Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 54

Wei Huan rolled his eyes. “Cut the cr*p.”

Qing He’s gaze lingered meaningfully on Yun Yongzhou’s tall figure ahead of them. That was clearly a demon—and a powerful one at that. He tilted his head toward Wei Huan, asking, “Aren’t you going to introduce him?”

“Introduce?” Wei Huan said casually, “Didn’t I just say? He’s my teacher.”

Qing He gave a cold laugh. “You think I’m stupid? What kind of teacher follows you into such a dangerous place? Just not punishing you for this stunt would already be lenient.”

To be fair, not coming would’ve gotten him punished.

How does Qing He know so much?

Wei Huan lowered his voice, glancing at the tall figure not far ahead. “He’s a little closer than a teacher. I’ll tell you after we’re out.” Before Qing He could fire off another question, he quickly changed the subject. “Wait, why are you here? Weren’t you headed to the demon realm?”

“I picked up some new data fluctuations from the breakpoint—it pointed to a location here. I wanted to check it out myself before I left.”

Still looking into his situation? Wei Huan was genuinely surprised. “You’re still bothering with my business? I thought what we had was purely transactional…”

As soon as he said that, Yun Yongzhou suddenly stopped and turned to look at the two of them.

Qing He, ever alert, instantly sensed the murderous aura in his gaze. He raised his hands in defense. “Wait, wait—the deal this iron-headed dummy’s talking about was intelligence exchange, okay? Nothing shady!”

“Who’re you calling shady?” Wei Huan shoved him.

Yun Yongzhou turned back around, and Qing He forced an awkward smile. “You’re not shady. You’re just dumb.”

“Poisonous tongue.”

“Idiot.” Qing He couldn’t be bothered to keep arguing and tapped the ring on his left pinky. The moment his finger touched it, a virtual screen popped up on his palm. As they walked, he kept operating it. “It’s on the floor below this one.”

Yun Yongzhou hadn’t even reached the next floor, but his light blades had already gone ahead, shredding the building’s security cameras. Qing He initially assumed he was worried about being pursued. But on second thought—no matter how many people came, Yun Yongzhou had nothing to fear. He could probably collapse the whole building solo.

So was he hiding his identity?

“You didn’t have to destroy the cameras,” Qing He said behind him. “I could’ve hacked the footage and scrubbed your identity.”

Yun Yongzhou turned to glance at him but didn’t stop the light blades. Wei Huan chuckled, “Let him do it.”

Following Qing He’s coordinates, they drew closer to their destination. Wei Huan moved to walk beside Yun Yongzhou while Qing He lagged behind, eyes on the screen. He had already taken control of the floor’s cameras and could see the defense layout clearly.

“Northeast corner has a squad, seven or eight people. About ten guarding the office entrance, a small patrol in the hallway, four by the elevator, six at the emergency exit.”

Wei Huan frowned. “Why so many people? What’s on this floor?”

“Seems to be the research head’s office.”

The research head? That reminded Wei Huan of something Ah Zu had said in passing when he’d escaped—about a Doctor Yang. “You mean that Dr. Yang?”

“Yeah.” Qing He explained, “His data stream was heavily encrypted. I spent some time cracking the path. Unless I’m wrong, this should be the right office.”

Wei Huan felt a flicker of excitement. If this was true, he might finally be able to find out the identity of this body—possibly even uncover a breakthrough link to his demon soul’s return. Even if it wasn’t certain yet, it was huge.

“Still going through the emergency exit?”

Wei Huan blinked at the question from Yun Yongzhou.

“You got a plan?” Yun Yongzhou added. “If not, I’ll just go in.”

The way he said it threw Wei Huan off for a moment. The tone was almost too natural, as if it were second nature to defer to him in ops planning. Wei Huan couldn’t help feeling that something about this was… familiar.

“The elevator’s less guarded, but it’s too cramped to maneuver. Let’s go with the emergency exit. You clear the path with light blades, I’ll take Qing He inside. Cover us from outside. Try not to kill anyone.”

“Mm.”

Qing He was even more confused. What kind of teacher listens to the student’s battle plans? Who’s the teacher here? This kid is shady as h*ll. I don’t buy any of this.

They reached the emergency stairwell and could already hear patrolling footsteps inside.

[Open the door.] Wei Huan sent the message directly to Yun Yongzhou’s mind.

Yun Yongzhou glanced at him and nodded. Four orbs of Golden Crow fire appeared and attached themselves to the four corners of the door. Golden shields of light spread in front of Wei Huan and Qing He.

With a thunderous boom, the door was blown open by the fire. Smoke filled the space. Before the guards inside could even react, a flurry of golden light blades shot out from the smoke and precisely pierced their arms and legs. Screams erupted in chorus.

Wei Huan let out a long sigh. [I didn’t mean for you to open the door like that!]

A serious reply came from his chest — Yun Yongzhou’s voice through mind-link.
[I thought you liked blowing things up.]

[When did I—] Wei Huan suddenly remembered, he had said before that Yang Ling could blow things up… but that didn’t mean every time…

Qing He interrupted his thoughts. “Doesn’t he need a shield?”

“He doesn’t,” Wei Huan replied, raising his right hand. The pale gold bracelet on his wrist instantly transformed into a longsword as tall as half a man. “He’s the strongest of the fire types — the Undying Golden Crow.”

Qing He was stunned. “Stronger than the Phoenix?”

“That kind of baiting question — what do you think I’m gonna say?” A guy dodging the light blades rushed toward them — clearly skilled. Wei Huan flung his longsword; it spun in the air, slicing into the man’s wrist just as he was about to pull the trigger.

Wei Huan stepped forward, catching the gun as it fell, then roundhouse kicked the man in the head. A group behind them raised their guns. Wei Huan couldn’t be bothered to turn his light blade into a shield — he grabbed the half-conscious man and used him as a body shield.

Yun Yongzhou’s light blades caught up, striking the enemies down one by one. Wei Huan let the man drop to the floor, then turned to Qing He. “You know how to shoot?”

Qing He raised a hand. “Toss it.”

As soon as Wei Huan threw the gun, three men in black appeared behind him. He turned to react, but before he could move, they were riddled with bullets and dropped to the ground.

He turned to see Qing He lowering his weapon and giving him a quick grin.

That level of accuracy, even with one eye covered — not bad at all.

“Nice. Dead steady even with one eye.”

Qing He chuckled. “D*mn right.”

They pressed forward. Wei Huan led the charge. At a corridor corner, three tall, black-clad guards appeared. He stepped onto a wall-mounted fire box, used it to leap up, and wrapped his legs around the lead man’s neck. A quick twist — the man collapsed.

At the same time, the light blade in his hand split into multiple shards and shot backward, taking down the others. Wei Huan flipped and landed smoothly as the man he had choked laid gasping on the floor.

“Holy sh*t,” Qing He said, catching up. “That bad*ss, huh?”

Wei Huan stood up, the light blades returning to his wrist. Then Qing He added, “I’m worried for your future husband.” Wei Huan blinked. “Worried for who?”

As they joked, a hidden door in the side hallway suddenly burst open. Two large figures stepped out — before they could be seen clearly, a flickering blade light surged forward. The two ambushers collapsed heavily to the ground.

Yun Yongzhou stood holding twin Tang knives, demon energy surging from his palms. The blades dissolved into glowing light that quickly faded, but the blood on them fell to the ground, untouched by the glow.

“Less talking.”

Qing He sighed inwardly. Sorry for disturbing. I don’t even know who I’m supposed to be worried about anymore.

Everyone on this floor had been taken down with ease. Wei Huan and Qing He arrived at the room pinpointed in Qing He’s trace. The door required facial recognition — something neither of them had.

“What now?” Wei Huan, already frustrated by the building’s endless security layers, sighed and glanced back at Yun Yongzhou. The other man looked at him and sent a mental message.

[Blow it up?]

[No no no! Not yet. Let’s see what Qing He can do.]

Yun Yongzhou’s lips pressed into a slight pout — like a pet that hadn’t been given attention.

So cute. Ever since yesterday, Wei Huan couldn’t help but think everything Yun Yongzhou did was cute. His eyes kept drifting over. His heart felt like popcorn popping — all sweetness.

[What if he can’t open it?]

Wei Huan shrugged. [He should be able to. He’s amazing — helped me dig up all kinds of impossible data, super—]

Before he could finish, Yun Yongzhou’s cool voice cut in.

[You like him that much?]

Wei Huan panicked and blurted out loud, “Who said I liked him?!”

Qing He, trying to update the facial mask database, turned around. “Like who?”

Yun Yongzhou said nothing, expression cold. Wei Huan’s head shook like a rattle drum. He scrambled to recover. “I… uh… remembered a line from our school play. Wanted to practice some delivery. Haha!” Then, full performance mode activated: hands clasped over chest, full of emotion—

“Oh handsome Romeo, who wouldn’t love you? You’re so gallant and dashing, oozing charisma—”

Qing He muttered “nutjob” and turned back around. Wei Huan sighed in relief, sneaking a glance at Yun Yongzhou. The other man stood there, arms crossed, watching his performance with a blank face.

[I didn’t say I liked him.] Wei Huan quickly switched back to telepathy.

[Then why so reactive?] Yun Yongzhou’s voice was cool.

Wei Huan… for a moment, he didn’t know what to say—he actually found himself at a loss for words. Qing He had already activated his electronic mask and seemed to be trying to crack the door’s access permissions.

Yun Yongzhou pressed him again: [What are you afraid of?]

Wei Huan hesitated, struggling internally, then finally braced himself: [I’m afraid of you—]

“It’s open!”

The door slowly lifted toward the ceiling. Wei Huan swallowed the rest of his unfinished sentence and followed Qing He inside. The interior wasn’t as heavily guarded as they’d expected—it looked like the most ordinary office.

But Wei Huan couldn’t shake the feeling that something was wrong. Qing He headed straight for the control console in the office and searched around until he found the control panel, quickly placing his hands on it and typing rapidly.

“So annoying, this panel requires fingerprint input.”

“Then what now?” Wei Huan came over too. “Won’t your identity get exposed right away?”

Yun Yongzhou glanced over at them briefly, then focused his attention back outside.

When Qing He unlocked the first layer of the password, he raised his hands in front of Wei Huan. “Look.”

Wei Huan grabbed his fingers. At first glance, nothing seemed unusual—but the moment he held them, something felt off. Looking closely—

“Where are your fingerprints?”

“I wore them off.” Qing He’s tone was casual as he adjusted the eyepatch over his right eye and continued working. Thinking of Qing He’s past, Wei Huan couldn’t help feeling a bit sad. Qing He must’ve gone to extreme lengths over the years, hiding his identity while relentlessly pursuing his own goals. But why was Qing He so afraid of his true identity being discovered? Could his background hide some unspeakable secret?

“The AI recovery speed of this security system is too fast.” Qing He unlocked a few more layers. Wei Huan heard a clicking sound from the office cabinet. He went over, crouched down, and opened it. Inside were only some paper documents. He didn’t have time to read them carefully, so he grabbed them all.

The bottom compartment seemed to be a safe.

“This one won’t open. D*mn it.” Qing He was starting to get anxious, his forehead damp with sweat. “Why isn’t it unlocking…”

He failed several attempts in a row.

Yun Yongzhou’s eyes were fixed on the hallway outside. His pupils narrowed, and he crouched down, pressing his palm against the floor.

There was a vibration—very faint.

The surface of the safe didn’t have a visible lock or keypad. Wei Huan touched it, and to his surprise, a holographic interface appeared. In the center was a recessed slot, perfectly shaped for a fingertip.

Wei Huan hesitantly extended his index finger and pressed it into the slot. Qing He immediately saw and warned him, “Don’t mess with that. This system has attack functions.”

Sure enough, the moment his finger made contact, a sharp sting pierced his fingertip. Wei Huan quickly pulled his hand back to see a bead of blood forming.

The drop of blood seemed to spread across the holographic panel, splitting into countless fine red lines, flowing through countless cracks, until it finally vanished in a burst of blue light.

Suddenly, an AI voice echoed through the room: “Verifying identity and permissions.”

“Sh*t. I don’t have access—what now?”

Qing He’s expression turned grave. “I’ll see if I can cut off their attack source. I can only try…”

Wei Huan’s bracelet automatically transformed into a light shield, while a protective light barrier also formed in front of Qing He—a defensive ward Yun Yongzhou had set up.

But just as they all braced for a system attack, the safe’s door quietly popped open.

[Verification successful. Welcome back, Little An.]

“What the f*ck?” Wei Huan was stunned. He turned to look at Qing He, who was just as shocked. “You actually have access? How is that possible?” He rushed over. “What’s inside the safe?”

Wei Huan, crouched on the floor, pulled open the safe door. It was much emptier than he expected—inside was only a single watch, and it looked like an electronic kids’ watch.

Who is Little An?

Without a word, Yun Yongzhou suddenly left the room and sealed the door tightly with a wall of fire, leaving only a cold command: “Don’t go outside.”

Wei Huan grabbed the watch and called Yun Yongzhou’s name, but he was already gone. Wei Huan wanted to chase after him, but the ground suddenly shook violently—like an earthquake. Wei Huan steadied himself and shouted to Qing He: “Don’t panic! This barrier can hold up—it’s strong!”

“Is it an earthquake? Or an explosion?” Qing He quickly stuffed all the documents into his bag and uploaded a virus he had prepared in advance. The virus spread at an exponential rate, invading millions of system ports at once.

Within half a minute, even the power in the building went out.

“The system’s down—though maybe only temporarily. Still, one less problem to deal with.”

Wei Huan nodded. “You stay here—it’s safer. I need to go out.”

Qing He grabbed his arm. “Didn’t he tell us not to go out?”

“He likes working alone—but I don’t.” Wei Huan responded without even thinking. But the moment he said it, he suddenly froze.

Hadn’t he said this before?

That feeling of memory fragmentation hit him again—images surged through his mind, unfamiliar yet vivid.

A black combat suit. A bloodied Yun Yongzhou. Ruins and darkness.

[You like to work alone, but I don’t.]

[We wear the same uniform. That makes us comrades.]

[You can collect my corpse, but I’ll never leave you behind.]

His breathing turned ragged, a heavy, choking pressure settling in his chest.

“What’s wrong?” Qing He noticed something was off and moved to support him. “You okay?”

Wei Huan shook his head, gripping Qing He’s wrist. “Your barrier can get through the fire wall. But don’t come out yet.”

“What about you? You’re human.”

Wei Huan shook his head again, eyes fixed on the burning door. “I have the blood of the Golden Crow.”

Once terrified of flames, Wei Huan now walked steadily toward the wall of fire.

As he said, Qing He watched, wide-eyed, as Wei Huan passed through the blaze unscathed and left the room.

With the system down, the hallways were pitch black. Qing He’s light barrier was the only source of illumination.

But where was Yun Yongzhou?

Wei Huan’s anxiety rose. His wristband transformed into a light blade that he gripped tightly.
“Yun Yongzhou!”

The moment he shouted, the left wall exploded open. In the darkness, Yun Yongzhou’s wings glowed faintly. Fire swirled in his palms, forming two massive dragons that barreled toward something inside the wall—something he was attacking.

Wei Huan ran toward the firelight, ignoring Yun Yongzhou’s attempts to stop him. He stepped across the debris and charged straight toward the Golden Crow fire’s target. Flames roared behind him as he raised his light blade to strike—

Only to realize, in shock, that his target was… a human.

His grip on the lightblade faltered; he missed the man’s chest. The strike was blocked by the man’s hand—but in that same instant, both his hands were severed. Just as Wei Huan felt a pang of guilt, the bloody stumps suddenly regrew new hands—black, claw-like, inhuman.

“This isn’t human!” Yun Yongzhou realized he’d been deceived. His wings unfurled, unleashing a storm of radiant blades that pierced the creature’s chest. Blood splattered on Wei Huan’s face—it was unmistakably human blood.

He looked at the new hands and the purple veins bulging on the man’s face.

Not human…

Yun Yongzhou didn’t waste time confirming. A thousand blades flew in dense formation, tearing the target apart until he was nothing but fragments.

The “human,” riddled with blades, collapsed. A wave of purple demon aura surged from the body and then dissipated completely.

Was it over?

Just as Wei Huan turned his focus to the corpse, something from behind slammed into the wall. Stone flew everywhere. He spun around and immediately wove a barrier to cover Yun Yongzhou’s back.

The next second, from the darkness behind the wall, a second figure emerged—also appearing completely human. But his eyes glowed a blood-dripping red, and behind him stretched dozens of thick, powerful green vines. Yun Yongzhou’s radiant blades sliced them, but more kept growing—endless, relentless.

They couldn’t keep dodging like this.

“Don’t go out!”

Wei Huan ignored Yun Yongzhou’s warning and stepped out of the barrier’s protection. He took a deep breath.

Earlier, destroying the first target’s core ended the threat. Maybe this one was the same.

If he could just reach the core…

The lightblade in his hand grew longer and thinner, like a lightning bolt in the dark. The vines zeroed in on him the moment he left the barrier, writhing toward him like massive serpents. Wei Huan darted left and right, sword flashing faster and faster, until only streaks of light remained in the darkness.

The vines nearly cocooned him entirely, like a silken chrysalis. Alone, deep in enemy territory, Wei Huan hacked desperately at the vines blocking his path.

Just as he’d thought.

The closer he got, the more the vines clustered around the humanoid figure, as if shielding it.

Wei Huan poured his demon power into his right arm and slashed open the vine-woven wall, revealing a seemingly harmless human face.

He steeled himself and swung the lightblade at it, but the target had a terrifying regenerative ability—even after losing hands and feet, they regrew rapidly.

Some limbs even reattached in bizarre, mismatched ways.

No… this wouldn’t work. Not like this.

Had he been wrong?

“Find its demon heart!”

Yun Yongzhou’s voice snapped him out of it.

Wei Huan focused the golden crow power in his body, seeking out the resonance of demon aura. While his blade held off the relentless assault, he closed his eyes.

In the darkness, he sensed a blazing light behind him—like the sun itself.

The heart of the golden crow burned within him.

He focused hard in the endless void, searching for another source of demon aura. Around him echoed chaotic battle cries and shrieks, yet all he saw was blackness.

Then—suddenly—a flash of dark green light.

It vanished in an instant.

Wei Huan locked in.

There! Right side!

He opened his eyes.

So that was it.

“The demon heart is in the vines!”

In that instant, Wei Huan’s demon power surged, golden light exploding through the vine-choked passage. A torrent of radiant blades shot forth, slicing every vine to shreds.

The humanoid figure collapsed, wrapped in severed vines that squirmed like worms, burrowing into his flesh. Wei Huan’s brows furrowed, and a lightblade formed in his right hand.

Still not enough power.

Then he saw the last remaining vine—thick as a bowl—turn red and drive itself straight into the figure’s forehead.

That was it!

As he raised the blade for a final strike, a scorching, overwhelming power suddenly enveloped him.

Yun Yongzhou had come up behind him, wrapping his arms around Wei Huan and gripping his hands tightly on the hilt.

“Feel me.”

The words were like an enchantment, instantly overtaking Wei Huan’s mind.

In that moment, nothing existed but Yun Yongzhou. Light and heat surrounded him—immense, unstoppable. Power surged from his palms into his body, so intense that even his blood felt like it was boiling.

A massive lightblade manifested in Wei Huan’s grip. Yun Yongzhou let go.

Wei Huan raised it high and brought it down in a single, devastating strike. The dark green demon soul was annihilated in a scream that tore through the air.

The strain was too much for his human body. Unable to bear it, Wei Huan staggered. As the blade dissolved, he fell backward, collapsing into Yun Yongzhou’s arms, trembling from the pain wracking his body.

Was he dying?

Then suddenly, from within the wrecked body, a faint, unfamiliar power stirred—small, weak.

Blue light.

The turbulent demon soul and aura raged recklessly in his too-fragile shell. It felt like every bone in his body had shattered.

And yet, in his ears, the sound of wind.

The wind…

“You’re okay. It’ll be over soon.”

Wei Huan heard Yun Yongzhou’s soothing voice. He felt his warm, slender hands wrap from behind, pressing gently from his neck upward—jaw, lips, eyelids…

The heat stopped at his brow.

Yun Yongzhou’s fingers pressed lightly at his brow, flooding him with an overwhelming healing force that seeped into his bones and blood.

His face was right beside Wei Huan’s, holding him from behind—so close.

As strength returned to him, Wei Huan suddenly turned and tightly embraced Yun Yongzhou, pressing his forehead against Yun Yongzhou’s chin, almost melting into him, arms wrapped around his waist, eyes closing.

There was no gap between them—soon, in this burning heat, they would melt into one, unable to be distinguished from each other.

He felt as if he had become a terrifying plant, coiling, clinging, hungrily and greedily absorbing the sun’s heat and nourishment.

Like a disciple of light, on the verge of being devoured by his own desire.