe it’s better to put it on hold. Looks like the library access won’t happen anytime soon.

Xing Yan led him around the hallway corner and stopped abruptly. Wei Huan, lost in thought, didn’t stop in time and bumped into his teacher’s back.

“I won’t beat around the bush. Originally, the academy didn’t allow you to participate.”

Wei Huan nodded—just as he expected. But then he caught one word—originally—and his head shot up. “Originally??”

Xing Yan slapped an application form against Wei Huan’s chest. “I submitted a request to the academy on your behalf.”

He took it and looked down. Sure enough, Xing Yan had written it. And to his surprise, the bottom signature belonged to Principal Bai.

“At first, the academy didn’t agree. They felt you didn’t meet the criteria for the battle prep group, and that including you in the mock battle would only drag others down and affect their performance.”

Xing Yan crossed his arms. “But you got lucky. Yang Ling and Yan Shanyue, who’ve been on missions with you before, personally came to me and asked to have you included. I didn’t want any of my students left with regrets either.”

“Still, the academy heads wouldn’t budge. So I went over their heads to the principal. Luckily, our principal’s a reasonable guy.”

Seeing how shocked Wei Huan was, Xing Yan clapped him on the shoulder. “He also asked me to tell you this: do your best!”

It was just a thin piece of paper, yet holding it felt like it weighed a thousand pounds. Wei Huan, who always used jokes to mask his feelings, suddenly didn’t know what to say—or how to look. He just gripped the paper tightly. “Thank you, teacher.”

Xing Yan gave his arm a strong smack. “But if you screw up out there, you’ll pack your bags and leave Combat Preparedness Class One. No arguments.”

Wei Huan looked up and spotted Yang Ling hiding behind a tree, flapping her little wings. The moment they locked eyes, she got startled and fell—straight into the arms of Yan Shanyue, who had been leaning against the tree. She looked shocked, and her face turned crimson.

Wei Huan’s heart felt full, like a helium balloon ready to float away.

He turned back to Xing Yan and gave him a bright, youthful smile.

“I promise I won’t let you down!”

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