Thriving after the Moon Falls (I Can’t Possibly Take Pity On A Demon) - Chapter 92
Chapter 92
They spoke with certainty, and the words spread that the Lord of the Ghost Realm hated the young immortal Chishui to the core.
Even Su Lun, upon seeing the deep gloom clouding Yan Chaosheng’s brows and eyes, felt that when Chishui Liushuang was seen again, something bad would surely happen.
To be honest, Su Lun wanted to advise against it.
He had a fairly good impression of Liushuang.
The young lady might be a bit ruthless, but after all, she once shared a history with their demon lord.
Could he really be this heartless?
Fu Heng, on the other hand, fully agreed, his face wooden as he said, “She deserved to die.”
It was the seventh month, the time of the Night Parade of a Hundred Ghosts.
During the Yin hours, the Ghost Gate opened wide.
It was also after several months of battle between Kunlun and the Heavenly Clan.
Feng Fuming had pinned down the immortals of Kunlun and Kongsang with his overwhelming force, yet he had not used his full strength.
He was waiting in the shadows for Yan Chaosheng to make a move.
When he received the news, he lightly tapped his fingers and frowned.
“That’s really what they’re saying?”
“It’s absolutely true. Right now, Yan Chaosheng wishes nothing more than to cut Chishui Liushuang into a thousand pieces.”
Feng Fuming did not doubt it.
After all, if a woman dared to scheme against him like that, he would ensure she died without a burial.
Feng Fuming smiled, but a hint of cold menace surfaced between his brows.
“And yet, why do I not believe it?”
His sharp instincts told him that there might still be a turn in this matter.
The Jimo clan was easy to handle, but the remnants of the Xiangliu royal bloodline were an existence feared by all the Eight Wilderness.
“If he truly doesn’t care,” Feng Fuming smiled gently, “then today, let’s strike at Chishui Liushuang.”
He wanted to see for himself whether Yan Chaosheng would intervene.
Would he truly stand by with folded arms and remain calm? If it really came to a fight, the one to lose might not necessarily be him.
Feng Fuming lowered his gaze, the smile on his lips gentle.
In just a few short years, his cultivation had advanced at an astonishing pace.
It was all thanks to that spiritual vein, brimming with demon souls and endlessly regenerating.
That spiritual vein, meant to nourish his entire clan, had been mostly drained in secret by him using forbidden techniques.
No one would ever guess that their Heavenly Lord had been secretly cultivating the forbidden arts left behind by ancient demon gods, converting the spiritual energy of others into his own.
And yet, though the heavenly way was bright and just, it had no eyes.
That pure and powerful spiritual energy allowed him to cheat heaven and earth.
Even when he killed, he did it directly and cleanly.
As for who bore the karma, how could such sins be pinned on him?
Before Feng Fuming set out on his next expedition, the former Empress rushed out in tears and draped a cloak over his shoulders.
“Fuming, my son, do you really have to do this?” The Feng clan already held supreme power over the Eight Wilderness. Must they truly go to the bitter end with the other clans?
Feng Fuming lowered his eyes and looked at his timid mother, smiling as he brushed her hair aside.
“Mother, you followed Father for so many years, but you learned nothing from him except his cowardice.”
The old Empress bit her lip.
“And one more thing.”
Feng Fuming grasped his mother’s shoulders.
“Mother, remember, you must now call me Heavenly Lord.”
Feng Fuming left with a smile, but it never reached his eyes.
His mother truly did not understand.
He had staked half a spiritual vein on this gamble.
Who in the Eight Wilderness dared block his path?
How foolish.
Even now, his mother dreamed of a time when the Eight Wilderness could coexist peacefully.
Laughable.
From the moment the Feng ancestors began secretly slaughtering demon clans to strengthen their spiritual veins, the course had already been set for endless bloodshed with the demon clan.
From the moment the Feng clan gave birth to treasonous thoughts and caused the death of the ancient royal bloodline, they could no longer allow even a drop of royal blood to remain in the world.
He was born with the surname Feng.
These two burdens were fated to weigh upon his shoulders.
If he showed even a hint of hesitation or cowardice, once the spiritual veins ran dry, the Feng clan would become the next royal clan, torn apart and devoured alive.
Everyone had their mission. Jimo Shaoyou clung to Kunlun for the sake of righteousness.
Feng Fuming looked up at the vast heavens and closed his eyes.
They all said he was ruthless, mad with ambition, crazed.
But was he not also bearing the filthy burden of all the Feng clan’s sins, pressing forward under its weight?
Liushuang and Shaoyou had defended Kunlun for several months and were already utterly exhausted.
Shaoyou handed her a flask of spiritual spring water.
He looked at her dirty little face.
Once a pure and beautiful young immortal, she now could not even bear to waste spiritual energy on a cleansing spell.
But it was exactly this fragile person who had stood with him, resisting Feng Fuming’s iron cavalry and protecting Kunlun for so long.
“You should go,” Shaoyou said at dawn after casting a divination.
“Liushuang, since we met, you’ve helped me greatly. You’ve done enough. From here on, I can manage alone.”
“Shaoyou, you’re speaking nonsense again. Without lips, teeth grow cold. I’m not helping you, I’m thinking of Kongsang. If something happens to you, Kongsang will fall into chaos.”
Liushuang drank two sips of the spirit spring water and beamed.
“You conjured this water with your spiritual power, didn’t you?”
Shaoyou nodded silently.
“Amazing,” she praised sincerely.
“With talents like you all, no wonder they said I was useless the moment I was born.”
Shaoyou was amused by her cheerful tone.
The heaviness in his heart lessened a little.
“You’re still young but already brilliant. It won’t be long before even I am no match for you. Feng Fuming’s cultivation is no longer normal. I fear he’s gone down another path.”
“What path?” she asked.
Shaoyou frowned and shook his head.
Neither he nor his master could see it clearly.
Divination was not all-powerful; it could not foresee every detail.
But the unease in his heart today made him want to send Liushuang away again and again.
But she was no longer the weak girl of the past.
He could no longer knock her out and send her off like before.
Shaoyou’s premonition came true.
Feng Fuming’s previous attacks had all been tentative, as if testing the waters.
This time, it struck with the force of thunder.
More than half the immortal soldiers were dead or wounded.
For the first time, Shaoyou felt the difference in cultivation between himself and Feng Fuming.
At that time, he still did not understand.
How could a mere immortal body resist the power of an ancient spiritual vein—one capable of sustaining thousands of immortal clans?
Shaoyou and Liushuang were forced to retreat step by step.
That day, radiance intertwined across the skies.
Thunder and lightning roared unceasingly throughout the mortal realm.
Every household stared up at the sky, about to be torn apart, too terrified to step outside.
Meanwhile, the Xuanyuan Sword descended with the power of the heavens, aimed directly at Liushuang.
Liushuang plummeted from the sky, severely injured, coughing up blood.
Shaoyou rushed to save her but was already too late.
Shaoyou’s face turned pale.
Just then, a mass of ghost souls suddenly surged forth from nowhere, blocking the strike from Xuanyuan Sword and saving Liushuang’s life.
In the sky, a massive blood-colored demon bird spread its wings, blazing like a phoenix.
In her dazed state, Liushuang recognized it, her voice trembling with disbelief.
“Chiyuan…”
The Chiyuan demon bird was no low-level creature like the Qingluan.
It carried the true blood of the ancient beasts and had cultivated for ten thousand years.
Under its wings, a rain of fire poured down.
Storms raged as it launched itself at Feng Fuming.
Feng Fuming’s gaze turned cold.
His heart trembled…Yan Chaosheng had made his move.
Fortunately, he had been prepared! Feng Fuming was about to confront the beast when the cunning creature suddenly turned around, and without a word, used its razor-sharp claws to roughly scoop Liushuang off the ground and flee.
This shameless move stunned everyone.
For the first time, Feng Fuming was furious.
He conjured a bow, pulled it taut, and fired.
The arrow struck Chiyuan’s wing.
It let out a long, piercing cry but merely faltered for a moment before vanishing from sight.
Feng Fuming sneered coldly and did not give chase.
First, he understood that the Chiyuan demon bird moved faster than anything in this world and there was no guarantee he could catch it.
Second, they were still in the middle of battle.
Now that Chishui Liushuang had escaped, at least Jimo Shaoyou would not be able to.
He had no more patience left.
He would not walk away empty-handed today.
In the final moments of the battle, a small and delicate figure stepped forward to shield Shaoyou.
The newcomer’s face was covered in tears.
“Brother, please stop. Caiyi begs you, spare him. He will submit to you, he won’t defy you. Brother, I beg you…”
Feng Fuming raised an eyebrow.
Shaoyou calmly wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth.
“The Jimo clan would rather die than surrender.”
Feng Fuming said coldly, “You heard that, Feng Caiyi? Still not getting out of the way?”
Feng Caiyi’s face turned deathly pale.
She turned her gaze, her eyes brimming with tears, wanting to plead with Shaoyou to surrender.
But for a long time, she couldn’t utter a single word.
She looked at her cold-blooded brother, then finally, lips trembling, threw her arms around Shaoyou.
From the first moment she met him in her youth, Feng Caiyi had admired Shaoyou.
But again and again, she had given him up because of her cowardice.
If she were to abandon him again today, she would never forgive herself for the rest of her life.
If only she had half the courage of Chishui Liushuang, things wouldn’t have come to this.
“What, you want to die with him?” Feng Fuming sneered.
“If you really have the guts, I might just look at you with a shred of respect.”
Feng Caiyi was trembling terribly, yet she still refused to let go.
Shaoyou, however, silently pried her hands off.
“Go back, Princess Caiyi.”
“No,” she sobbed, clutching him even tighter.
“I’m not leaving. I have to do something for you.”
“How touching,” Feng Fuming said mockingly.
The Xuanyuan Sword pierced through Feng Caiyi’s body and then stabbed into Jimo Shaoyou’s chest.
The sky stirred with rising winds.
The blood of the immortal clans soaked the ground beneath them.
Feng Fuming gave a cold order, “Withdraw the troops.”
—
Chiyuan clutched the Lord’s “enemy” in her talons, flying unsteadily.
At last, before Mount Qingcang in the Ghost Realm, she spotted the man standing silently to one side.
Chiyuan tossed the person on the ground, then lowered his head to show his submission.
The man didn’t even glance at the woman on the ground.
Instead, he smiled with approval and stroked the bird’s head.
“Well done.”
Chiyuan chirped proudly.
Mount Qingcang was covered in snow year-round.
Today, countless demons and ghost generals had been deployed, yet he was the one who snatched the glory, capturing the woman who had so ruthlessly harmed the Ghost Lord.
The others like Fuheng were still chasing his tail.
Yan Chaosheng had just finished healing Chiyuan’s injured wings when he finally looked down at the woman on the ground.
He couldn’t remember how long it had been since he last saw her.
She lay there in a small huddle, blood seeping through her fingers, unconscious.
Her tiny frame was clad in a suit of armor—who knew where she’d gotten it but now it sat askew.
He didn’t say much.
He bent down and scooped her into his arms.
Her face was filthy.
He lowered his eyes and glanced at her.
He recalled how, long ago, when she’d accidentally cut her hand, she had pitifully wept and clung to him, crying about the pain.
Now, covered in wounds, she was tougher than ever.
Yan Chaosheng bounced this “enemy” in his arms slightly and was satisfied to hear her let out a soft groan, as if she still instinctively relied on him.
That finally made him smile.
His subordinates looked on in stunned silence.
She was half-dead already, and he was starting to torment her? But it only confirmed one thing for them that Chishui Liushuang was destined to suffer unspeakable torment from now on.
Yan Chaosheng said, “Let’s go back.”
“If Jimo Shaoyou dies at Feng Fuming’s hands, the entire Eight Wilderness will fall into chaos.”
“Feng Fuming won’t kill Jimo Shaoyou,” Yan Chaosheng replied calmly while holding her.
“He still wants the Jimo clan’s spiritual vein. Making Jimo Shaoyou a prisoner is far more useful than making him a corpse.”
Yan Chaosheng tossed Liushuang onto a bed in the Ghost Realm.
Chains, as if alive, automatically wrapped around her hands and feet.
The memories of his younger self kept roaring in his mind, but Yan Chaosheng’s calm nature kept his actions deliberate.
He was that boy from the past, yet also not.
He had always been shameless and lacking in tenderness.
What little softness he had, doled out in rare and stingy measures, had all been given to the person lying on that bed.
He even stepped out for a while, handing a sliver of spiritual essence to his loyal follower Chiyuan before returning.
He didn’t heal her wounds.
Instead, he picked up a book and sat beside her, reading quietly.
The sky in the Ghost Realm darkened early.
If not for the lingering smell of blood from her body, one could almost imagine a peaceful, timeless evening.
Fortunately, Yan Chaosheng could now keep his composure.
“A boy reborn with a heart full of hatred,” he thought.
He was doing a pretty good job playing the role.
***
Liushuang woke up in the middle of the night, her entire body wracked with pain and still reeking of blood.
She pursed her lips and tried to make out where she was, only to realize she couldn’t see her own hand in front of her face, pitch black.
What was going on? She tried to move, but something bound her tightly.
Her spiritual energy…completely gone.
Panic rose in her chest.
She began to struggle.
“Don’t bother. A Soul-Locking Contract and you won’t be able to break it.”
A voice, bitter and full of hate, came through the dark.
A lamp flared to life with that cold voice.
Liushuang turned around in a daze and saw under the soft glow of the lamp a man whose eyes brimmed with hatred and ice.
The book in his hand was crumpled in his pale-knuckled grip.
She thought she was still dreaming and murmured, “Yan Chaosheng…”
He really came back to life?
“What, disappointed I didn’t die?” the man stood up and spoke with venom-laced words like needles, stabbing her heart.
She remembered the moment of his death, her heart clenched and she said nothing.
He leaned down in front of her and grabbed her chin.
“Speak.”
Liushuang stared at the ferocious look in his eyes and gritted her teeth without uttering a word.
No matter which answer she gave, it would feel a bit insincere.
Seeing her like this, Yan Chaosheng nearly burst out laughing.
So she really did have a soft spot for that foolish young version of him and she wasn’t even angry.
Her little face even held a trace of guilt.
But he knew that compared to the him she now hated to the bone, she preferred the younger version of Yan Chaosheng—righteous and clear-cut in his love and hate, different from the dark, calculating man he had become.
She would rather face that young man’s bitter questioning than be forced to accept this twisted, demonic version of him who defied the heavens and haunted her with his regrets.
So he wouldn’t repent.
Instead, he would play the part of the young demon lord in her heart.
At least in this moment, she might still like this wretched version of him…just a little.
Yan Chaosheng couldn’t return to the past, nor was he the one she had once cared for.
That sliver of warmth he had yearned for over ten thousand years could only be stolen through despicable means.
What he knew was not how to lay his heart bare for her like his younger self.
He only knew how to fight coldly, seize, and deceive.
And yet, his cold fingers brushed across her dirty little face and roughly wiped away the mud.
She might never believe it.
But this beast loved her more than his younger self ever did.
