Pregnant Cultivator, Doted by Big Boss

After leaving the elixir pill shop in the city, the two of them flew out of the gates. One after the other, they arrived at a forest on the outskirts.

There, in the forest, the figures of Celeste Grant and Jocelyn Grant materialized. The very instant they appeared, they exchanged a palm strike in mid-air. The two forces collided, erupting outward from the epicenter of their clash. Under the shockwave of such powerful cultivation, the surrounding forest was instantly annihilated.

Even the ground shook and collapsed.

Celeste Grant was now at the Perfect Nascent Soul Stage, and Jocelyn Grant was completely unable to withstand her palm strike. She was sent flying backward, coughing up a mouthful of blood in mid-air before landing on the ground and stumbling to a halt.

Seeing this, Celeste Grant felt a pang of regret.

’Damn it...’

’I didn’t think she’d be so fragile.’

’This is Yana’s Mother’s body. What if I damage it? Why can’t I ever seem to hold back?’

Jocelyn Grant steadied herself and wiped the corner of her mouth. She glared fiercely in Celeste Grant’s direction. "Who the hell are you? We have no quarrel. Why are you targeting me like this?"

Hearing this, Celeste Grant laughed and murmured, "Tsk tsk... Who said we have no quarrel?"

At that, her tone shifted as she reverted to her own voice. Waving a hand in greeting, she said, "Long time no see, Jocelyn Grant. You’ve really taken shamelessness to a new level."

Upon hearing that voice, the veiled Jocelyn Grant’s eyes widened in shock, and she subconsciously took a step back. She recognized it the instant she spoke. It was Celeste Grant.

’No wonder she targeted me from the start. It was Celeste Grant. That damned Celeste Grant. Why is she like a lingering ghost? I run into her everywhere!’

"Celeste Grant! It’s you!"

Her voice cracked as she yelled.

It was clear she was on the verge of a breakdown, likely not expecting to encounter the one person she never wanted to see again so soon.

Jocelyn Grant glared at her furiously. "You should be hiding in your den in The Demonic Sects. How dare you come to the Immortal Sects’ territory? Aren’t you afraid you won’t make it back alive?"

"Haha!"

Celeste Grant reacted as if she’d heard the funniest joke, taunting her in reply. "Not make it back alive? Are you kidding me? Let’s not even mention that the strongest cultivator in the Eosian region is my own son’s father. Just look at me. Do I look weak to you? Like someone you can just snuff out at will?"

"You, on the other hand..."

She said with a faint smile, "I’ve done a little divination, and it tells me you’re going to fall into my hands today."

She casually took off the ghastly mask, stowing it away to reveal her face—Celeste Grant’s face.

The sight of Celeste Grant’s face made Jocelyn Grant recall the agony of detonating her own Nascent Soul. That, and everything else she had suffered in the past, made her hands tremble with rage.

"Celeste Grant, you’re a persistent phantom! Why don’t you just go and die!"

"Ooh, struck a nerve, did I? But now you’ve fallen into my hands again. So, Jocelyn Grant, how does it feel?"

"Impossible."

She gritted her teeth, trying to reassure herself.

’I can’t possibly fall into her hands every single time.’

Jocelyn Grant was fearful at first, but then she remembered she was also a Nascent Soul Stage cultivator. Even if Celeste Grant’s cultivation was a bit higher than hers...

If she really fought for her life, she might not fall into her hands, even if it ended in mutual destruction. And even if she couldn’t defeat Celeste Grant, she was confident she could still escape.

She was still somewhat confident on that point.

Thinking this, Jocelyn Grant calmed down. She looked at Celeste Grant and said, "You think you can keep me here by yourself? Your cultivation might be a bit higher than mine, but so what? If we really fight, you’re not guaranteed to win. At worst, we’ll both be seriously injured, but I won’t let you get off easy."

Celeste Grant: "..."

’Is this the typical threat from a story’s protagonist?’ Celeste Grant thought. ’Who gave her the confidence to think she could beat me? Still, I have to admire her self-assurance.’

’Though I do think she’s more than a little unhinged. But then again, this story was never a particularly moral one, so it’s normal for her to lack a proper compass.’

’But right now, getting Yana’s Mother’s body back is more important.’

"You’ve misunderstood something," Celeste said. "Who said I was going to draw this fight out with you?"

’That was never my goal. My goal is Yana’s Mother’s body.’

With that thought, she raised her hand and gave a signal. In the next instant, countless black-clad figures appeared from all directions.

As soon as they materialized, they placed a hand over their chests and bowed to Celeste Grant in a formal salute.

"Your humble servants greet you, Madam."

These were the disciples of the Bloodfiend Den, summoned by the sound of her Bone Whistle. Clad in black cloaks, their very presence made the air feel heavy and oppressive.

The Bone Whistle Celeste Grant had blown was of the highest level, so every disciple of the Bloodfiend Den in the vicinity had rushed over at once. At a glance, they formed a vast, dark sea of people.

"Disciples below the Foundation Establishment Stage, leave at once. Those at the Golden Core Stage and above, remain."

"Yes, Madam!"

Hearing the command, the assembled Demon Cultivators from the Bloodfiend Den didn’t ask why; they simply obeyed.

After Celeste Grant spoke, most of the Bloodfiend Den disciples flew off, leaving behind only the top-tier experts. A quick glance told Celeste there were still over a dozen Golden Core Stage cultivators, as well as five or six cultivators at the Mid- to Late-stage Nascent Soul realm.

As Jocelyn Grant watched these people appear, her pupils constricted and her face paled. All her earlier confidence had vanished. She glanced around warily, her gaze finally settling on Celeste Grant, filled with fury.

"Celeste Grant, you called for backup!"

Celeste Grant glanced at her. "I don’t like the sound of that. What do you mean, ’backup’? Are they not my people? You’re free to call for backup too, I’m not stopping you. Oh, that’s right. I forgot. You don’t seem to have any. All those beloved ’brothers’ of yours—Brother Hawthorne, Brother Young, Brother Milo—they all seem to be dead."

Jocelyn Grant snapped, "Shut your mouth! You don’t have the right to speak their names."

The moment she spoke, the surrounding Demon Cultivators glared daggers at her.

"You’ve got some nerve, talking to our Madam like that."

"Yeah, that’s right! For such disrespect, I say we just break her legs."

"What are you looking at? Yeah, I’m talking to you! How dare you stare at our Madam like that? We’ll gouge your eyes out."

"KYEHEHEH... The last person who dared to be rude to our Madam had his legs broken and his cultivation crippled by yours truly. He’s still a useless invalid lying in bed. I bet she wants to see what it’s like to be unable to care for herself, too."

Jocelyn Grant thought these Demon Cultivators were utterly cruel. They threatened to cripple people’s cultivation and break their legs at the drop of a hat. What’s worse, these monsters were completely obedient to that bitch, Celeste Grant. It was detestable.

Celeste Grant raised a hand, signaling them to be quiet, then turned her gaze to Jocelyn Grant.

"So, Jocelyn Grant, is this body treating you well?"

Hearing this, Jocelyn Grant looked at her with a wary expression.

"What do you mean?"