Thriving after the Moon Falls (I Can’t Possibly Take Pity On A Demon) - Chapter 102- Final Chapter
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- Thriving after the Moon Falls (I Can’t Possibly Take Pity On A Demon)
- Chapter 102- Final Chapter
Chapter 102
The ancient tree was a manifestation of the Huiling Heart, its roots stretching deep into the earth, gradually absorbing the knowledge of the world.
Much of its wisdom had shaped Liu shuang in later years.
They called Yan Chaosheng a traitor, accused him of slaughtering immortals, denounced him as the ruthless overlord of two realms but the first time she met him, he had stood just like this, halberd raised, shielding her from what she could not face.
Many years later, now, she could no longer recall the exact look in his eyes that day, but she remembered his arrogance, the way he had scowled and told others to get lost.
Just like this moment.
Everyone feared Feng Fuming now.
With the Evil Bone Pearl that held the fate of the Eight Wilderness in his grasp, even if he couldn’t fully absorb its power yet, his strength was beyond any opposition.
The Xuanyuan Sword gleamed in his hand, legions of immortal soldiers at his back.
Yan Chaosheng’s two demon birds circled the sky as a mated pair.
He smirked.
“Get lost with them.”
A cold order.
Qingluan couldn’t defy him.
A single tear fell from its eyes as it followed Chiyuan into the distance.
But Su Lun and the others couldn’t leave.
The ancient demon birds had survived this long by their own rules but the rest of them had no such luxury.
If Yan Chaosheng lost today, if the Demon God descended, every soul in the Eight Wilderness would become ants beneath Feng Fuming’s heel.
Feng Fuming tilted his head back and swallowed the Evil Bone Pearl.
Without the Huiling Heart, he couldn’t fully assimilate it but the Demon God’s power, even borrowed, was enough to shake heaven and earth.
Did he even need to fully absorb it? A mere creature who hadn’t even cultivated for ten thousand years—how could he hope to contend?
Yan Chaosheng swept his halberd forward.
“The Xiangliu royal line, Yan Chaosheng. Today, I reclaim my clan’s honor.”
Long ago, the Feng Clan had overthrown the Xiangliu, branding them as calamitous, tyrannical monsters.
Now, as Yan Chaosheng’s icy voice rang out, the immortals watched the silver and white figures clash in the sky with shame and dread.
They had despised demons, hunted them for millennia and never imagining the day would come when one they scorned would stand as their protector.
They prayed for his victory, though everyone knew it was impossible.
Who could defeat the Demon God? When the ancient gods fell, the immortals became mere livestock.
The Demon God bore the world’s calamities but also its supreme power.
The sky darkened as two forces collided.
The Xuanyuan Sword met the Zangtian Halberd, and the earth trembled.
Demonic patterns spread across Feng Fuming’s forehead, twisting his features.
Yan Chaosheng’s cold, scaled temples shifted fully into the silver pupils of the Xiangliu.
Beasts across the mortal realm howled as fissures split the ground.
Kongsang’s mountain barriers shattered.
Immortals fled, unable to bear the sight.
The battle raged from noon until dusk.
When Yan Chaosheng fell, he caught himself on one knee, the Zangtian Halberd propping him up.
His right arm had been severed.
The halberd trembled in his left hand as he coughed up thick, dark blood.
His armor was in ruins, his body a tapestry of wounds.
Wojiang’s heart sank.
“Let’s go,” he urged Liu shuang.
“He’s lost. If Feng Fuming realizes you’re here, it’ll be too late.”
Where the two had once been evenly matched, Yan Chaosheng could no longer hold his own against Feng Fuming, who had consumed the pearl.
If Liu shuang and Shaoyou left now, they might still have time to refine the Huiling power in the shennong’s Cauldron and prevent Feng Fuming from having the opportunity to truly become a demon god.
If the immortals endured this trial, perhaps future generations would have a chance.
Even Shaoyou knew they had reached the end.
With a nod, he signaled for Liu shuang to leave.
She followed them a few steps…then paused.
The scorched earth beneath her feet bore the scars of this battle.
If the immortal realms had suffered so, what of the mortal world?
Tender spring sprouts had been reduced to dust in the clash of powers.
Soon, Yan Chaosheng would share their fate, vanishing without a trace.
He hadn’t needed to do this.
He could have seized the spiritual veins, carved out her heart before she learned the truth, and ascended as the Demon God and transcending the laws of the Eight Wilderness.
Yet across two lifetimes, he never had…
Her steps slowed.
Stopped.
In the end, she turned back.
Yan Chaosheng seemed to sense it.
His gaze lifted.
His spiritual energy was gone, his severed arm not yet regenerated.
The Zangtian Halberd shook violently in his grip.
He had reached the end of his road.
When his gaze met Liu shuang’s, Yan Chaosheng’s eyes remained cold and devoid of any emotion, just like the day he had declared he was leaving for war, the day he had said he hadn’t returned for her.
He lived, his arms spread and his halberd raised, for his people—for the Eight Wilderness.
He only looked at her once before turning away.
Yet under her gaze, he forced himself up with one arm, the Zangtian Halberd trembling in his grip. Like the Qingwen in the past, the weapon let out a final metallic cry before disintegrating into dust in his palm.
Yan Chaosheng no longer even had a weapon.
Staggering, he turned his back to her, steadying himself with effort.
With his remaining hand, he formed a seal and tore apart the last of his own restraints.
Wojiang, who had been trying to drag Liu shuang away, froze.
“What is he doing?”
Yan Chaosheng had already died once.
Without his demon body, he had no core left and none of the innate advantages of the Xiangliu royalty remained.
His soul was nearly scattered.
What seal could he possibly still have?
But Liu shuang understood instantly.
Her lips trembled.
Above them, the thick clouds parted as if pushed aside by an invisible hand.
The wrathful thunder of the heavens gathered, its fury directed solely at Yan Chaosheng.
This was no tribulation thunder…this was the Heavenly Thunder of Annihilation, the wrath of the cosmos itself.
It shattered flesh, scattered souls, erased all merit and fortune and nothing could withstand it.
The divine lightning engulfed him, strike after strike, searing away the last traces of his soul.
The pain was unbearable, even for someone as unyielding as him.
A ragged scream tore from his throat.
Beneath his feet, the dissipating remnants of his soul bloomed into black lotuses.
Cloaked in the heavenly thunder, he mustered the last of his strength and hurled himself at Feng Fuming.
To perish together.
Feng Fuming had never imagined Yan Chaosheng could summon the Heavenly Thunder.
Enraged, he tried to flee but it was too late.
His gaze locked onto Liu shuang.
In his final moments, he thought—Yes. He knew it the day she plunged into the Weak Water. The Huiling Heart was within her. If he tore it out, he could assimilate the Demon God’s power and become the true demon god. Not even the Heavenly Thunder could touch him then.
Driven to madness by Yan Chaosheng’s assault, he abandoned all caution.
Ignoring the thunder at his back, his hand twisted into a claw, lunging for Liu shuang’s heart.
Shaoyou had long sensed the danger and likely from the moment Feng Fuming swallowed the Evil Bone Pearl.
With no time left, he and Wojiang summoned the Shennong’s Cauldron, using the spiritual energy of the Sacred Spring as its catalyst.
Before the fate of all living beings, every soul was but an ant at the mercy of the heavens.
“Liushuang!” Shaoyou called.
To gamble on survival or die for the sake of every life in the Eight Wilderness?
Liu shuang didn’t hesitate.
She leapt into the cauldron.
Feng Fuming’s twisted face reflected in her eyes.
The moment his fingers brushed her, the violet Heavenly Thunder—the wrath of the cosmos had reduced him to ash.
As the thunder faded, a single bloodied hand stretched stubbornly from the dissipating light, straining toward Liu shuang in the cauldron.
Yan Chaosheng had truly done it.
But he was already gone.
He couldn’t save her now.
He had chosen not to look at her, not to hold her, not to linger—not to love her.
Yet at the very end, having sacrificed himself to the Heavenly Thunder, his last thought was still to reach for her, to pull her out of the cauldron.
Liu shuang remembered that Lantern Festival night on the mortal rooftop, the world alive with lights and laughter.
Yan Chaosheng had said, “Chishui Liushuang…stay well. You must stay well.”
She had once believed Yan Chaosheng had ruined her life, that he was the calamity that led to the little immortal grass’s tragic death.
The burden of his birthright had bent his spine.
When Night Demon Ye (Ye Moluo) led the demons to their doom before his eyes, he had still chosen to be a worthy ruler of both realms.
Every drop of his blood had been spilled, every wisp of his soul extinguished.
And the only thing he could do for the sweet, obedient wife in his memories was stretch out a desperate hand from within the thunder’s glow…trying, hopelessly, to save her.
They said the ancient Xiangliu were heartless, that they were the hardest to move—harsh, cruel, indifferent.
They guarded a torrential spiritual vein, unmoved even by their own wives and children.
The Shennong’s Cauldron had not yet fully refined Liu shuang’s soul.
Amid the sacred flames, her clear eyes watched as Yan Chaosheng and Feng Fuming vanished together.
Around her, Shaoyou, Wojiang, and even Ji Xianghan—who had rushed over in panic and shouted over each other, scrambling to halt the cauldron’s process before it consumed her completely.
Their voices clamored in her ears.
“It hurts…” Liu shuang murmured unconsciously.
The Shennong’s Cauldron was an artifact of irreversible power, that she didn’t scream in agony was testament to her incredible fortitude.
Ji Xianghan, who had witnessed the cataclysmic heavenly thunder with her usual detached pragmatism, now found herself moved enough to assist in the rescue effort.
Even she might have hesitated before jumping into the cauldron herself.
“Can the cauldron be stopped?”
Sweat dripped from their brows as they pooled their strength, barely managing to halt the cauldron’s rotation.
“Chishui Liushuang.”
Ji Xianghan peered inside.
“Still alive?”
After Yan Chaosheng’s mad sacrifice with the heavenly thunder to destroy Feng Fuming, it would be too cruel if Liu shuang couldn’t be saved.
As the cauldron stilled, Ji Xianghan was the first to approach.
Inside, Liushuang lay curled up, her immortal robes already consumed by the refining process.
Ji Xianghan quickly removed her outer garment to cover her.
The news that Liu shuang still lived made Shaoyou and Wojiang exhale in relief.
“The Evil Bone Pearl…” But Liu shuang’s gaze wasn’t on them…it was fixed on the sky, where Feng Fuming had perished.
Though both Feng Fuming’s body and soul had been scattered by the heavenly thunder alongside Yan Chaosheng, everyone now realized with horror that the Evil Bone Pearl hadn’t been completely destroyed.
Cracked but intact, it pulsed like forbidden fruit, exuding a tantalizing aura that beckoned all beings.
A collective gasp rose from the group.
To become the Demon God was to rule heaven and earth.
The moment the fractured pearl revealed itself, Shaoyou and the others immediately sensed countless presences drawing near—immortals and demons alike who had been watching from afar, all hungering to claim it.
Perhaps only the cold-blooded Xiangliu royalty could resist such temptation.
Liu shuang sat up, pressing a hand to her chest as she forcibly extracted the half-refined Huiling power from herself.
In her palm, it coalesced into vibrant emerald feathers brimming with vitality.
“Liushuang!”
Shaoyou frowned.
The cauldron’s damage was irreversible, but if she retained the Huiling power, she could still recover as an immortal.
By removing it now, there was no going back.
Clad in Ji Xianghan’s robes, the ice-blue immortal mark between Liu shuang’s brows faded.
As more and more beings were drawn to the fractured pearl, Liu shuang withdrew the soul fragment that had nurtured the Huiling power for centuries and the only thing capable of controlling it.
“Chishui Liushuang?”
Ji Xianghan, quicker than the others to understand her intent, asked, “Are you certain?”
Liu shuang nodded, then glanced toward Kongsang with a faint smile.
What Yan Chaosheng couldn’t finish, she would complete for him.
This was her destiny and her heart’s desire.
The soul fragment shot forth like a goddess wielding a blade, carrying the Huiling power straight into the Evil Bone Pearl.
With a resounding crack, the pearl shattered.
Countless motes of spiritual energy scattered like falling stars across the land, dissolving into the earth.
The Huiling Heart was no more.
The Demon God’s power had vanished.
What remained was a brand-new Eight Wilderness.
Ji Xianghan inhaled sharply, then laughed—a genuine, heartfelt sound.
Shaoyou, who had long known the cost of this choice, couldn’t share her joy.
With sorrow, he turned back to the cauldron…now empty of the young immortal who had once inhabited it.
Inside lay only a single, tiny seed—fresh and green with nascent life.
—
Seven Hundred Years Later
Lotus blossoms carpeted the ponds in the July month of the mortal realm.
On a painted pleasure boat, a storyteller recounted the legendary battle between the last Xiangliu emperor, Yan Chaosheng, and Feng Fuming…now a popular tale of sacrifice and heroism.
The storyteller’s gavel struck wood: “And so, after the final Xiangliu emperor gave his life, the four great immortal realms ceased to be. The surviving immortals, their power waning without the spiritual veins, established sects instead and opening their gates every few years to seek mortal disciples with spiritual roots!”
An eager voice chimed in: “The Jinchan Sect is accepting applicants this very year! Any family with children of age should send them for testing and who knows, they might cultivate immortality!”
This sparked a wave of laughter and chatter: “My child refuses to go to the Jinchan Sect; they insist on joining the Cangyu Sect instead! They say the immortal lords there are the mightiest in the world, and were even old friends of the Chishui Fairy!”
The melodies of silk and bamboo instruments drifted through the air.
Amid the crowd, a slender, porcelain-white hand parted the throng to scoop up a little girl who had been weaving through the people.
Her hair had come loose from being jostled, but she remained unbothered and her small face smudged with dirt, yet perfectly well-behaved.
The man sighed, his tone gentle but chastising: “Didn’t I tell you not to wander off? Why must you always sneak off to listen to stories? The crowd is chaotic and what if you were trampled?”
Not that she could be seriously hurt, but it would still sting.
The girl was bright and lively, curious about everything—teaching her required endless patience.
“Master,” she said, “the storyteller said the emperor was so mighty! He did this and that, and then—bam! he defeated Feng Fuming just like that!”
Though the man wore a veiled hat, his presence was otherworldly.
He patted her head in response.
Lotus blossoms bloomed brilliantly around them as he smoothed her disheveled hair.
“Enough. When we return to the Cangyu Sect, have your senior sister give you a proper bath. If you pull this again, I will punish you.”
Shaoyou’s large hand held her small one as they walked along the bustling riverbank.
Around them, mothers called their children home for dinner, some still clutching laundry sticks.
Names like Zhao Chengzong, Li Zhi, Wang Weiming…even Goudan and Zhuzi floated through the air.
“Master,” she blinked up at him, “why don’t I have a name? I asked my senior sister today, and they said ‘Little Immortal Grass’ isn’t a name—it’s just what I am.”
“You can call yourself whatever you wish.”
The setting sun stretched her tiny shadow long across the ground.
By the riverbank, someone recited poetry.
Bathed in the radiant dusk, the pair walked on, her soft voice still faintly audible in the wind:
“Then… can I be called Liushuang…?”
Like the Liushuang who once stood beside the little prince of the royal line—Chaosheng.
Shaoyou chuckled.
Yes. Now that the Eight Wilderness are at peace, and you’ve returned… surely he will too.
SK
Thank you so so SO MUCHfor taking the time to translate this amazing novel! Otherwise, I don’t think I would have been able to read it… Like… never :'( You’re AN ANGEL 😀
I can’t wait for the extras!
Once again, thank you so much for this. I hope you have a wonderful day.