Pregnant Cultivator, Doted by Big Boss

Celeste Grant stood up at the sight.

Her gaze was fixed on the spot where the streak of light had landed.

She thought she had sensed a powerful force, but it vanished in an instant, as if it had never been there.

Just then, Javier Sinclair, who was sitting across from her, retracted his gaze and said, "Someone from the Immortal Domain has descended to the Lower Realm. It’s just a Primordial Spirit clone, though."

Celeste Grant was surprised. "Aren’t Cultivators from the Upper Realm forbidden from coming to the Lower Realm? Anyone not from this world is supposed to be expelled by the Heavenly Dao. Even the Heavenly Dao of Valerium won’t allow Cultivators to descend."

At this, she looked toward Javier Sinclair.

’I almost forgot about him,’ she thought. ’Javier Sinclair also came from the Upper Realm, suppressing his realm.’ Thinking of this, she said aloud, "And what about you? You waltzed right in here from the... what’s it called... the Demonic Domain. It doesn’t have any negative effects on you, does it?"

Javier Sinclair leaned forward slightly, his eyes on her as he spoke. "Is Celeste worried about me? Don’t be. It has no effect on me. With my level of Cultivation, I can go wherever I please. I just have to suppress my Cultivation to the maximum limit this world can withstand."

"As long as it doesn’t affect you." She raised her eyes to the horizon and couldn’t help but mutter, "Still, who could it be that descended? They’re not coming for me, are they?"

The moment the words left her mouth, she realized how likely it was.

Sometimes, a person’s intuition is just scarily accurate.

The book’s heroine, Jocelyn Grant, was dead. All of her men were dead, too.

Logically speaking, she shouldn’t have any enemies in the Cultivation World right now. But she hadn’t forgotten about Jocelyn Grant’s mother, who had yet to make an appearance.

If she was going to show up, now would be the time.

And just as she was thinking about it...

...the very next moment.

A voice boomed out of thin air.

"Celeste Grant, give me back my daughter’s life!"

Wha—

Celeste Grant was stunned to hear the voice appear out of nowhere.

She slapped herself lightly on the mouth.

’My big mouth... I really just jinxed myself.’

Who else could it be, demanding her life, but Jocelyn Grant’s mother?

’My predictions are never usually this spot-on.’

’Speak of the devil...’

She had just been thinking about Jocelyn Grant’s mother, and the woman had shown up the very next second.

The moment the voice appeared, an endless, oppressive aura swept over the entire domain of the Demonic Sects. Wherever the pressure passed, starting with the Bloodfiend Den, the legs of every Cultivator in the Demonic Sects gave out, forcing them to their knees. Some even clutched their chests and vomited blood.

The power was immense, the pressure terrifying. This was the might of the Transcendance Tribulation Stage. And to think this was just a clone that had descended to the Lower Realm... For a mere clone to be this powerful was astounding.

That overwhelming force bore down on her, as if to crush her like an insignificant ant.

She was once again reminded of the cruel law of the jungle that governed the Cultivation World.

’I haven’t even seen her, but with this much power, she’s certainly earned the right to be arrogant.’

So, the golden streak of light that had fallen from the sky into the Frostfell earlier had been Jocelyn Grant’s mother descending.

This place was a long way from the Frostfell. The fact that she could cross that distance in a single thought proved how strong she was.

Just as the oppressive force was about to crush Celeste Grant, Javier Sinclair, still seated at the stone table, raised his hand.

"Get out here."

"What is this filth?"

Javier Sinclair looked up slightly. With a casual wave of his hand, the terrifying pressure instantly vanished. At the same time, a figure was wrenched from the void by an invisible, immense force and slammed violently into the ground.

With a loud BOOM, a figure appeared, half-buried in the earth. The impact was so great it kicked up a cloud of dust.

Celeste Grant blurted out instinctively.

"Good heavens!"

The dialectal exclamation slipped out before she could stop it. She immediately clamped her mouth shut and stared intently at the figure.

This landing... pose, and the whole scene, felt strangely familiar. Almost nostalgic.

The last person to be "planted" in the ground like this was Jocelyn Grant. She never thought she’d see the tables turn like this, with Jocelyn Grant’s mother getting the same treatment.

Getting a clear look at the woman planted in the dirt, Celeste Grant couldn’t help but size her up.

’So this is Jocelyn Grant’s mother, even if it’s only a clone. Her face is certainly beautiful, and she looks at least seventy percent like Jocelyn.’

The woman, who had been half-buried in the dirt, instantly freed herself. With a wave of her hand, she stood a short distance away, completely spotless.

She was Eve Warren, Jocelyn Grant’s mother from the Upper Realm.

Eve Warren held her head high, the very picture of a young lady from a Cultivator Noble House. She looked as if other people were only worthy of gazing at the tips of her shoes.

She didn’t make any rash moves, instead turning her gaze to Javier Sinclair. When she saw his face, even Eve Warren was momentarily stunned. ’I never expected to find such a handsome man in this backwater Lower Realm. And for him to have reached this realm of Cultivation here... his talent must be absolutely extraordinary.’

Then, she spoke. "Lift your head. What is your name?"

Javier Sinclair: "..."

’Where did this moron come from?’

Celeste Grant’s mouth twitched.

’I have to hold it in. It would be rude to laugh.’

’Listen to that! "Lift your head." Asking for my man’s name. Does she really think she’s The Empress or something? The sheer arrogance! No wonder Jocelyn Grant was so insufferable—it runs in the family. It’s literally in their genes.’

Celeste Grant kept quiet. She was curious to see what other outrageous things this woman would say.

And the woman did not disappoint.

Jocelyn Grant’s mother from the Upper Realm looked at Javier Sinclair and spoke in a tone dripping with condescension, as if bestowing a great charity. "You must be the strongest Cultivator in this Lower Realm. But you must understand, there’s always a bigger fish. What you consider powerful is nothing in my eyes. Your talent is decent. If you are willing to follow me, you can join my family after you ascend."

As Eve Warren spoke, she gave him a haughty glance, her expression clearly saying, ’You should be thanking me. An opportunity this good isn’t offered to just anyone.’

Javier Sinclair actually laughed out of sheer anger.

"Hah! Hahaha..." He laughed, but the more he laughed, the more sinister his face became. Demonic Qi coiled around his body. The eyes that had been so gentle moments before were now glacial. "I have lived for over ten thousand years," he said, his voice dangerously calm. "This is the first time anyone has dared to stand before me and spout such utter nonsense, demanding that I follow them."

Hearing this...

...Eve Warren’s expression soured.

"If I didn’t see some small talent in you, do you think a mere ant from the Lower Realm like yourself could even dream of joining my Warren Family?"

Celeste Grant finally couldn’t hold it in any longer and burst out laughing, covering her mouth with her hand.

"I’m dying of laughter... I know I shouldn’t laugh, but I can’t help it! Hey, Archfiend, did you hear that? She wants you to follow her! I’ve seen plenty of posers in my time, but I’ve never seen anyone quite like her. If you’re going to act all high and mighty, you at least need the power to back it up. Otherwise, you’re just going to get crushed."

’Look at the father of my child.’

’He’s the sovereign of the Demonic Domain, the Demon God himself—his titles are stacked a mile high. But I’ve never seen him demand that everyone he meets kneel and submit.’

’The real big shots know how to be low-key. What’s this woman from some Cultivator Family doing, putting on such airs here?’