Everyone Is Non-Human Except Me [Rebirth] Chapter 97

Wei Huan’s palms were icy cold.

He’d long suspected something lingering between Su Buyu and Shahua, but he had never thought in this direction. Even though he’d just deliberately provoked Shahua with those words, when she’d snapped back, “No one is more clueless or more entitled than you,” Wei Huan had still been stunned.

So that’s what it was.

Thinking back, all the malice and sarcasm Shahua had shown from the start now made a strange kind of sense.

Su Buyu’s face now appeared in their vision—he looked about sixteen or seventeen, with the air of youth about him and a soft voice to match. “There’s such a beautiful flower here…” he murmured, gently pushing aside the grass to look closer, his face full of admiration.

Wei Huan knew that look all too well. They must have already known each other by then. If memory served, Su Buyu’s mother had passed away during his high school years.

Su Buyu had once told him: he used to think he could finish school properly and then take his mother to live with him and care for her. But in the end, she didn’t even make it to his graduation. She died at home, her body only discovered over ten days later. By the time Su Buyu knew, she had already been cremated.

He took a week off from school and returned to Fanzhou, found a remote graveyard, and buried her ashes with a simple stone.

He didn’t want his mother to disappear from the world without leaving a single trace.

In the illusion, the young Su Buyu reached out and lightly touched a petal—but in the end, he pulled his hand back and stood up.

His footsteps gradually faded. They could feel clearly that Su Buyu had left.

Jing Yun continued probing Shahua’s memories. Time passed, but the graveyard remained desolate. No one else appeared. Before long, Su Buyu returned again. Just like before, he quietly knelt before his mother’s grave and wiped the dust from her headstone. Unlike others, he never spoke to her—just stared silently, burying everything deep in his heart.

The bian flower, hidden among the blades of grass, quietly kept him company.

This time, before leaving, he intentionally walked over to the nearby grave and glanced at the flower. When he saw that it was still there, a trace of delight visibly crossed his face. But he didn’t do anything—he only said gently, “After I went back the other day, I looked it up. So your name is Manzhuhuasha—what a beautiful name.” He lightly touched a petal. “I don’t know how long your blooming season lasts. I hope I can still see you next time.”

If not for that gentle gesture, this flower would have been just another living being in the world. But because of those simple words, this bian flower was given the heart to wait.

Perhaps it was because they had known the ending from the very start—once inside the ocular divination illusion, no one said much. The atmosphere was heavy. Jing Yun continued to adjust the vision. When Su Buyu appeared again, the grass before them had already withered and yellowed, and the viewpoint had lowered—much lower than before.

The dry season had come, and no rain had fallen on this barren land for a long time. Even the sound of Su Buyu’s footsteps had changed as dry grass snapped underfoot.

It seemed to be a special day. He carried a small bouquet of flowers, which he placed in front of his mother’s grave. Then he knelt silently for a whole hour, doing nothing else. As usual, he wiped the dust off her gravestone, then turned his head to look in the direction of the bian flower.

He walked over and crouched down, his voice filled with relief. “Good thing you’re still here.”

Su Buyu extended his index finger. Just as it neared the red petals, a single, clear drop of water fell.

“So dry, huh? Poor little flower…”

The moment the drop fell, it created a tiny spherical barrier around the bian flower. It gave off a faint greenish glow, like a little bubble, enclosing the flower within. While drought gripped the outside world, this droplet of a barrier created a moist, warm little sanctuary, offering the flower hope for survival.

“That’s better.” Su Buyu smiled.

“Whenever I see you here,” he said softly, sitting on the dry grass in front of the flower, “I feel like my mom isn’t alone. At least there’s a pretty little flower keeping her company.”

As he said this, he lowered his eyes and smiled. “Thank you.”

He wasn’t the kind of person who liked to talk much. He sat quietly, saying no more. Only when dusk began to fall and shadows draped across his back did he finally speak again. “It’s getting late. I need to go back to school. I’ll come visit you next time.”

Just that one sentence plunged the bian flower into a cycle of endless waiting. Luckily, Su Buyu’s visits were fairly regular—once every two weeks, and later, even more frequently. But even so, whenever she waited under the water barrier infused with his demon aura and he didn’t appear, the bian flower would begin to grow anxious, even panicked. These were feelings no flower should ever possess—but she had been given them.

The moment a living thing develops desire, it begins to change.

That’s how many demons and monsters in this world are born.

Then, one month passed. Su Buyu didn’t return.

She wanted to see him. But she had no feet to walk with, no way to leave this place and run to him. No arms to embrace him. Only a flower root forever anchored in the earth. If she left this barren, shadowed soil, she would wither and die without a sound. This hopeless longing sharpened her consciousness—so sharply that even those within the illusion could feel its spread.

As the scene continued to unfold, a figure in black appeared. Before the others could react, Boss Jue spoke first: “Master…”

It was the previous Dark Witch Princess.

Wei Huan asked, “Why would your master come to Fanzhou?”

Boss Jue shook her head. “I don’t remember. But sometimes she would go to Fanzhou on behalf of someone else. Maybe she was just passing through?”

In the vision, the Dark Witch approached the bian flower. They couldn’t see her face—only her long black gown, and the dark, witchy aura swirling around her.

“Was it your flower soul that kept following me?” she asked suddenly, her tone calm. “What is it that you want?”

Yang Ling muttered, “So Shahua’s flower soul was following Boss Jue’s master all along? That’s some serious obsession…”

Boss Jue didn’t speak. She quietly watched her master—she couldn’t remember how long it had been since she last heard that voice.

The Dark Witch Princess raised her hand and cast a spell. Her black aura pierced through the water bubble and touched the petals. Suddenly, they heard Shahua’s voice.

“I want a body that can walk freely. I don’t want to be a flower anymore.”

The Dark Witch Princess paused, then said, “You could cultivate by absorbing spiritual energy. Maybe after a few decades…”

“I can’t wait that long. Lord Dark Witch Princess, please help me.”

Hearing the desperation in her voice, the Dark Witch replied, “You want a body from me? Then you should know—I only deal in exchanges. I don’t give handouts.”

“I’m willing to trade!” After gaining the ability to speak, Shahua grew even more anxious. She desperately hoped the boy—whose name she didn’t even know—could hear her voice, could see her. “I’ll give everything I have in exchange. As long as you can give me a body.”

“Are you sure you can bear the cost? Even if it means your life?”

Shahua answered with absolute certainty: “Yes.”

In the end, the Dark Witch Princess agreed. Her dark powers uprooted the bian flower. The vision lifted upward, and through Shahua’s eyes, they finally saw the Dark Witch’s full appearance. She brought Shahua back to Wuqi’s grand underground city. Using manzhuhuasha petals, she molded a beautiful body for her—and gave her the name Shahua.

When Shahua first saw her own reflection in the mirror, their vision turned damp and blurry. That complicated mix of emotions flowed through the ocular illusion and into their hearts, evoking an uncanny empathy.

“As promised,” the Dark Witch Princess said, “I gave you a body. Now let me tell you what the price is.” With a wave of her hand, the city filled with flowers, birds, and trees instantly turned into a wasteland of darkness.

“This is the real Wuqi,” the Dark Witch Princess said. “What you need to do is succeed me as the Dark Witch Princess once I die. I will pass down all my sorcery to you. But you must know—once you become the Dark Witch Princess, your lifespan will be reduced to fifteen years.”

She knew such a price wouldn’t be easy for a newly-formed demon flower to accept. So she added, “Before that, you’ll stay here to study sorcery. During the rest of the time, you can go anywhere you want.” The Dark Witch Princess coughed a few times and sat down. “Don’t worry, I’m not dying anytime soon. During this time, I won’t stop you from doing anything you want.”

The vision wavered—Wei Huan could feel Shahua’s inner turmoil and unwillingness, but she had no other choice. While she still had a brief period of freedom, she sought out Su Buyu’s figure. She waited outside his school after classes. The school had strict rules and didn’t allow outsiders to enter, but one day, she finally saw Su Buyu at the school gate. Yet in that moment, she suddenly lost her courage. She didn’t know how to approach him, or whether she should even walk up to him and tell him she was the manzhuhuasha flower that had always been waiting for him.

So, she chose to admire him in secret, quietly observing from the sidelines. She tried asking around and eventually learned the name of this gentle boy. That night, she repeated the words “Su Buyu” dozens of times.

Buyu. Buyu.

In Shahua’s perspective, there was always someone beside Su Buyu—everyone could see it. It was Wei Huan, from over ten years ago. He was in his prime, full of youthful energy, always smiling, glowing like a star—the eternal center of attention.

Su Buyu’s gaze had never left him.

Realizing this brought Shahua anguish. She didn’t yet understand what this pain meant, only that she no longer wanted to hide. She knew her freedom was nearly gone. At last, one day, when Su Buyu was alone, she walked up to him.

“H-Hi.” She had rehearsed this moment a hundred times in her heart, but now that it came, she was so nervous she could barely speak, her mind a jumbled mess. She just wanted to say everything she had held in for so long. “I… I like you.”

Su Buyu’s expression clearly showed surprise. The confession came out of nowhere—he couldn’t connect the girl before him with the bian flower he once knelt beside. To him, she was just a brave stranger, so he offered a slightly awkward smile.

“I’m sorry… I already have someone I like.”

Those words were like a hammer blow, dragging her straight into hell. The emotional resonance of the vision allowed Wei Huan to feel Shahua’s agony in that moment. He had expected her to struggle more—but she pretended to be calm and said lightly, “It’s okay. It’s really okay.”

“Thank you.” She lowered her head.

Su Buyu didn’t understand what she meant by that thank-you. He only felt a little sorry.

Shahua gathered her emotions, raised her head, and produced a Wuqi barrier talisman from her hand. She handed it to Su Buyu, who looked at her in confusion. She stuffed the talisman into his hand and said, “I’m a demon witch from Wuqi. If you ever need help, you can come find me there.”

Her voice trembled, but she still smiled. “Be sure to remember that.”

She probably just wanted Su Buyu to come to Wuqi, Wei Huan thought.

Suddenly, Wei Huan noticed Jing Yun staggering. No one else could see his condition because they weren’t using borrowed vision. Wei Huan quickly stepped up to support him. “Are you okay?”

Jing Yun’s face was pale. “I don’t know. My head hurts. My body feels weak.”

“How could this happen?” Wei Huan grabbed his hand—it was ice-cold. No wonder he hadn’t spoken at all during the vision. “You’ve never reacted this strongly to ocular divination before. Stop now. Don’t push yourself.” He looked over at Shahua, who was still under their control—she seemed unchanged.

But Jing Yun insisted, “I’ll lean back. I’ll be fine. I’ll speed things up.” With that, he activated his spiritual energy, and a brilliant yellow light burst from him. The scenery around them began to shift rapidly—time flowed forward, flashing past like a slideshow.

In the fast-moving vision, Boss Jue saw the moment her master passed. It lasted only a second, but it pierced her like a blade.

She looked at Shahua and said to Wei Huan, “Her demon witch power is still strong. She might be using the ocular vision to absorb Little Chongming’s energy.”

Wei Huan frowned deeply. But he couldn’t talk Jing Yun out of it. Suddenly, Su Buyu appeared in the vision again. He had finally come to Wuqi. Shahua was no longer that innocent girl, but the moment she saw Su Buyu, her heart trembled all the same.

“I thought you’d never come here in your whole life.” Shahua walked toward him, one step at a time. “Actually, if you hadn’t come, that would’ve been better for me. At least I could tell myself you had no regrets.”

Su Buyu’s face was deathly pale. He looked like he’d just recovered from a serious illness—it made Shahua’s heart ache.

He said, “I heard that the Dark Witch Princess of Wuqi can summon the dead.”

Shahua suddenly laughed. In that instant, she was reminded of all those days she had watched him outside the school gates, and her laughter turned hauntingly beautiful. “Why do you all want to summon souls?”

Su Buyu’s expression shifted.

“You’re too late.” Shahua didn’t say more. Looking at his hollowed expression, her heart turned cold. “What other requests do you have? In Wuqi, I can fulfill your greatest wish—but only if you offer a sacrifice of equal value.”

She was hoping Su Buyu wouldn’t ask for anything.

No wishes. No sacrifices.

“I want to—”

Suddenly, the illusion they were in distorted violently, like a vortex of unnatural color pulling everyone in.

“What’s happening?” Yang Ling exclaimed.

Wei Huan immediately rushed to check on Jing Yun’s condition, only to see him already kneeling on one knee, still struggling to channel his spiritual energy. The bright yellow light radiating from him stood out sharply against the heavy black and red around them.

“Jing Yun! You’re not allowed to continue!”

Jing Yun gritted his teeth and broke free from Wei Huan’s grip. “Just a bit more!”

The illusion began to distort violently, like a kaleidoscope ripping apart and constantly shifting. The scene flickered rapidly, and in the fragments, they could faintly see Su Buyu’s figure, and intermittently hear their voices.

“What is your wish…”

“To become stronger.”

Wei Huan didn’t want Jing Yun to endanger himself again. “Stop it now! Do you hear me?!”

Even the foxfire barrier began to tremble. In the blink of an eye, a powerful yellow light exploded from Jing Yun’s body, and the vision slowly began to stabilize. Shahua sat before a mirror, gazing at her own face one last time—the face she had exchanged for her freedom. She pressed her palm over her eyes, and moments later, two round beads glowing red appeared in her hand. In the mirror, her eyes had turned completely white.

She threw the eyes onto the sacrificial altar and began writing an incantation.

Boss Jue recognized it almost immediately. “She actually used her own eyes to give Su Buyu the power of ice?!”

No wonder—no wonder she had already been blind the first time they met her.

Yan Shanyue sensed the illusion swelling uncontrollably. She struggled to stabilize the foxfire and asked Wei Huan, “Didn’t Teacher Su always have the power of ice?”

Wei Huan shook his head. “He didn’t.” He crouched beside Jing Yun, shielding him with his own demon energy.

Qing He added, “Wait, not just her eyes—she has nothing left now. Her hands, her feet, her voice—were they all sacrificed to Su Buyu?”

The illusion warped again, everything falling into darkness. In that vast blackness, they heard Su Buyu’s voice.

“You’re giving me your demon witch power—are you sure that’s okay?”

Shahua’s voice was barely audible. “Mm.”

Wei Huan finally understood. That was the source of the bian flower scent on Su Buyu. Just then, he felt Jing Yun’s body shudder. Looking down, he saw Jing Yun cough up a mouthful of blood. Wei Huan immediately severed the spiritual channel and knocked Jing Yun out. The illusion shattered instantly, all images vanishing.

Boss Jue’s sealing talisman was about to be broken by Shahua. Wei Huan now understood why she was willing to go all out—because there were too many secrets about Su Buyu buried in her memories. She would rather die than let them be known. That was why her demon witch energy was depleting so fast—she was burning it all up.

Seeing her demonic aura disintegrating, the red glow spreading across the ruins like an aurora, Wei Huan used his golden crow power to stabilize her aura, trying to keep it from dispersing further.

Boss Jue stopped him, sensing something. “You can’t save her. If a successor isn’t properly chosen, Wuqi’s barrier will collapse. We’re out of time. We have to leave first. Once she’s gone, I’ll come back and investigate all of this.”

Yang Ling and Qing He lifted Jing Yun, preparing to activate the barrier to leave. “Brother Huanhuan, hurry! Leave her!”

But Wei Huan insisted on staying—trying to hold onto the last thread of her demon soul.

Just as Qing He forcefully dragged him into the barrier, a petal of a bian flower floated over and disappeared into Wei Huan’s chest.

He felt a sudden weight in his chest, as if something had been unlocked. His mind instantly became a chaotic mess.

Shahua’s faint voice came through—only he could hear it.

“Nine Phoenix.” Her tone was filled with a powerless sigh. “Soul summoning is the most difficult sorcery among all demon witch arts. Because its sacrifice goes both ways. That is to say, both the one making the offering and the one receiving it must pay a price, must exchange the thing they treasure most.”

Wei Huan froze where he stood.

The thing most treasured…

“It’s just… the one who makes the sacrifice is still alive. They can choose. But you—can only passively give up what was most precious to you in life… even if you yourself don’t know what that is.”

He heard her laugh softly.

“You pity me. I pity you, too.”

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