Opening The Cultivation World's First Host Club

Synopsis

My name is Rebecca Ginger. I transmigrated into the world of cultivation as an outer disciple of the Celestial Sect, stuck with low talent and struggling to survive at the bottom of the sect hierarchy. "Others who transmigrated end up as geniuses or young mistresses. Why am I the unlucky one?" Following the usual script, I should be working hard, defying fate, and putting those vicious girls in their place. "Forget it... I'm done." I sprawled back on the grass. "Last life, I worked myself to death. This life, I'm supposed to grind through mystic ascension? Hard pass." Just as I was about to embrace the slacker life, a wave of laughter caught my ear. Several female cultivators dressed in luxurious robes were chatting over tea in a nearby pavilion. "Olive, I heard Marcel from Silvercrest Peak gifted you another magical tool?" "Hmph, just a shabby sword. Nothing worth showing off." "Olive's standards are so high. But Marcel really is handsome and dashing..." I squinted, studying these high-society cultivators. A bold idea began to take shape. In this world, female cultivators suppress their emotions, leading dull and rigid lives. "Emotional value. Emotional consumption!" I slapped my thigh. "Female cultivators need stress relief too." Where there was demand, there was opportunity. Long-term emotional repression made female cultivators more prone to inner demons, an officially recognized obstacle in cultivation. If I could offer them a place to relax, release pressure, and unwind... I stroked my chin, revealing a capitalist smile. The next day, I used the original host's remaining savings to rent a small building at the foot of the mountain. "From today onward, this will be the cultivation world's very first host club."