The Demon Cult Leader’s Path to Chasing His Wife [Ancient to Modern] - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: New Arrival (Part 2)

Zhang Kuang was slightly preoccupied. While listening to the two youngsters introduce various modern things to her, she began to consider her own predicament.

Currently, her understanding of this world was still fragmentary. Because she had just arrived, she had no manpower or resources at her disposal to search for her wife.

Not only did she lack a single cent of wealth, but she didn’t even have a place to stay.

Zhang Kuang gazed at the two chattering young people and suddenly became thoughtful.

Although her subordinates hadn’t followed her here, couldn’t she simply train new ones? She looked at the two youngsters before her; they seemed decent. Even if their skeletal structures were average and they weren’t naturally malleable talents, she could use her spiritual energy to directly stack them into geniuses of extraordinary talent.

However, how did one go about summoning underlings again?

The Cult Leader fell into deep thought.

In the past, her reputation was grand, and many came to join the cult because of the “Demonic Cult” gimmick. But times had changed; in this world, few people even knew of her.

However, perhaps it was a stroke of luck, for a reason arrived immediately.

The old streetlights flickered intermittently, and the road emitted the faint, fishy scent of moss after a rain.

The barbecue had long been finished, and the stall happened to be closing. The three moved from the roadside to a long bench. Lu Qian and Song Muzhao were working hard to teach the Cult Leader how to use a phone.

“Look, this is the power button, and these are the APPs…”

The Cult Leader listened very seriously, yet she felt lamentably like a fool:

What on earth is this glowing glass screen?!

How can it even sing?

This is too terrifying!

Please stop talking, the Cult Leader wept silently in her heart. I’m sorry, I truly… cannot understand…

Who will save me?

Suddenly, the roar of motorcycles approached from a distance, drowning out the voices of the two. In the blink of an eye, three or four motorcycles screeched to a halt right in front of the three of them.

Zhang Kuang raised an eyebrow.

Three or four hoodlums with hair dyed in various colors leapt off their bikes. The leader, tugging at his leather jacket, sized the three of them up with a malicious gaze:

“Yo, it’s the middle of the night. What are you lot doing here?”

The rest of them snickered, pulling out bright blades and waving them around, the tips pointed directly at the pair.

Zhang Kuang let out a cold snort and was about to speak, but to her surprise, the two youngsters moved faster.

Song Muzhao acted swiftly, and with two “shua shua” motions, she pulled out her phone and all her jewelry.

Lu Qian was not to be outdone, nimbly whipping out his wallet.

He held the wallet in his hands and explained to the hoodlums with a face full of sincerity: “Big brothers, I’m really sorry, I’ve spent all my money. This wallet is genuine leather; it should be worth a few bucks.”

Zhang Kuang was helpless: “You two…?”

Song Muzhao added: “There are cameras on this road, but it isn’t easy for you to come out at night. Take this phone and sell it; just consider it a gift from me.”

After all, they were young masters and ladies from wealthy backgrounds and superior upbringings. In this day and age, if you hadn’t been kidnapped two or three times, you’d be embarrassed to meet people.

Wealth is a worldly possession; protecting oneself is what matters most.

Unexpectedly, though the hoodlums took the items, the leader continued to close in on the two of them. He tossed his knife, his gaze licking over Song Muzhao before transferring to Zhang Kuang.

Song Muzhao felt a bit afraid; Zhang Kuang, her expression unchanged, blocked her behind her back.

Lu Qian bolstered his thin, weak frame and said through gritted teeth: “You’ve taken the things, now hurry up and leave!”

The hoodlum’s tone was ambiguous, his gaze revealing naked lust as he said slowly: “Boy, get to the side. You two girls cooperate, and after we’ve had our fun, we’ll let you go.”

“Don’t come over here!” Song Muzhao clutched Zhang Kuang’s arm, her voice turning shrill with fear. “Don’t come over!”

The hoodlum ignored her, staring fixedly at Zhang Kuang with a “hei hei” laugh: “Running into such a beautiful, cold beauty, I’ve struck gold today.” Having said that, he reached out to grab her collar.

Zhang Kuang looked at him, her gaze seemingly full of pity:

“You truly are tired of living.”

The hoodlum froze for a moment.

As soon as she finished speaking, Zhang Kuang’s body suddenly collapsed and dissipated, turning into countless flower petals as red as blood.

Those petals did not have ordinary botanical textures; instead, they appeared crystalline and transparent under the light, feeling cold to the touch.

The hoodlums lunged but missed, catching only handfuls of petals.

There was no wind, yet the light petals swirled on their own, fluttering like heavy snow, blurring their vision.

The cold, ethereal fragrance of hibiscus permeated their nostrils, as if spring were warming and flower buds were blooming for ten miles across the mountains, to the point that even the breeze paused for them.

When the wind settled, the person before them had vanished, leaving only Song Muzhao and Lu Qian standing in place, dumbstruck.

“What happened?!”

The hoodlum panicked. He tried to move, only to find his entire body seemingly fixed in place, unable to budge. His lackeys beside him were the same, staring at him with terrified eyes.

The voice from behind was cold and rang like a clap of thunder.

“Kneel.”

His knees went weak, and the leading hoodlum thudded to his knees in front of Song Muzhao.

His expression was one of agony, his forehead covered in cold sweat, his body shaking like a sieve.

“G-ghost! A ghost!” His voice carried a sob, and every word he spoke was accompanied by sprayed blood foam. “I was wrong, I-I’m sorry. I won’t do it again, please let me go—”

Zhang Kuang’s expression remained unchanged. She looked at Song Muzhao and asked calmly: “How should we handle this?”

Seeing things go south, the lackeys tried to slip away but were also fixed in place by Zhang Kuang, unable to move. Lu Qian, watching the scene, opened his mouth into an “O” shape, nearly jumping for joy: “So cool!!”

Song Muzhao was also stunned, only managing to stutter after a long while: “Call… call the police?”

Lu Qian, holding his reclaimed phone and wallet, began to clamor: “Goddess! Boss! Do you still need underlings? The kind who have no money but have looks and got a 23 on their math test?”

Zhang Kuang smiled knowingly.

She was indeed in need.

Five minutes later, those hoodlums were stripped bare and tossed into the middle of the main road, tied up securely. Song Muzhao casually called the police, and they left in high spirits.

Lu Qian was incredibly excited, his eyes filled with worship as he looked at Zhang Kuang: “Boss, how did you do that?”

Zhang Kuang was calm and indifferent: “Spiritual energy.”

The classic element of xianxia novels! It had appeared! Lu Qian was beyond thrilled, as if he could already see himself clinging to the big boss’s thigh and becoming a legend in the world of urban cultivation, never having to do those damned business math problems again.

“Then Boss, where did you come from?” Lu Qian continued to ask. “The Netherworld Continent? The Mysterious Demon Realm? The Investiture of the Gods World?”

Zhang Kuang: What on earth…

“I suppose I came from Mount Qiling,” Zhang Kuang deliberated. Not wanting to hide the truth on purpose, she told them the facts.

“I am the Leader of the Demonic Cult.”

After saying this, Zhang Kuang sighed inwardly. She probably wouldn’t be able to recruit underlings after all. Usually, when ordinary people heard the title of the Demonic Cult, who wouldn’t turn pale with fright and avoid it at all costs?

However, the two were clearly not ordinary people.

The two let out a shriek, their tones becoming even more excited: “The Demonic Cult—!”

“That is way too cool!!!”

Song Muzhao didn’t dare to be disrespectful to Zhang Kuang. She grabbed Lu Qian’s arm and shook it wildly: “My lifelong wish has come true! The leader of the Demonic Cult—and she’s so beautiful and good-looking, ahhh!”

Lu Qian also grabbed her arm, and they shook each other: “I’ve seen a real Demonic Cult Leader, and a living one at that!!”

This reaction wasn’t right.

Zhang Kuang: “…Do you two have some misunderstanding about the Demonic Cult?”

There was indeed a misunderstanding, and a massive one at that.

The Demonic Cult Leader in Lu Qian’s mind was likely the protagonist of a xianxia novel, the kind who gets abused and then unlocks a cheat to wash the continent in blood. Wanton, cool, and domineering.

But Song Muzhao’s impression was different. She liked the kind who had a “thing” with some cold, aloof fairy from the righteous path—either being pinned down by the righteous path or pinning the righteous path down, spending every night in song.

Is Zhang Kuang the ‘Top’ or the ‘Bottom’—

Stop, stop.

Song Muzhao cleared her throat awkwardly, hiding all the erotic thoughts in her brain, and changed the subject: “So, Boss, do you have any plans for your first time here?”

Zhang Kuang was stunned for a moment, then said: “I do. I must find someone.”

Lu Qian was instantly curious: “Find someone?”

“Yes.”

Zhang Kuang’s expression was serious, her eyes unable to hide the myriad of tender emotions within. She spoke softly, her clear voice saturated with the weight of the word ‘happiness’:

“The love of my life.”

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