Thriving after the Moon Falls (I Can’t Possibly Take Pity On A Demon) - Chapter 99
Chapter 99
After returning to the Ghost Realm, Liu shuang found herself imprisoned once more.
She had originally thought to fulfill Yan Chaosheng’s wish by marrying him, a mortal wedding, not a spiritual union.
They could have lived in the human world for a time, barely a blink in the immortal realms, before she contacted Shaoyou to extract the Huiling power from within her.
The Huiling power was sustained by her soul.
Without her soul, she wouldn’t survive.
The best outcome would be losing her immortality, becoming a mortal like Bai Zhuixu.
The worst…she might never wake again.
Still, she could have spent some time with Yan Chaosheng.
Yet he seemed to scorn this “pity offering,” locking her away instead.
Liu shuang: “…”
She truly couldn’t understand.
Hadn’t they reconciled during the Lantern Festival? How could he turn so cold so quickly?
Her heart ached for Shaoyou, captured and imprisoned, and for Kongsang’s uncertain fate but she dared not ask Yan Chaosheng.
The last thing she needed was to provoke the already temperamental Demon Lord further.
Dragging the long chain behind her, she peered out the door.
Her guards were no longer the easily fooled little ghost maids but the formidable Chiyuan.
She nearly laughed.
In some ways, Yan Chaosheng’s insight into her mind was terrifyingly sharp.
He must have sensed her restlessness, her desire to leave the Ghost Realm, and preemptively confined her.
Chiyuan thrust its head forward, shooting her a warning glare.
Liu shuang smiled.
“Don’t worry, I’m not trying to escape.”
The beast snorted through its nostrils, its demeanor unyielding.
In her past life, Liu shuang had spent nearly a century earning its wary tolerance.
Unlike the docile Qingluan raised by Yan Chaosheng since hatching, this creature was fiercely demonic…vicious, cunning, and utterly untrusting.
Defeated, Liu shuang retreated, frustration gnawing at her.
Was she truly to remain trapped here, helpless as Feng Fuming seized Kunlun’s spiritual vein?
—
Clearly, Yan Chaosheng had dismissed her words that day.
He showed no intention of reconciling or indulging in fleeting sweetness.
Liu shuang sensed something amiss.
Yan Chaosheng wouldn’t ignore her like this…unless he feared she’d interfere with his plans.
What was he planning? The only possibility that came to mind was extracting the Demon God’s power from the spiritual veins.
“Where is the Demon Lord?”
Each time she asked passing maids, she received no answer.
Her earlier lightness gradually soured into unease.
She resolved that if Yan Chaosheng didn’t appear soon, she would find a way to bid him farewell before leaving.
She couldn’t idly watch Feng Fuming gather all five spiritual veins, becoming invincible.
She had to reach Kunlun and destroy the Huiling power within herself.
If Feng Fuming came for her first, it would spell disaster for the Eight Wilderness.
Yet on the very night she made this decision, rain began to fall in the Ghost Realm—a rare occurrence, reserved for years and hours of utmost yin.
Jolted awake by the pattering, Liu shuang sat up abruptly, her chest tight with foreboding.
Something was wrong.
The wind howled with unnatural fury.
The empty palace, devoid of its usual attendants, was lit only by the dim glow of crystal lamps.
This wasn’t a yin year.
This wasn’t a yin hour.
Which meant only one thing—
A demonic entity had descended upon the world, unleashing slaughter.
Flickering shadows played across the walls.
For a fleeting moment, Liu shuang imagined the phoenix tree she’d once planted still stood in the courtyard.
She remembered another stormy night, rushing out to save the creatures in her garden, desperate to salvage the home she’d shared with Yan Chaosheng.
She lifted her skirts and hurried to the window, pushing it open.
Where the phoenix tree once stood, a figure in black robes now stood.
His clothes billowed wildly in the wind as he stood sideways to her, gazing toward the other end of the courtyard, his face turned up to the storm-wracked sky.
A profile—cold, mocking, and imperious.
The faint flicker of heavenly thunder chased him through the clouds.
From his silhouette, she caught a glimpse of something hauntingly familiar.
An absurd thought, clearer than ever before, struck her.
Liu shuang’s heartbeat quickened as she took a step back.
Why was Yan Chaosheng standing in that exact spot? Why had he imprisoned her in this palace—the same one from her past life? Was it really just coincidence?
Yan Chaosheng turned his head.
The distant coldness in his expression faded.
Unbothered by the thunder, he frowned.
“Close the window.”
Liu shuang didn’t move.
In the next instant, he was inside the room, forcibly shutting the window.
His hand covered hers, spiritual energy flowing between them and only then did she realize her fingers were stained with ghostly energy from the rain.
Yan Chaosheng seemed oblivious to her pale face as he dropped a thunderous statement: “Kunlun has agreed to hand their spiritual vein to Feng Fuming.”
“What?”
Impossible! How could it happen so quickly?
“Kunlun is pragmatic. Feng Fuming has grown bloodthirsty and even if they resisted to the death, even if they sacrificed Shaoyou, they still couldn’t protect their vein.”
He looked at her.
“So they chose to surrender it. Now, Feng Fuming holds four spiritual veins. Only Kongsang’s remains.”
“Four?”
Liu Shuang froze, then remembered—on the day of her false wedding with Shaoyou, they had redirected the spiritual vein toward Kunlun.
Three veins intertwined.
Now that Feng Fuming had seized Kunlun’s, didn’t that mean he effectively controlled four?
The mournful cries of ghost crows echoed outside.
In the heavy silence, Yan Chaosheng spoke abruptly: “Liushuang, I march to war tomorrow.”
The words were achingly familiar.
In her past life, she had hated this sentence most because it meant she might have to wait alone on Qingcang Mountain for years.
A chill shot through her, nearly stealing her breath.
She stared at the man before her.
He made no attempt to hide, even offering a faint smile.
He reached out, as if to touch her face.
Liu shuang recoiled violently.
His hand hung in the air between them before he withdrew it calmly.
This composure…it was nothing like the young Yan Chaosheng.
Her evasion darkened his gaze.
Outside, the screech of a demon bird urged him onward.
Only then did Liushuang notice that Yan Chaosheng was clad in battle armor.
Cold, heavy plates molded to his body.
Dawn was near.
His “tomorrow” was now.
Yan Chaosheng gave her one last lingering look, took up his halberd, and turned to leave.
A sudden, desperate impulse surged in her chest.
She rushed forward, grabbing the edge of his robe.
When he turned back, he found her eyes brimming with unshed tears.
“Where is he?”
He smiled—a smirk edged with something dark.
“Dead. So you finally recognize me.”
Her mind blanked.
Instinctively, she struck at his chest.
“Why is it you? Give him back to me!”
In that moment, she forgot the Soul-Locking contract around her wrist.
Her blow landed weakly, easily caught in his grip.
Calmly, cruelly, he said, “I am him.”
“No, you’re not! Give him back!”
His fingers tightened around her wrist.
Still smiling, he said, “Stop lying to yourself, Liushuang. This game isn’t fun. I didn’t come back for you.”
Her entire body turned cold and this kind of cruelty belonged only to the Yan Chaosheng she remembered, the one rotten to the core.
Tears blurred her vision as hatred and fury twisted inside her.
Yan Chaosheng lifted her chin and, ignoring her struggles and revulsion, pressed a kiss to her forehead amidst the cries of the demon birds.
“Take care of yourself,” he said.
By the time he reached the doorway, the smile had finally faded from his face.
He lowered his gaze, pressing a hand over his heart.
He had searched for her all these years, only to find her and not dare stay a moment longer.
He feared that if he looked at her too much, he would resort to any means to keep her by his side, deceiving her, greedily acting out their past for a lifetime.
Only by not looking could he force himself to let go.
The heavenly thunder was driving him, the defier of fate, away.
He had to merge the five spiritual veins as quickly as possible.
Knowing she cared about Shaoyou, he had kept her imprisoned to prevent her interference.
Tonight, he had come to say goodbye without any disguise.
That she recognized him—secretly, it made him happy.
At least, he had once occupied a place in her heart.
Even if it was too brief, too fleeting for them to ever truly be together.
“You’re not him.”
That was what she had said.
That day on the imperial city’s rooftop, amid the bustling Lantern Festival, he had finally understood.
What she wanted—wasn’t him.
Even if he deceived her for a lifetime, she would never be happy.
Even if he clung to this world by a thread, she would never love him again.
He saw everything clearly.
So why did that feeble strike to his chest still leave him in agony, his breath seizing?
Yan Chaosheng closed his eyes and stepped into the torrential rain. Qingluan and Chiyuan followed behind him.
Fu Heng clasped his fists.
“Everything is ready. We await your command, Demon Lord.”
“Move out.”
Setting off under a downpour saturated with ghostly energy, by dawn, the ghost generals’ spiritual energy would be greatly enhanced.
Standing in the heavy rain, Yan Chaosheng glanced back one last time, hoping for a final glimpse of her but the door had already closed.
He could no longer see Liu shuang.
He withdrew his gaze, remembering how, long ago, every time he went to war, he wore armor sewn by her.
She would always stand there, waiting for his return.
No one would wait for him anymore.
He had known this long ago—the heavenly thunder had taken not just her immortal grass body, but all the ties between them.
His only regret was that they had not met sooner, in simpler times.
The army vanished into the Ghost Realm.
—
Liu shuang returned to the room.
When the rain stopped, she washed her face, her eyes icy.
With a flick of her wrist, the chains shattered into dust.
Truthfully, ever since surviving the tribulation, she had possessed the power to leave.
Yan Chaosheng had underestimated her, placing too much faith in the Soul-Locking contract.
And she…she had stayed, wanting to atone for her mistakes.
But now that Yan Chaosheng had dropped all pretenses, there was no reason to remain.
Kunlun’s surrender had come shockingly fast.
She couldn’t help but suspect Yan Chaosheng had played a role in forcing their hand.
She couldn’t fathom his motives.
Forcing herself not to dwell on the young demon lord, she thought of all the words she had meant to say to him—words he would never hear now.
A pang of sorrow twisted inside her.
She flew out of the palace.
The Ghost Realm was now left with only the weak and infirm—no one could stop her, or even notice her departure.
After flying for some time, she spotted a young maid heading toward her courtyard.
The ghost maid drifted along, cradling a pot of flowers in her arms.
The blossoms were vibrant, painted in the hues of early spring—colors that should never exist in the Ghost Realm.
Liu shuang hesitated, then halted in her tracks.
When she looked closer, her breath caught.
That familiar face—it was unmistakably Changhuan.
A still-youthful Changhuan, newly become a ghost servant, not yet worn down by cruelty.
The shadows clinging to her were faint, her expression almost innocent.
The little ghost, her face pale, muttered to herself as she clutched the flowerpot, “Who even lives in that palace? Flowers haven’t bloomed here in ten thousand years, and now I’m told to tend them. They say the Demon lord hates her but is this how hatred looks?”
Liu shuang watched Changhuan disappear into the distance.
Yan Chaosheng…
The man she had once loved, hated, despaired over, and resolved to forget—who claimed he hadn’t returned for her and had, in the end, still given Changhuan back to her.
