Getting a Sugar Mommy in Cultivation World!!

‘This is the Demonic Cult,’ Yuan Ming thought, the words repeating in his mind like a mantra. ‘This is what they truly are.’

He felt his hands trembling. He clenched them into fists, forcing himself to remain still, to keep his breathing steady, and to maintain his disguise.

The cheerful young men who’d been demonstrating sword stances were now pale and shaking.

The hopeful teenagers huddled together, some openly weeping. The confident youth who’d been so excited was on his knees, vomiting.

The central elder opened his eyes, looking refreshed. He surveyed the remaining candidates with those hollow, terrible eyes.

“Don’t be so surprised. This is the demonic cult. We don’t need dregs who, despite spending their entire lives, could not even reach the foundation realm.”

“They will only leech on the name of the demonic cult.”

He gestured casually at the scattered possessions on the ground. “Junior disciples, collect those items. They will be redistributed to those more worthy.”

Several cultivators in white robes with black strips emerged from the sides of the courtyard, efficiently gathering the belongings of the dead.

The female elder stepped forward, her voice carrying clearly despite its softness. “Do not think us cruel. In the cultivation world, the weak are simply food for the strong. We have merely demonstrated this truth in its purest form.”

The ancient elder spoke for the first time, his voice like grinding stones. “Those who cannot accept this reality should leave now. We will not stop you.”

No one moved.

Whether from fear or determination, every remaining participant stayed rooted in place.

Yuan Ming understood why. To leave now would be to admit weakness, to mark oneself as someone who failed the Demonic Cult’s test.

In the Feng Empire, such a mark would follow you forever. Better to die trying than to live as a known coward.

And besides—where could they run? The elders stood between them and the exit. Anyone who tried to flee would likely meet the same fate as those who’d been consumed.

The central elder smiled again. “Good. You have all passed the first test—the test of will. Those with weak hearts have been removed. Those who remain have proven they can witness death without fleeing.”

Everyone knew his words were hollow, and they meant nothing. This was the true meaning of being someone from the demonic cult.

You cannot even trust your own shadow here.

Everyone knew the test had not even begun yet; they were just enjoying a nice meal while speaking grand words to make themselves look proud and grand when, in truth, they were nothing but lowlifes who fed on the weak to survive.

The female elder suddenly moved forward, exposing her pale thighs as she moved with purpose. She exuded a charm that many could not resist.

Even the elders beside her gulped faintly what could mere disciples do?

“Now then,” With a faint devilish smile, she raised her hand and said, “Let the true trials begin.”

Yuan Ming pressed himself harder against the wall, sweat dripping down his back.

“Fortunately, I only concealed my cultivation technique to the first level of the foundation establishment realm. I wanted to hide my strength further, but fortunately I changed my mind at the last moment.’

Had he made his cultivation appear any lower, he would have been made to step forward and appear in the eyes of the elders.

The ones who were killed were old and middle-aged people, but he would not want to take a chance with his life like that.

Thinking about the concealment technique he had obtained from his teacher, Yuan Ming could not help but feel gratitude.

He could feel his cultivation trying to react to the pressure, but the technique held firm, masking his true strength.

The rusty sword on his back felt heavier than ever as it helped him further hide his cultivation.

Without those two things, he would have long been exposed as a cultivator of the golden core realm.

He’d known the Demonic Cult was ruthless. He’d heard the stories, read the reports, listened to the warnings.

But knowing and witnessing were two entirely different things. They would have definitely realized he was there with ulterior motives, and who knows what they would have done to him then?

An army that would step over mountains of corpses without hesitation.

An army that had already learned that human life meant nothing.

An army that would consume the weak to strengthen the strong.

Around him, the surviving candidates stood in terrified silence, finally understanding—truly understanding—where they were.

The pleasant atmosphere was gone, burned away like morning mist under the harsh light of truth.

This was the Heavenly Demon Cult.

And the selection had only just begun.

The female elder’s smile widened as she surveyed the terrified crowd. “The first trial is simple. You will pass through the Demonic Cave of Despair.”

She gestured lazily toward the side of the courtyard, where a massive stone entrance had appeared, or perhaps it had always been there, and Yuan Ming simply hadn’t noticed it before.

The opening yawned like the mouth of some ancient beast, darkness spilling out from within.

Even from this distance, Yuan Ming could feel something wrong emanating from it. The air near the entrance seemed colder, heavier, and tainted with an oppressive energy that made his skin crawl.

“Before you enter,” the ancient elder rasped, shuffling forward, “you will be prepared.”

He raised one withered hand, and suddenly Yuan Ming felt it, a dense fog suddenly covering his dantian. It seemed to be the work of an array formation that faintly flashed on the ground.

And the result? His cultivation base seized up.

Or so it appeared.

If he wanted, Yuan Ming could unleash his qi, but that would expose his real cultivation base, so he decided not to do that.

Around him, others cried out in alarm as their own cultivation was similarly restricted.

“In the Demonic Cave of Despair,” the central elder explained calmly, “cultivation means nothing. Only your body, your will, and your instinct to survive matter.”

Junior disciples emerged once more from the sides, but this time they carried something different. Heavy iron weights, rusted and ancient-looking, connected by thick chains.

Yuan Ming’s eyes narrowed as he watched them approach.