Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 96

As the Federation’s election day drew near, media coverage was overwhelming, filled with speeches from the candidates. Although there were many in the running, only a few were truly competitive. Yun Ting was a master of public opinion warfare—he revived the legacy of the original Golden Crow and stirred up massive online discussion.

Meanwhile, some outlets began digging into Yun Yongzhou’s background. With masterful writing, they portrayed him as someone who had long served at the grassroots level while also contributing greatly to peace and stability through his leadership in the Shanhai Reserve Force. Glowing praise flowed freely. A noble-born yet humble “First Young Master” image was quickly constructed. Using media and public opinion, they shaped Yun Yongzhou into the second coming of the original Golden Crow.

Wei Huan had always known how the game was played. Under such a system, elections were nothing but a contest of narrative and money. The Nine-Tails’ financial groups and Yun Ting were like grasshoppers tied to the same string—mutually exploiting and coexisting. The general public barely cared about politics. What they saw were curated illusions displayed by the elite. What they heard was pre-packaged “first-hand” information. That ballot was already being pulled by an invisible hand, slowly guiding it into the desired box.

From beginning to end, it was all manipulation via asymmetric information.

“Looks like Yun Ting’s going to win for sure,” Qing He said while packing. “Based on his political vision, Fanzhou is bound to become a colony of the Demon Domain. Might even be swallowed without a fight.”

Wei Huan leaned against the door, eyes downcast.

He knew exactly what happened to colonies. The previous war had already devastated humanity—shrinking territories, slashed population. If the Demon Domain took control, humanity might go extinct in a hundred years.

No matter how deep the rift between humans and demons, life was innocent. No one should become someone else’s captive.

Qing He slung his large black backpack over his shoulders and walked over. Wei Huan turned and stepped outside. “I don’t think it’s going to be that simple. Don’t you think the radical faction opposing Yun Ting—Song Chengkang’s group—are just going to sit back and watch him take power?”

Qing He shook his head. “That’s logical, sure. But at this point the outcome’s basically sealed. How’s one human radical faction supposed to shake the position of the Demon Federation’s Prime Minister? Practically impossible.”

Wei Huan didn’t argue.

“When that time comes, it’ll be even harder for Instructor Yun to back out,” Qing He added, slinging an arm around his shoulder. “Though you don’t seem too worried.”

Wei Huan curved his lips into a smile. “It’s not that I’m not worried—I just trust him.”

Qing He raised a brow as Wei Huan continued.

“Yun Yongzhou’s strength is beyond anyone’s imagination. He was the only opponent I ever acknowledged in the past.” Wei Huan’s smile was open and sincere. “I trust him, no matter what.”

The communicator crackled with Jing Yun’s voice. “Ah Heng, are you ready? We’re all set.”

“OK.” Wei Huan adjusted the comm unit behind his ear and opened the barrier. Qing He put on his eye mask and followed him through. The next second, they appeared in front of Boss Jue’s doll shop. Jing Yun was helping Yang Ling tie her braids while Yang Ling searched frantically for a hair tie. Yan Shanyue calmly took his own off and handed it over. Boss Jue was fanning herself with a tiny folding fan. When she saw Wei Huan appear, her face lit up in delight. “Aiya, you’re finally here—I’ve been waiting forever!”

Wei Huan broke out in goosebumps. Ever since Zhang Jue found out he was a descendant of the Nine Phoenix, she had been thinking day and night about the clan’s inheritance. But the truth was, even Wei Huan himself didn’t know where it was. After all, his current identity wasn’t some powerful great demon—he was a dead one.

Yan Shanyue turned to look at him, the snow-white fox fur pendant on her earlobe swaying. “You’re not going to tell Yun Yongzhou?”

Wei Huan deliberately teased her, “What ‘Yun Yongzhou’? Even if he’s not your instructor anymore, you should be calling him older brother.” The words made Yan Shanyue pause, a little caught off guard. Wei Huan didn’t keep teasing and smiled. “Relax, I told him. I don’t want to make him mad again.”

“Exactly. You just started dating, don’t go fighting all the time,” Qing He chimed in, poking fun.

Yang Ling leaned over, grinning as she grabbed Wei Huan’s arm. “I know, I know! Brother Yongzhou would definitely say something like this—” She put on a serious face and imitated Yun Yongzhou’s tone, “‘If anything happens, you must tell me immediately.’”

Wei Huan poked her forehead. “Wow, not bad. Didn’t miss a word.”

“Of course~”

They headed to the Wuqi barrier. To everyone’s surprise, the usual pit of bones outside the barrier wasn’t there. Once it activated, it felt as though they had been transported directly into the underground city behind the gate. But this time, there were no illusions—no dazzling underground city. Only a pure, suffocating darkness, where they couldn’t even see their own hands.

Wei Huan summoned the power of the Golden Crow. The bracelet on his wrist instantly transformed into a sky full of starlight, lighting up the area around them. It looked similar to when they had emerged from the Nightmare Realm—everything in ruins. Except now, there were no more towering bian flowers.

“What did she say to you?” Wei Huan asked, walking beside Boss Jue. “Why doesn’t she find an apprentice—why you?”

Boss Jue replied, “I asked her the same thing. She said… she’s out of time.”

Jing Yun tested cautiously, “Out of time meaning… she’s dying?”

“What else could it mean?” Qing He shook his head.

“Who knows. That wildflower’s occupied someone else’s nest for so many years—it’s karma,” Boss Jue said harshly, though her eyes lowered. Starlight dotted her orange hair and lashes, making her look a little soft despite the bite in her words. “Only when she’s burned herself out does she think of handing over her spot.”

Wei Huan chuckled. “If Shahua hadn’t taken your place as dark witch, you might’ve been the poor soul guarding this tomb of the living dead.”

As they walked forward through the darkness, the scent of bian flowers grew stronger, as if guiding them onward, toward that single flower blooming in the shadows.

Yan Shanyue stepped up behind Wei Huan and whispered, “This scent… it’s the one I smell on Teacher Su.”

“Mm.”

And with every encounter with Buyu, that scent had grown heavier.

Suddenly, red petals like long ribbons appeared in the air. As they drifted down, a familiar, ghostly voice echoed from afar.

“You’ve come.”

Boss Jue halted and scanned the surroundings. “You called me here. What are you hiding for now?”

The voice let out a faint laugh, echoing in the hollow underground. “You came just because I called?”

Zhang Jue was incensed. “You—!”

“You came and even brought all these people,” Shahua said, amused. “I can’t tell if you’re clever or just foolish.”

Boss Jue looked about ready to explode, but Yan Shanyue stepped in to stop her. “She’s always cunning—don’t fall for it.”

Yang Ling crossed her arms and snorted. “That witch’s sly as a fox. Bet she lured you here on purpose—never meant to hand over Wuqi’s shamanic legacy.”

Shahua kept laughing, her voice hazy, falling from above like a drifting petal. Wei Huan listened and felt a strange melancholy, like flowers blooming in late autumn. She was probably just putting on a brave face now.

Boss Jue tamped down her fury and called out, “Come out and say it to our faces. Otherwise, I’m leaving. You don’t exactly look like someone too pressed for time—still got plenty of energy for drama.”

Just as she finished speaking, a red veil appeared out of thin air before them, drifting downward. A burst of crimson mist bloomed, and when it cleared, Shahua stood in front of them in full red attire. It was different from before—last time she only covered the lower half of her face with a veil, but now the entire thing draped over her head, hiding everything.

She looked almost like a bride.

“Don’t leave.”

Even though she was standing so close, her voice still echoed as if from far away—a projection through demon-sorcery. Boss Jue squinted at her, suspicious.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blew past.

“So creepy!” Jing Yun was the first to sense something wrong and ducked behind Yang Ling. “L-look at her feet!”

Qing He gasped. “This…”

Wei Huan frowned. The wind lifted the hem of Shahua’s red dress—there was nothing underneath. Just an empty black void.

She had no feet. No legs.

Shahua stepped back two paces. Her voice floated in, part mournful, part mocking. “Frightened you?”

Boss Jue was shaken. “What the h*ll is going on? Where’s the body my master gave you? First the eyes, then your throat—” She stormed forward and grabbed at Shahua’s arm—only to catch air. Her fingers clutched empty fabric. The soft red sleeve slipped away like sand through a sieve. Her pupils dilated in shock. “You don’t even have limbs anymore!? Is this how you repay our master!?”

“Repay what?” Shahua said indifferently, her tone even a bit careless. “She was your master, not mine.”

That line enraged Zhang Jue. “You ungrateful wretch! If not for Master, you’d never have had a human body—you’d still be some cursed flower on someone’s grave, doomed to rot!”

Shahua laughed coldly. “You’re right. But you better understand—she was your master, not mine. She was kind, yes—but all that kindness was for you. She drew you your human form with her own hand. She loved you. She wouldn’t let you follow in her footsteps, wasting away your lifespan. That’s why she didn’t let you inherit the title of dark witch. I begged her for a human form—and she made me trade my freedom and life to get it.”

Boss Jue froze on the spot, momentarily unsure of what to say.

Wei Huan looked at the red veil on Shahua’s face and said gravely, “I don’t understand. If you wanted a human body so badly, then why end up like this—with nothing at all?”

Shahua had been looking only at Boss Jue, but now she stiffly turned her head toward Wei Huan, as if she’d just heard a joke so ridiculous she couldn’t believe it. That empty body of hers passed through Boss Jue and stopped in front of Wei Huan.

Wei Huan could feel her fading demon heart, and through the translucent red veil, he saw her eyes—entirely white.

Shahua let out a sharp, bitter laugh.

“Of course you don’t understand.” She shook her head, and her voice suddenly turned harsh. “There’s no one more clueless or more brazen in this world than you. People like you, who gain everything without lifting a finger—what right do you have to question me?”

Wei Huan stared into her eyes. The fingers hanging at his sides twitched slightly—then suddenly, a Reverse-Water Sealing Talisman shot out. At the same moment, Yan Shanyue’s cold, blue foxfire encircled them, forming an inescapable, dome-like barrier. The moment the talisman stuck to Shahua, she froze in place. Wei Huan reached out and yanked off her veil. “Jing Yun!”

Jing Yun responded from behind him. The golden Demon Sigil on his wrist shone brightly. His pupils became double irises, and as he laid his hand on Shahua, Yan Shanyue released her Yuzao Mirror, which hovered in the air and used Ocular Divination to weave an illusion from her memories.

“Be quick about it,” Boss Jue reminded them. “Her witch power is greatly weakened, but she’s still not much weaker than I am. Who knows how long that seal will hold.”

“Got it!” Jing Yun nodded and silently chanted the Heart Mantra of Chongming. The illusion began to shift.

Yan Shanyue said, “She used to be a bian flower. If we want to understand what happened with Wuqi, we probably need to start from her earliest memories.” As she spoke, the image rewound rapidly until the surroundings were completely engulfed in white light. Everyone squinted, waiting for the brightness to fade—and slowly, a new scene came into focus.

The field of vision was fixed and very low, blocked mostly by deep grass that swayed gently, as if in the wind. All they could see were barren earth, endless weeds, and headstones—many headstones.

“She was still a flower at this point, right?” Qing He narrowed his eyes and said, “These gravestones… don’t tell me she really did grow on someone’s grave?”

Wei Huan stood silently, not saying a word.

He only felt a deep sorrow. Even a flower could retain memories—what kind of powerful obsession must that be?

As they waited, a faint rustling broke the silence, like someone stepping through grass. Soon enough, a pair of legs appeared near a crumbling headstone. The person wore very old, plain white sneakers—probably a boy—but due to the angle, they couldn’t see his upper body, let alone his face. They watched as he bent down, kneeling before the stone, seemingly in mourning. But he said nothing, didn’t bring any offerings, just silently knelt there.

“Who’s that?” Yang Ling asked.

After a long while, the boy finally stood up and turned, as if to leave. But after only a few steps, he hesitated, then shifted direction. Slowly, those white sneakers drew nearer and nearer—heading straight toward their viewpoint.

He stopped, and a pair of fair hands parted the grass that had blocked their view.

He knelt on one knee, his pant leg lifting slightly to reveal a sliver of snow-white ankle.

Wei Huan suddenly froze. The warm sunlight just happened to fall on the skin at his ankle, reflecting a faint, dazzling shimmer.

Scales in the shape of teardrops. He knew what that was. He couldn’t be wrong.

“So beautiful,” came the gentle voice of a young boy, soft as water on the wind.

It was the voice he knew best.