Hunting milfs in cultivation world
Chapter 60: Awakening 1

Chapter 60: Awakening 1

Inside the dim, luxurious chamber, Meng Hao sat upright on the lavish bed, his eyes momentarily shut as his thoughts stirred restlessly beneath his calm exterior. The curtains swayed gently with the soft breeze, and the faint scent of incense infused the room with a strange tranquility, as if mocking the chaos within his mind.

"System," he called silently, his tone sharp and direct. "Show me Mo Zhou’s favorability status."

A familiar ding echoed in his consciousness, sharp and clear like a chime struck in an empty hall.

[Ding! Favorability interface loading...]

Name: Mo Zhou

Age: 698

Cultivation Level: Divine Transformation Realm – Early Stage

Favorability towards Host: ★★★★☆ (4 Stars)

Thoughts:She fell in love with you at first sight upon seeing your face. After that, she decided to personally retrieve you and bring you back to her sect. Mo Zhou is known throughout the demonic path for her infamy—she frequently selects male cultivators she takes a liking to, engages in dual cultivation with them, and then kills them once they’ve outlived their usefulness. However, upon seeing you, something in her changed. She desires to keep you by her side for the rest of her life. Her obsession with you is only growing.

Meng Hao’s eyes widened slightly.

A chill—cold and bone-deep—crawled down his spine.

So that’s it... he thought, his heart beating slowly like the toll of a funeral bell.

This girl in front of me... she’s not just a pretty face. She’s nearly 700 years old. A demon in disguise.

He remained motionless, yet inwardly, his soul shivered.

Divine Transformation realm... and only the young lady of the sect? His brows twitched ever so subtly. Then what about her mother—the matriarch of the Heavenly Demon Sect? Fusion realm? Void realm? Or... higher?

His thoughts spiraled dangerously.

And she’s notorious for killing the very men she sleeps with. How many have died on her bed? How many corpses buried behind her smile?

He inhaled deeply, keeping his emotions under tight control.

So this time... it was my face that spared me. That ridiculous charm stat actually saved me from becoming another corpse beneath her silk sheets. But who knows how long this favorability will last? Four stars... it gives me some breathing room, but it’s not a guarantee.

He clenched his fists under the covers.

If I say something wrong—if I displease her—she might snap again. I’ve seen how cold she can become. That puppet almost strangled the life out of me for nothing.

Still, amidst the fear, another thought flickered to life. An old fire began to spark in his veins again—the ambition that had once driven him through life and death in both his worlds.

But... if this girl is this powerful, then what about the rest of the sect?

He looked toward the ornate carvings above the bed, the ancient array patterns subtly glowing with protective light.

This is the Heavenly Demon Sect. A place where cultivation, charm, and obsession mix. How many powerful female cultivators must be here? Hundreds? Thousands?

He grinned inwardly, a plan beginning to form.

If I can use this situation—if I can truly make Mo Zhou fall completely, if I can survive here without being killed—then this might become my greatest opportunity yet.

A slow, dangerous glint returned to his eyes.

All I have to do... is endure.

He exhaled softly and opened his eyes, then turned to Mo Zhou, who had been silently watching him with a half-lidded, amused gaze.

He smiled at her, this time not forced, but controlled.

"So that’s what it was, huh?" he said smoothly. "No wonder your puppet tried to kill me. She was simply following orders."

He gave a light chuckle. "Otherwise, how could a beautiful lady who’s fallen in love with me want to strangle me the moment we meet?"

Mo Zhou laughed.

Her laughter was like chimes struck by a wicked wind—soft, cold, and somehow captivating.

"Haha... you don’t need to worry about her anymore," Mo Zhou said lazily, as she casually brushed a strand of hair behind her ear. Her expression was calm, almost playful, her red lips curled into a faint smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Once my mother comes out of seclusion, I’ll ask her to dispose of that puppet and give me a new one—maybe one at the Void Realm this time."

She said it so lightly.

So casually.

As though she were talking about changing clothes, or replacing a cracked ornament in her palace—not requesting a battle puppet strong enough to raze entire sects.

Meng Hao’s smile remained fixed on his lips, but a storm of disbelief exploded in his mind.

Void Realm?!

Are you kidding me? Does this girl think Void Realm puppets are dogs that roam the streets waiting to be adopted?!

That kind of terrifying existence stands at the peak of cultivation! Void Realm is a realm where a single flick of the hand can collapse mountains, where a casual wave of spiritual energy can turn cities into ash—and you want your mommy to hand you one like it’s a candy stick?!

He wanted to scream.

He wanted to grab her by the shoulders and shout, "Do you even know what you’re saying?!"

But of course, none of this reached the surface.

Meng Hao, ever the actor, merely adjusted his posture, as though respectfully shifting in place, and smiled in return. His eyes gleamed with mock admiration, and his tone was measured, deferential.

"Your Highness truly lives up to the grandeur of the Heavenly Demon Sect," he said smoothly. "I’m sure even Void Realm puppets will gladly kneel and obey your every command."

It was flattery at its most refined—layered with subtle sarcasm that only he understood, coated in sincerity that even a Nascent Soul would find hard to detect.

Mo Zhou gave a small nod, pleased by his answer. Her eyes gleamed slightly with satisfaction as she turned away, her black robes swaying like shadows dancing under moonlight.

But Meng Hao’s thoughts remained turbulent beneath the calm surface.

Just how deep does this sect’s background go? he wondered. Even a Divine Transformation puppet was only a "gift" from her mother... and now she speaks of Void Realm tools like they’re within reach.

His expression remained unreadable.

It’s not just Mo Zhou I need to be wary of... it’s her mother.

If this girl is only a young lady of the sect and already this strong and this spoiled, what kind of existence is the matriarch?

He shuddered inwardly.

I’ve been pulled into the lair of a dragon... and I’m expected to smile like a pet bird.

His tone was smooth as silk, yet there was a slight bitterness hidden beneath the flattery.

Mo Zhou seemed pleased with his response. She stretched gracefully, her black robes sliding off her shoulders slightly, revealing the curve of a snow-white collarbone before she turned toward the door.

"Alright," she said casually. "You should rest. We’ll talk again tomorrow."

With that, she turned and exited the room, her footsteps making no sound at all.

The moment the door shut behind her, silence fell once again.

Meng Hao finally allowed himself to exhale fully. He slumped against the headboard, sweat trickling down the side of his face.

So she’s gone... for now.

He stared up at the ceiling, thoughts racing.

I need time. I need to understand this place. Her power. Her sect. And most importantly... how to stay alive in the belly of the beast.

Meanwhile...

Deep within the forest, far from the demonic sect and its towering halls, amidst twisted trees and scattered birdsong, a young girl stirred from unconsciousness.

Her long, inky black hair was matted with blood. Her robes—once pristine—were torn and covered in dirt and ash. A faint groan escaped her lips as her eyelashes fluttered open.

Li Yao slowly opened her eyes.

The scent of smoke and scorched wood reached her nostrils, and pain surged through her head like a wave. Blood trickled down her forehead, drying at her temple. She gritted her teeth and pressed her hand to her skull, staggering upright despite the waves of agony wracking her body.

Through blurred vision, she looked around—and then her heart clenched.

The carriage.

The one she had shared with Meng Hao.

It was ruined.

Shattered wheels, broken boards, scorched wood—everything lay scattered like remnants of a battlefield. Her breath caught, and she ignored the pain in her limbs as she rushed forward, crawling over the debris, moving pieces one by one in a frantic search.

"Meng Hao... Meng Hao!" she cried.

Her voice echoed through the trees, but there was no response. No sign of him. Not even his scent lingered.

Desperation clawed at her heart.

After minutes of tearing through the ruins, her trembling body collapsed beside the wreckage.

Her knees struck the damp ground, and her shoulders began to shake.

Tears streamed silently down her blood-streaked cheeks.

"I lost him..." she whispered, her voice cracking with grief. "I... I lost him..."

Her hands clenched around a broken piece of the carriage. Her fingers tightened until blood dripped from her palms.

But as her tears fell, a fire began to burn behind her eyes.

It wasn’t just grief.

It was rage.

It was obsession.

She stood up slowly, her knees wobbling but her resolve firm.

"I don’t care who you are..." she muttered, her voice low and deadly. "Demon, beast, cultivator or god... if you took him from me..."

She gritted her teeth.

"I will find you."

Her gaze rose to the horizon, where the clouds hung low and the wind carried whispers of fate.

"I will take back what is mine."