Hunting milfs in cultivation world
Chapter 58: Waking Up 2

Chapter 58: Waking Up 2

Meng Hao’s body remained stiff, seated on the edge of the luxurious bed as he heard it—a faint click, subtle yet distinct, echoing softly through the opulent room. His eyes immediately shifted in the direction of the sound, locking onto the massive double doors carved from jade wood at the far end of the chamber. The polished brass handles glinted in the ambient light like dragon eyes, and the heavy doors slowly creaked open.

It was the same room. The same unfamiliar place where he had awoken only moments ago, surrounded by extravagance that exceeded even the residences of Nascent Soul cultivators within his sect. Every detail here—from the silk-hung windows to the celestial pattern carved into the ceiling—reeked of high status and ancient wealth. And now, someone had entered.

He narrowed his eyes cautiously, prepared for anything.

A figure stepped through.

She was a young woman—slender and elegant, yet each step she took radiated a subtle authority that bent the atmosphere around her. Draped in a robe as black as the void between stars, the fabric clung to her graceful frame like a shadow, shimmering faintly with hidden inscriptions that glowed for a fleeting instant under certain angles of light. Only one well-versed in high-grade formation arts could recognize the protective arrays woven seamlessly into the silk—proof that this was not an ordinary garment, but one forged for those with status and power.

Her hair, dark as midnight ink, hung freely to her shoulders, each strand smooth and lustrous, swaying like liquid obsidian with her movements. The moment she entered, the air in the room changed—imbued with the delicate, intoxicating scent of rare lotus blossoms, as though the fragrance itself bowed before her.

Her skin was flawless—pale and clear, reminiscent of snow beneath the gentle radiance of moonlight. And yet it wasn’t her beauty that struck the soul—it was her eyes. Deep, calm, and unreadable, they held the poise of someone born to rule. Eyes like ancient jade, touched not by childish curiosity, but by a sovereign’s detachment. There was no warmth, no softness. Only cool awareness and supreme confidence.

Despite her apparent youth, her presence was overwhelming. Not by force or cultivation pressure, but by sheer nobility of bearing. She didn’t need to flaunt power—it existed around her like an invisible mantle. She was like a spirit born of yin essence, wrapped in a mortal body refined by heaven’s favor. Hers was not a beauty achieved through effort or cosmetics—it was innate, divine, the kind of beauty that could inspire devotion or fear with equal ease.

Meng Hao’s gaze remained on her for only a heartbeat—but that single glance was enough to warn him that this was not someone to take lightly.

Yet even that sense of awe paled compared to what followed next.

For as the girl in black stepped forward, the doors behind her parted further.

And through them entered a second figure.

The instant Meng Hao laid eyes on her, his heart nearly stopped.

That face... those eyes... that deadly grace wrapped in delicate features...

It was her.

The woman in green.

The same one who had entered his carriage without warning.

The same one who had lifted him by the throat with one hand like he weighed nothing.

The same one who, without a flicker of emotion, had nearly ended his life.

Her presence, even in this grand chamber, hit him like a wave of cold qi. His chest tightened, his breath quickened, and his instincts screamed at him to move, to defend, to run—even though his body remained frozen in place.

Why is she here? his mind howled.

Meng Hao’s fragile calm—already held together by nothing more than strained reason and a desperate instinct for survival—shattered like brittle glass under a crushing blow.

For the first time since waking in that opulent bed surrounded by silken drapes and heavenly fragrance, true danger returned to his heart.

He saw her.

And in that instant, his blood ran cold.

That face.

That figure.

Even stripped of the vibrant green robes she had worn during their first encounter, her presence was unmistakable. No disguise, no change in clothing could ever erase the image burned into his soul.

It was her.

The same woman who had entered his carriage without invitation or explanation.

The one who had smiled at him—not kindly, but with an expression colder than winter frost, as if she were amused by the thought of snuffing out his life for her own passing curiosity.

The one who had gripped his throat with terrifying ease, lifted him like a rag doll, and watched the light fade from his eyes without so much as a flicker of emotion.

His chest tightened involuntarily, a primal reaction beyond conscious control. His lungs constricted, and a subtle tremor worked its way down his spine, like a phantom memory of that moment—when death had loomed so close he could taste it on his tongue.

That memory didn’t fade with time.

It lingered.

And now, seeing her again in this place—walking calmly behind the girl in black, her head slightly lowered, her aura deliberately suppressed—shocked him more than the moment she’d first attacked.

Even now, even in her subdued presence behind the black-robed girl, her aura felt threatening—as if one wrong word could ignite the same nightmare all over again.

Why is she here?! he thought, stunned. Why is that demon woman standing behind this girl like some kind of servant?!

Just as the question formed in his mind, the black-robed girl glanced back and noticed the intensity in his gaze. Her eyes narrowed with slight displeasure.

"Scram from this room," she said coldly.

Her voice, though calm, held the edge of command—a tone that brooked no argument. She hadn’t raised her voice, yet the authority in it was enough to make Meng Hao stiffen.

The woman in green immediately paused. Her previously confident aura fractured like a sheet of glass under pressure. Her eyes dropped, and she bowed deeply—so deeply it nearly scraped the floor.

"Yes, Your Highness," the green-robed woman said quickly, her voice respectful and laced with fear.

And without hesitation, she turned and retreated from the room.

Meng Hao watched it unfold, stunned beyond words.

That woman... the same one who almost killed me without a second thought... now bowing like a servant?

His mind reeled.

Who is this girl in black?

He stared at the young woman still standing before him. Her figure was not imposing. She looked no older than he was. But that scene just now—that single command had reduced a woman capable of crushing Golden Core cultivators like ants into a subservient shadow.

She’s not ordinary, he realized, a knot tightening in his stomach. She’s a bigshot. And now... my life seems to be in her hands.

A cautious silence hung between them.

The black-robed girl slowly turned her eyes back to him. Her earlier cold expression softened slightly, replaced by a faint smile—beautiful, yet unreadable.

"You don’t have to be afraid anymore," she said gently. "That woman is gone now."

Meng Hao nodded, keeping his posture composed. Though his body had relaxed ever so slightly, his mind remained razor-sharp. He neither bowed nor spoke immediately. He knew better than to let his guard down just because of a few kind words.

After all, he had nearly died once already today.

Even if she smiled like a savior, he couldn’t afford to mistake his situation.

The girl in black noticed his guarded expression. Her delicate brows furrowed faintly.

"I already told you," she said, her voice gaining a sharper edge, "you don’t have to be wary anymore. You’re safe now. So why are you still making that face?"

Her tone was still composed, but the faint displeasure was impossible to miss.

Meng Hao cursed inwardly.

Damn it... what does this girl think she is?

His thoughts darkened, though he remained outwardly calm.

First, her subordinate almost kills me in a forest with no reason, no introduction, and no warning. Then I’m brought here like some item in a treasure box. Now she expects me to sit here smiling like nothing ever happened?

His fists clenched under the silk sheets, but his expression remained as neutral as he could manage.

No matter what I think... I can’t say anything. Not now.

He forced his thoughts aside and gave her a respectful nod, suppressing the irritation burning in his chest.

"Your Highness," he said, voice level and respectful, "I apologize. But... may I ask why I’ve been brought to this place? And what is your purpose for bringing me here?"

The black-robed girl blinked once, then let out a light laugh—short, graceful, but with a hint of pride.

"I am Mo Zhou," she said, placing a hand on her chest in a soft, elegant motion. "The young lady of the Heavenly Demon Sect."

She stepped forward slowly, each movement light as a feather, her black robes trailing behind her like wisps of smoke.

"And the reason you are here," she continued with a small smile, "is because I have decided—I want to marry you."

Her voice was serene. Unapologetic. As if she had just declared a fact, not a proposal.

For a moment, silence fell again.

Meng Hao’s brain stalled.

Marry?

His mouth parted, stunned. His brows shot up, and the look on his face said it all.

"...What?" he blurted aloud.

His voice cracked through the quiet air, unable to hide the raw shock in his tone.

Of all the things she could’ve said—punishment, recruitment, interrogation—marriage had been the very last on his list.

His thoughts spun wildly.

I nearly died. I was almost strangled to death. Now I’m lying in silk sheets being told by the young lady of a demonic sect that she wants to marry me? What the hell is going on?!

Mo Zhou only smiled calmly, as if enjoying his reaction.