Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 64

“What are you talking about?” Qing He frowned, feeling like Wei Huan was spouting nonsense.

“You don’t even know what amber is?” Wei Huan rolled his eyes. “Ignorant human.”

“Aren’t you human?”

“You…” Wei Huan was momentarily speechless. He looked up at Jing Yun. “Throw him down. Let’s head to the gate.” Jing Yun responded, but instead of throwing Qing He, he turned to Yan Shanyue and said, “Classmate Yan, wait a second. I’ll carry you later.”

“No need.” As soon as Yan Shanyue finished speaking, two clusters of blue fox fire appeared beneath her feet, lifting her whole body and flying toward the gate.

Qing He craned his neck. “Little cutie, just take care of us two humans.” He deliberately emphasized the word “humans” to annoy Wei Huan.

Hearing this, Jing Yun blushed and gave a soft “oh.”

The small team quickly regrouped on the other side. The white bone pit before them had now completely solidified. The pale golden translucent gel intertwined with the grim white bones, creating an eerie beauty.

“We’re just going to leave it here?” Yang Ling glanced at it. “It’s really creepy, and I bet you can’t hold the light for very long.”

Jing Yun timidly said, “As long as we get through the door and close it behind us, it should be fine—they won’t be able to get in.”

“But what if we have to come back out through this entrance later?” Qing He crossed his arms. “We’ll have to do this all over again?”

Yan Shanyue crouched down, tilting her head to carefully examine the bones below. After a moment, she finally asked, “Who do you think these bones belonged to?”

She was clearly asking Wei Huan.

“Do you still remember Boss Jue’s story?” Wei Huan looked up and opened his palm. He could feel the hot current surging through his veins, as if something inside him was burning non-stop—just like the eternal demonic fire that burned above Wuqi City for a thousand years. “Every skeleton here died in that disaster years ago. But obviously, they were once again forced into this endless abyss of the undead.”

How ironic. The remains of the Wuqi demons ultimately became the blockade set up by the Wuqi dark witches to seal this empty city. Even though they could never rest in peace, their final bit of value was still being squeezed out.

“This generation’s Dark Witch Princess really lives like a villain—not a good impression at all.” Wei Huan walked closer, crouched by the edge of the bone pit, and pressed his palm against the massive, transparent amber.

The moment his palm’s heat merged with the flowing light, an immense energy burst forth.

In that instant, crimson fire ignited beneath his palm and erupted into an unstoppable blaze. The sealed, solidified mass of bones was completely consumed by the golden fire of the Golden Crow.

Rest in peace.

Watching the irreversible flames, Wei Huan stood up and clapped his hands.

Yang Ling was slightly surprised. “This is actually the first time I’ve seen you use fire.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Jing Yun also hadn’t expected it. “I thought Instructor Yun only gave you light powers.”

“Blood pacts aren’t that selective.” Yan Shanyue gave a subtle smile. “If you’re going to give, you give everything.”

Wei Huan deliberately ignored Yan Shanyue’s implication. “It’s my first time using fire too.”

Qing He chuckled. “Not bad—you used it for cremation on your first try. Top-tier funeral home powers.” As soon as he finished, Yang Ling and Jing Yun burst out laughing and couldn’t stop.

Wei Huan gritted his teeth, forcing a fake smile, “Can you not ruin my moment? I didn’t even get to be cool for three seconds!”

“Let’s go inside first.” Yan Shanyue also stood up and walked toward the gate they had already noticed. It was very tall, seemingly carved from stone, covered in strange symbols none of them could understand. Jing Yun reached out to touch it, “What is this?”

In his past life, Wei Huan had visited all kinds of strange places throughout the entire demon realm. Based on his experience, he quickly grabbed Jing Yun’s hand that was about to touch something. “Hey, hey, hey, don’t touch that yet.”

But he was just a little too late. Jing Yun’s fingertips still brushed against the sealing incantation on the door. With a sharp crack, a faint light flashed.

“Hiss—” Jing Yun quickly pulled his hand back in pain.

“You can’t just go around touching things,” Wei Huan earnestly advised. “Just think of those characters in horror movies—anyone who touches random stuff always dies first.”

Jing Yun nodded repeatedly, but his hand was soon dragged over by Yang Ling. “Don’t you dare get yourself into trouble, Little Chongming. How am I supposed to explain it to my brother then?”

Qing He frowned. “You keep bringing up your brother. Does your brother have some secret relationship with him?”

As soon as he finished speaking, he saw Wei Huan give him a thumbs-up. “Your mouth is truly blessed.”

“Pleasure’s mine,” Qing He said, clasping his hands in mock courtesy.

“It’s fine, it just felt like I got zapped or something,” Jing Yun rubbed his fingers together. “It doesn’t feel like anything now.”

Yan Shanyue cautiously stared at the door. “Might be some kind of barrier.”

Strangely, the incantation Jing Yun had touched slowly peeled off from the stone door. Though the symbols were clearly carved into the stone, it was as if ink was seeping out from the engraved lines. The markings gradually rose above the surface, detached from the door, and floated intact in midair before them.

“What the h*ll…”

Just as everyone braced themselves for a fight, the floating incantation suddenly turned into a wisp of blue smoke and disappeared.

Wei Huan, who had instinctively stepped back, slowly returned to the door, frowning at this increasingly bizarre entrance.

“How do we open this?” Yang Ling was starting to get annoyed. “Why is it so hard just to get in?” Yan Shanyue placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. She didn’t speak, but her presence calmed Yang Ling considerably.

“Brute-forcing it probably won’t work,” Qing He said. “Didn’t you say this was a territory of a demon witch? Maybe you need some kind of witchcraft.”

Wei Huan also felt something was off, but he didn’t dare recklessly touch the door to avoid causing a bigger problem. As he approached, he noticed a small circular hole on the door, cleverly blended into the intricate patterns of the carved incantations—it would’ve been almost impossible to spot.

“Hey, you idiot human, why are you getting so close?”

“I just wanted to—ah, ah—”

Before he could finish, Wei Huan suddenly felt a strong force wrapping around him. Looking down, he saw vines sprouting directly from the stone door, tightly binding his body and forcing him against the cold surface of the door.

His eyes were perfectly aligned with the small peephole. At first, it was pitch black inside. Then, a flash of blood-red light flickered past, making him dizzy and faint.

“Ah Heng!”

“Hang on, we’ll get you out of there!”

The others quickly worked to cut the vines, but just as they were doing so, the strange vines suddenly loosened and released Wei Huan, gently setting him back on the ground. His body was completely unharmed.

At that moment, a clear, ethereal voice came from within the door. It sounded like a young girl.

“It’s been a long time.”

The stone door suddenly creaked open to both sides, producing a loud grinding sound. While everyone was still trying to figure out what just happened, that floating voice appeared again.

“You’ve come back?”

What was going on? Who had come back?

The other four immediately looked at Wei Huan, who instinctively raised his hand. “I swear I’ve never been here before.”

The view beyond the stone door finally revealed itself—and it was nothing like the dark, eerie witchcraft sanctum they had imagined. Instead, before them stretched a seemingly endless staircase, with perhaps thousands of steps spiraling down.

There were no creepy demonic totems here, but rather a pristine, sunken modern cityscape. Tall buildings stood in neat rows, separated by clean intersecting streets. The public infrastructure was fully intact. Though it couldn’t compare to Kunlun Void, it was no less than many major cities in the demon realm.

Only one thing was different—there wasn’t a single living creature here.

“Did you summon light?” Yan Shanyue suddenly asked.

“No,” Wei Huan touched the bracelet on his wrist.

Qing He also noticed something. “Then why is it so bright down there? There’s clearly no daylight in here.”

Exactly. Wei Huan looked up—above them was a thick, completely sealed ceiling. Where was the light coming from?

Behind them, the stone door slowly closed again. The ethereal voice did not return, and they saw no one.

“Let’s head down,” Wei Huan said, taking the lead. Yang Ling, unwilling to walk the stairs, simply spread her wings and dove down, landing first on the ground level of the underground city. She looked around and marveled, “So this is what an underground city looks like.”

The others soon followed. Wei Huan felt increasingly uneasy. Although everything here was perfectly intact, not even a tiny demon or a sprite could be seen. The entire city was cold, quiet, and completely deserted.

“No wonder Boss Jue said this was a ghost city…” Jing Yun hugged his arms. “There really isn’t a single thing here.”

“Hey.” Qing He nudged Wei Huan with his elbow. Wei Huan turned his head and saw Qing He pointing upwards. “Look.”

Wei Huan looked up—and instantly froze.

“What is that…”

Above them, far above the tall skyscrapers, was a vast, clear blue sky.

How was that possible?

Everyone looked up. The bright blue sky overhead was almost too real, and even the clouds drifted naturally with the wind.

Jing Yun frowned in confusion. “That’s so strange. It didn’t look like this just a moment ago…”

“Yeah,” Yang Ling tilted her head. “Could this also be some kind of witchcraft?”

They continued moving forward. Everything here was so perfectly constructed that it hardly seemed fake—shops selling demon fruits, sky restaurants, luxury hotels, overpasses and aerial railways—everything that a demon city should have was all present here.

Even though they were standing in this clean and beautiful underground metropolis, Wei Huan couldn’t help but feel entirely uncomfortable.

Suddenly, a soft girl’s laugh echoed by his ear.

Wei Huan whipped his head around—there was nothing there.

“Did you guys hear that?”

This time, the voice seemed different from before, and none of the others heard it. Qing He asked, “What voice?”

Wei Huan didn’t answer, just shook his head. But after just a few more steps, he heard that girl’s laughter again, as if it came from a faraway place.

“I heard it,” Qing He spoke from beside him.

Yang Ling also nodded. “I heard it too.”

So it wasn’t an illusion.

In an instant, their surroundings shifted from day to night. A lone moon forcibly occupied the sky, driving away the sun that had previously hung there. The cold moonlight draped over the already icy city, casting it in an even colder glow. The street they stood on lost the last trace of life the sunlight had provided, becoming more silent and desolate.

A sudden gust of wind stirred, tree shadows swaying on the ground.

Wei Huan’s hair was blown up. He raised his right hand in front of him, and the bracelet on his wrist instantly transformed into a long blade, which he gripped tightly.

“Be careful, there’s something wrong with this wind.”

Just as he finished speaking, the girl’s soft, airy voice drifted through the air. “What’s wrong with it? Isn’t it pretty?”

Before her voice faded, slender red petals came fluttering in the wind—a rain of flowers—but they were too red, red like blood.

Wei Huan spoke up, “You’re the Dark Witch Princess, aren’t you?”

As soon as he said it, the petals suddenly froze midair.

“It’s too quiet here,” her voice now sounded a little aggrieved. “Since you’ve come, it should liven up a bit. Even though I can’t see, I can still…” she paused slightly.

The suspended petals suddenly shifted and morphed, transforming into a sheet of red paper-cut art.

“…still hear the sound of screams.”

Before their eyes, the red paper cut slowly took shape. Qing He’s eyes widened in alarm. “That’s a human shape?”

Wei Huan frowned irritably—just as things had settled down, here they go again. “Be careful, it’s witchcraft.”

Yan Shanyue tried to seize the initiative, sending foxfire to control as many of the red paper cuts as possible. But this move seemed to anger the Dark Witch Princess.

“So impatient.”

Suddenly, behind Yan Shanyue, hundreds more paper cuts appeared—vastly outnumbering those from before. The dense red sheets blotted out the sky as they swirled into a tornado and lunged toward Yan Shanyue. She twisted and dodged, barely evading them. Yang Ling, desperate to protect her sister, hurled one lotus fire after another, trying to blast the red current apart.

But these things were incredibly agile. Before Yang Ling’s lotus fire could explode, they scattered, then regrouped right after the blasts ended. Yan Shanyue leaned back sharply as the stream of paper swept past, circling once in the night sky.

Wei Huan’s gaze locked onto the red paper cuts as they dispersed from a single mass into individual sheets, gradually filling the night sky.

Each paper figure spoke in unison, their voices childlike:

“Welcome to Wuqi.”

Then, as if the spell lost control, the paper cuts began to drift down. Once they touched the ground, they started to squirm, expand, bend, twist—until they transformed into humanoid shapes. These red monsters had faces, but no features—completely smooth, their entire bodies blood-red, their figures long and thin, crawling eerily along the ground.

Jing Yun shuddered. “They—they turned into people?”

Yang Ling’s palm flared with fire as she stepped beside Yan Shanyue. “These are monsters, right?”

Qing He loaded his gun. “There are monsters like this?”

“Who cares if they’re human or monster, they’re disgusting. Just kill them all.” Wei Huan, a notorious appearance snob, was nearly traumatized by the sight. He rolled his neck and spread his arms wide, a pair of golden long blades materializing in his hands.

Qing He commented dryly, “Wow, you really look just like your husband when you’re like this.”

Wei Huan: “…”

The red monsters in front of them had already charged, moving much faster than Wei Huan had expected. Once they locked onto a target, they darted forward at terrifying speed.

One monster lunged at Wei Huan, reaching out its hand. Wei Huan twisted his body, dodging the strike—but saw that the monster’s red hand was no longer a hand. Its fingers had mutated and split, sprouting countless razor-sharp hooks from its palm, resembling a blooming spider lily.

Wei Huan slashed the grotesque “hand” clean off with one swing.

“Yang Ling, fly up! Target the outermost ring!” His wrists flicked, his blades tearing through the long night and the sea of red. “Shanyue! Gather all these disgusting things together so Yang Ling can blast them at once!”

“Got it.”

The red monsters were engulfed by Yan Shanyue’s blue foxfire. They struggled fiercely but were forcibly bound together by her power. A massive Bifang lotus fire descended from the sky, exploding with a thunderous boom, blasting the monsters into a pulp that finally oozed onto the ground as some kind of sticky fluid.

Wei Huan’s blades slashed rapidly. Red liquid flowed from his blade to his grip, causing him to frown.

“This smell…”

Yan Shanyue pinned down a monster that was about to sneak up on Wei Huan and flung it into the sky. “It smells like plants.”

That’s right.

More and more of the writhing monsters swarmed toward them like zombies. Each one had a featureless, alien face—an endless tide, impossible to kill fast enough.

Wei Huan’s arms didn’t stop for a moment, his twin blades flashing as the radiant golden light of the sunbird enveloped him, making him look like a full moon sinking into a blood-red mire.

More red paper cuts drifted from the sky. As soon as they hit the ground, they became solid monsters, one after another crawling up from the earth.

Seeing the growing number of enemies, Wei Huan clenched his molars.

If it were before—

If he still had the Soul Splitting Technique inherited from his mother…

Suddenly, his heart gave two powerful thumps. Wei Huan instinctively lowered his head, his eyes unconsciously widening.

He felt like his body was about to split apart—

Split in two.

Even Qing He noticed something was wrong with Wei Huan. His finger paused on the trigger. “Hey, what’s going on with you… Am I seeing things?” He turned his head and saw Yan Shanyue was also looking. “Fox! Look at him—is there something on his body…”

“There’s an illusion.” Yan Shanyue formed a spell with her fingers and conjured a blue defensive barrier in front of Wei Huan.

Watching everyone fully engaged in battle, Jing Yun’s guilt grew heavier. He knew he wasn’t a main combatant, but he was always holding his breath for everyone’s sake.

He quickly scanned the surroundings—streets, shops, buildings, trees…

Trees?

Jing Yun froze.

The illusion and the strange sensations didn’t last long. The disturbance in his heart vanished in a flash. Wei Huan shook his head, and a long blade appeared once again in his hand. “I’m fine. Just got a bit dizzy.”

Yan Shanyue’s barrier didn’t last long. In the very next second after Wei Huan regained clarity, the cold blue dome began to crack.

Crack. A sound so faint it was barely audible.

But to the monsters, it was as if a signal had been fired that prey was on the loose.

They had no eyes or ears, yet they surged toward Wei Huan as if by instinct, layer upon layer surrounding him. Twisted, grotesque bodies emitted deafening shrieks, hysterical, as sharp claws reached out for him.

“Ah Heng! Dodge—!”

Suddenly hearing Jing Yun’s shout from behind, the surrounded Wei Huan had nowhere to escape. The light blades in both hands quickly morphed, under mental control, into two hooked light-cables. His eyes locked onto the railing on the second floor of a nearby shop. With a swing of his arm, the light-cable shot out and latched on tightly. Wei Huan leapt up, grabbing the cable and flying out of the monster swarm.

Suspended in mid-air, Wei Huan looked back—and was shocked. Jing Yun had actually uprooted a large tree from the roadside, charging into that field of crimson with both man and tree. Hugging the roots, he spun in three full circles inside, the wildly rotating trunk plowing through and disrupting all the entangling, blood-red monsters, leaving them no chance to counterattack.

“…D*mn.” Wei Huan, dangling in the air, instinctively swallowed. “Didn’t Yang Sheng say he liked quiet types? I’m way more gentle than this guy, okay?”

Qing He stood there dumbfounded. “Human meat grinder. D*mn impressive.”

All nearby monsters were flattened by Jing Yun, reverting back to their paper-cut forms.

“Is it over?” Yang Ling stood on top of a utility pole, peering down.

“Should be.” Wei Huan glanced at her. “Can you not stand on a pole? You look just like a bird.”

Despite using up so much energy, Jing Yun acted as if nothing had happened. Without a word, he tossed the thick tree trunk in his arms to the ground. Boom! A thunderous crash—earth shaking, mountains trembling.

Wei Huan had just swung down from the light-cable when the impact knocked him flat on his butt. It was awkward as h*ll. He scrambled to his feet and patted his rear like a nagging housekeeper. “Easy, easy—you’re not afraid of crushing your own feet?”

“Sorry, sorry.” Jing Yun reflexively went to grab the trunk again, but crouched halfway before Wei Huan shouted, “Don’t move—I just got my footing.”

Yan Shanyue looked at the wreckage. “What do we do with all this paper?”

Qing He chimed in, “Time for the cremation team captain to show his real skills!”

Wei Huan couldn’t be bothered with him. The light-cable had somehow returned to the shape of a long blade again. He slung the flat of the blade over his shoulder. “Forget it. We didn’t come here just to fight. Waste of energy. Let’s focus on finding the dark witch.”

The group gathered and moved forward together, leaving behind a field of red paper-cuts. The desolate night wind swept through, sending chills down their spines.

Yan Shanyue took the lead, asking Yang Ling if she was hurt. Qing He walked while checking his remaining ammo. Wei Huan was in decent spirits, humming a little tune.

Midway through, he suddenly stopped.

“What is it?” Yang Ling deliberately teased, “Realized you were off-key?”

Carrying the blade on his shoulder, Wei Huan came to a halt and frowned.

“So annoying.”

Before anyone could react, Wei Huan turned around. The previously scattered red paper-cuts had now merged into a massive, closed flower. Its vine tendrils shot toward him like lightning-fast serpents, the gusts of wind blowing the hair from his forehead.

Wei Huan didn’t move a muscle.

“Careful—!”

The serpent-like tip struck the golden mark at his brow.

Boom! A massive burst of golden Golden Crow demon energy exploded from Wei Huan’s brow, sending out a terrifying shockwave. The others couldn’t even see what had happened clearly—only that scarlet flames devoured the vine in an instant, turning it into a blazing line of fire.

The searing flames twisted and distorted the air.

“What a powerful fire.” Even Yang Ling, attuned to the flame element, couldn’t help but gasp.

The fire consumed everything in its path, finally reaching the giant closed flower.

“I was wrong,” that ethereal voice came again, with a touch of puzzlement. “Your demon aura…”

Under the roaring fire, the red petals slowly began to bloom—one by one.

But she seemed to quickly understand. “I see. So it’s you who came.”

Wei Huan finally saw her clearly. A woman dressed entirely in red stood at the heart of the flower. Her body was adorned with white bone ornaments. A dark red veil covered her head, hiding most of her face, leaving only her eyes exposed—beautiful, but entirely white, with no pupils.

“Weren’t you looking for me? Come on, then.”

She stared at them with those hollow eyes. Seeing no one approach, she raised a hand and began to trace something into the air with her fingers.

“Jing Yun—on your back!” Yang Ling, standing behind, suddenly spotted the talisman smoke that had dissipated earlier reappearing on Jing Yun’s back.

Yan Shanyue frowned. “Not good. That talisman’s been lying dormant on him.”

Under the control of the woman in red, the talisman split into five in midair.

“You all look tired. Why not take a little rest?”

The talismans flew down, piercing through each person’s chest.

Her voice was soft and ethereal. “How about a dream?”

“Who the f*ck wants to dream?!” Wei Huan looked up, and a flurry of razor-sharp light blades swept toward the woman in red.

“Even though I was mistaken…” The red-clothed woman curved her lips. The light blades pierced through her, yet it was like daggers thrown into a lake’s reflection. Ripples scattered, then restored — all illusions.

“But you really do look like him.”

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