Getting a Sugar Mommy in Cultivation World!!

The candles in Wen Ji's chambers had long since burned out.

The room was shrouded in darkness, the door to her room was locked from the inside, the windows were closed shut, and the curtains had been draped over them.

Even the servants that were supposed to tend her were sent away, even outside the gates; not a single soul could be seen.

Concubine Wen Ji, on the other hand, was sitting in a conspicuous corner of the room. She sat in silence, still as stone.

Her knees were drawn up onto the velvet seat beneath her.

Everything about her seemed different; she was wearing makeup, but it was darker in shade, and her clothes were thin and black. Her usual tied-up hair was let loose on her shoulders as she sat there staring at a copper mirror covered in a blue gauze piece of cloth.

Leaning forward, she pulled at the fabric and threw it on the side. She turned back at the blurry mirror and looked into it intently.

Her reflection stared back at her—but it was not her face. Not entirely.

Her features were the same, yet distorted. Her eyes lacked warmth, and there was a fog covering her body. It was not clear if the fog was the impurities of the copper or stains or if it was a magical trick of the mirror.

Wen Ji leaned forward, her own expression as cold and unreadable as the cursed reflection.

"Since the gentle approach is no longer working…" she whispered. "It's time to handle things differently."

And the mirror pulsed once, like it had heard her.

Wen Ji glanced at the table to which the mirror was attached. In front of her, several things were neatly arranged on the big mirror.

With a final glance, she pulled out a cauldron from her storage ring and placed it in the middle of the table, allowing the materials already placed on it to surround it in the shape of a circle.

Wen Ji's hands moved in slow, precise arcs as she began her dark preparation.

Her voice, low and measured, stirred the stale air like a blade through silk.

"Ashleaf of the Withering Tree… torn by moonless wind."

She opened a small, brittle pouch and drew out the dried, crimson leaves, crumbling them between her palms. The flakes fell like rust into the mouth of the waiting cauldron.

"The eye of the Sightless Lamb… jealous of beautiful dreams."

She lifted the preserved eyeball placed inside a glass jar and opened the wooden lid. The first thing to escape the bottle were wisps of white smoke.

Without any delays, Wen Ji started muttering chants in a deep, reverent tone.

"Oh proud Son of Light… The vanquisher of darkness and the collector of dreams."

The eye dropped in with a quiet splash, and the cauldron let out a shuddering sigh.

"Bone fragments of the void Qilin."

She snapped the tiny rib bone between her fingers—once, twice, thrice—and each time, she whispered.

"By your will the world forms, and by your will it shatters…"

She sprinkles tiny fragments of the bones in the dark cauldron while storing the rest away. As each fragment landed in the vessel, the mixture began to stir on its own, thick bubbles rising from within.

"Blood offerings… from the caster."

Uncorking the flask, she paused. The metallic scent of the blood filled the air, giving off an unpleasant scent. Wen Ji showed no reaction at the sight of the blood. She had prepared many such bottles and stored them in her ring, as they would be spoiled with time in there.

With the ease she performed this ritual, it was clear this was not the first time she was doing it, and she was already a master in this work.

"To your unholy self, I present this offering… Allow this poor soul of mine to ascend the mortal world and trespass into the beyond."

Holding her breath, she allowed her blood to drop from the vial, drop after drop.

The cauldron groaned, and a pillar of deep blue flames surged from within. Wen Ji backed away a little, but she stared at the flames without blinking. There was fear in her eyes, but there was also a deep sense of worship and devotion.

In her startled moments, she had dropped the vial on the table, causing the last remaining drops of her blood to spill on the surface and pool around.

Soon the flames disappeared without causing any real harm.

Watching the white pillar of smoke come swirling out of the cauldron, Wen Ji's tensed body relaxed.

Her eyes fluttered half-shut. She leaned forward, her face close to the rim.

Sniff!!!

She inhaled deeply, and white-colored powder surged out of the pot and went straight into her nose, moving like a ghost trying to take over her body.

The effect of whatever she did and all she inhaled was immediate.

Her back arched, her body convulsed, and a sharp gasp escaped her lips.

Her eyes rolled back for a brief, terrifying moment as the power surged through her veins.

Despite the faint spasms, she managed to move, dip her two fingers into her thick, wet blood that had spilled, and approach the mirror.

She drew the first sigil.

"One for passage,"

"One for silence,"

"One for memory,"

"One for truth…"

Each line burned faintly into the mirror, glowing brighter with every stroke. The sigils pulsed with a rhythm all their own.

"Zhal'thera ven kuur."

The last words that came out of her mouth were spoken in an unrecognizable language, but as she uttered them, the mirror answered.

A faint streak of energy shot out of it and merged into Wen Ji's body.

The sigils flared, and her breath stilled.

Her eyes rolled backwards, fully this time, and her body started glowing with faint blue. The color intensified as her soul detached from her flesh and began to drift upward from her body like smoke pulled toward flame.

Wen Ji did not resist.

She let herself be drawn in…

Her ghastly form moved towards the bloody copper mirror and passed through it like a hand in the water, sending ripples all around its surface.

And she was gone!

Leaving behind a limp body still sitting in the same spot.