Getting a Sugar Mommy in Cultivation World!! - Chapter 832 - 832: Heavenly Demon Cult

Yuan Ming took a deep breath and stepped forward, passing through the tall gates of the Heavenly Demon Cult.

The moment he crossed the threshold, the atmosphere changed completely. The oppressive aura he’d felt outside seemed to intensify, pressing down on his shoulders like an invisible weight.

Before him stretched a massive courtyard, easily large enough to fit several thousand people.

The architecture was imposing—dark stone buildings with red-tiled roofs rose on all sides, their corners adorned with demonic beast carvings that seemed to watch every movement below.

‘So this is the Heavenly Demon Cult,’ Yuan Ming thought, his eyes scanning the surroundings carefully beneath his hood.

He did not come here to play; there was a reason he dared to come to the heart of the cult, which was known to devour innocents and their offspring just to advance their cultivation.

Just to enter this place, he had killed many demonic disciples and stolen one of their identity tokens, which he had presented at the front desk.

The courtyard was already filled with people. Hundreds of aspiring disciples had gathered, clustering in small groups throughout the space.

Yuan Ming counted quickly—perhaps seven or eight hundred participants in total, all waiting for the selection process to begin.

What surprised him most was the atmosphere.

Despite being in the infamous Demonic Cult, the candidates seemed… cheerful.

Groups of young cultivators chatted animatedly, their voices creating a buzz of conversation that filled the courtyard.

Some were sharing stories about their journeys here, others were discussing cultivation techniques, and a few were even laughing together as if they were at a festival rather than a demonic sect recruitment.

“Did you hear? They say the Heavenly Demon Cult’s cultivation techniques are ten times better than any orthodox sect!”

“I heard that if you’re talented enough, you can learn forbidden techniques that can allow you to kill golden core realm cultivators!”

“My cousin joined three years ago during the last recruitment. He’s already at the peak of the Qi Condensation realm!”

“I wonder when I can get to taste the blood pill. The person I got my token from gave me one, and it allowed me to break through my bottleneck like it was never there.”

Yuan Ming listened to the excited chatter around him, his brow furrowing beneath his hood.

‘They have no idea where they are,’ he thought grimly. ‘Or perhaps they don’t care, blinded by promises of power.’

Blood Pill they were talking about was made from the sacrifice of at least ten humans. Hearing their talks sent a chill down his whole body.

He watched as a group of young men, probably around his age, bonded over their shared excitement.

One of them, a tall youth with a confident bearing, was demonstrating a sword stance to his new companions, who applauded enthusiastically.

Another cluster consisted of younger participants—some barely looked fifteen or sixteen years old.

They huddled together nervously, but even they wore hopeful expressions, as if they were about to embark on a grand adventure.

“They are just ignorant vagabond cultivators who have no affiliation. They have no talent, and this is the last place they can come to show off.’ Yuan Ming soon realized what was happening. It was not that they did not know what the demon cult was capable of. After all, the whole world knew. It was just that they did not care anymore.

Under the pretense of their happiness and chattering, he finally saw the despair and helplessness hidden deep within.

He almost forgot himself for a moment, watching the pleasant scene.

The sun was shining, people were smiling, and if he didn’t know better, this could have been the recruitment day at any orthodox sect in the empire.

But he did know better.

Shaking his head, Yuan Ming moved away from the groups of socializing participants.

He walked to the back of the courtyard where the crowd was thinner and leaned against the cold stone wall.

From here, he had a clear view of the entire courtyard while remaining relatively inconspicuous. Or at least, as inconspicuous as someone in bloodstained, dirty robes could be.

A few people glanced at him with disgust or wariness, then quickly looked away. Good. The last thing he needed was attention.

Crossing his arms, Yuan Ming settled in to wait while looking around to see if someone among the participants was worth him looking out for.

It was then his eyes landed on another young man who was leaning on the wall just like him.

The man had a handsome face unlike any other in the cult; his long pitch-black raven hair flew down on his crimson silk robes like streaks of ashes mixed in fresh blood.

The young man looked quite young, but Yuan Ming had no proper way to determine his age. He had a single sword tied to his waist but no protection equipment.

What surprised him about himself was that despite his appearance, very few people even noticed him. And even those who noticed him soon forgot about him when they looked away even for a moment.

“Is he practicing a technique to reduce his presence?” Yuan Ming thought while engraving the face of the man in his head and finally looked away. The moment he did that, the young man opened his eyes and looked back in his direction.

His pitch-black eyes appeared so deep that they could even devour the white portions of his eyes.

After a quick glance, he closed his eyes once more. The courtyard was drowned in the chattering and boastings of the young and old alike.

Everyone who was of the foundation establishment stage or below was gathered to join the cult despite their age.

Yuan Ming remained still, patient, and watching.

It wasn’t until the sun reached its zenith that new participants stopped entering and the atmosphere in the courtyard suddenly shifted.

Boom!

A heavy pressure descended upon the courtyard, and everyone felt it.

The cheerful chatter died instantly, cut off as if someone had severed it with a blade. Every participant felt it—an overwhelming presence that made breathing difficult, that made even standing upright feel like a challenge.