Ultimate Villain's Return as a Doctor in the Cultivation World-Chapter 168 - A Loyal Waifu Target

She laughed — real, the short, genuine laugh that she gave very few people — and pulled back to look at him with the amber eyes and the expression that was not the chieftain’s and was entirely hers.

"After the morning council, I want to show you the eastern approach I found last week," she said. "The roe pine grove. The light is good in the morning there."

He looked at her.

"You don’t need to—"

"I want to," she said. "Different reasons."

His ears did not get less red.

She released him, turning back to the clearing with the unhurried pivot of someone whose personal matters were now filed and whose administrative matters were open again, and she was drawing breath to address the three warrior-women who had been very precisely not looking at the previous thirty seconds—

The ground moved.

Not an earthquake. Not a beast impact or a territorial technique. The specific deep ’thrum’ of spiritual energy undergoing rapid compression and release, the signature of a cultivation breakthrough that had not been prepared for by formations or guidance arrays but was happening in the raw, the specific frequency of—

’Core Formation breakthrough.’

One of the tribe’s warrior women looked east. Her hand went to the spear at her back.

’No—’

’Above Core Formation.’

The second warrior woman turned. Her amber eyes — the bloodline echo of the founder’s residue — had gone wide with the specific width of someone receiving sensory data that doesn’t fit their existing framework.

The spiritual energy was not stopping at Core Formation.

It was continuing.

Foundation Establishment.

Core Formation Early.

Core Formation Mid—

’Core Formation Late—’

The clouds above the eastern forest had changed character. Not storm-clouds — the specific swirling density of ambient spiritual energy being drawn toward a single point with sufficient force to pull the moisture in the air along with it, the visible atmospheric consequence of a breakthrough event at a scale the tribe’s territory had not produced in living memory.

’Nascent Soul.’

The word moved through the clearing without being spoken, the specific communication of a group of cultivators receiving the same sensory data simultaneously and arriving at the same conclusion.

The chieftain was already moving.

"East," she said, with the compressed economy of a commander who had processed, prioritized, and issued in under two seconds.

Every woman in the clearing moved.

The husband moved too, two beats behind, because the specific fear of a man who loves a woman who runs toward things was a fear he had been training himself to manage for years and had not fully managed, and his legs made the decision before his mind finished the argument with itself.

’’’

They heard it before they saw it.

The sound the Amazon warrior woman was making had evolved considerably from the first contact — had moved through the raw shock of the first impact and the broken protests of someone who had been overwhelmed and was reporting it, and had arrived somewhere that was no longer protest and was not quite anything else either, the specific acoustic territory of a body that has been receiving at capacity for long enough that the receiving has become the dominant condition.

’AAAHN~!!! AAAHN~!! HAANN~!!!’

The spiritual energy density at the clearing’s edge was already elevated — not the passive ambient saturation of the Void Return residual but active, turbulent, the specific swirl of cultivator qi undergoing fundamental restructuring.

The chieftain pushed through the last stand of cedar.

She stopped.

The warrior women behind her stopped.

The husband stopped and then moved slightly to the side because the person in front of him had stopped completely and he had approximately three inches of height on her and the view over her shoulder was—

Cang was on his knees behind the Amazon warrior woman.

She was on her hands and knees in the soft wet earth of the forest floor, her thick arms braced against the ground, her hair loose and completely abandoned by its original arrangement, her face — the warrior’s face, the face that had looked at him from the branch with forty years of territorial authority — pressed into the earth with the specific, comprehensive pressure of a body that had run out of the structural resources to hold itself upright and had made its peace with the available surface.

Her eyes were rolled.

Not halfway. The specific, complete roll of a body that had been receiving beyond its current ceiling for long enough that the ceiling had started to shift, the dark irises floating upward while the whites showed in the morning light with the honest, undignified completeness of a woman somewhere well past the point of managing how she looked.

His hands.

One was at her hip — the thick, wide hip of a warrior woman built by decades of combat and a Void Return ancestor’s ambient residue — gripping with the flat, functional authority of something guiding rather than forcing because guidance was sufficient.

The other hand’s thumb was—

The husband’s breathing stopped.

Not metaphorically. The specific, audible cessation of a man whose respiratory system had received input that temporarily overrode its autonomous function, because his eyes had found the specific anatomical detail that his brain was currently refusing to process.

Cang’s thumb.

Inside her.

The other entrance. The one that the warrior woman’s body was expressing its opinion about through the specific, continuous ’AAAHN’ that had been filling the forest for the last ten minutes.

PAH PAH PAH.

’AAAHN~!!! HANN~!! AAAHN~!!!’

The spiritual energy tornado was not metaphorical.

It was visible.

The ambient qi of the territory — the Void Return Stage residual pressed into this soil by a founder who had transcended the Peak several centuries ago — was responding to the event in the center of the clearing the way old timber responds to a well-placed match. Not slowly. Not gradually.

’Everything.’

The currents were visible as thin gold-grey lines in the air, the specific atmospheric optical effect of spiritual energy moving too quickly for the ambient medium to absorb, spiraling inward toward Cang and the warrior woman with the patient, escalating inevitability of a formation array completing its designed function. 𝕗𝐫𝐞𝕖𝕨𝐞𝗯𝚗𝕠𝘃𝐞𝚕.𝐜𝗼𝚖

And underneath all of it, underneath the sound of her and the sound of the forest and the sound of the ambient qi restructuring itself — underneath everything — the faint, deep, structural ’hum’ of a cultivation base being rebuilt from the substrate up.

Core Formation Peak.

Still rising.

"He’s—" one of the warrior women started.

"—breaking her through," another one finished.

They looked at each other.

The husband was looking at Cang.

Specifically: looking at Cang’s cock, which was visible at the withdraw angle, the specific anatomy of a man whose dual cultivation output had been running at Nascent Soul Mid Stage for the duration of this encounter and whose body had been adjusted by a System with a thorough approach to partner compatibility.

The warrior women of this tribe were built by a Void Return ancestor’s ambient residue and were, by any standard, physically substantial.

The husband was a human man.

He was a good-looking human man who loved his wife and made her morning porridge and sat with his back against hers when she was cold.

He blinked.

He blinked again.

The number his brain arrived at — the rough ratio of what he was looking at against the available comparison point — was not a number he had a category for. He was not a small man. He was a reasonably proportioned human man. The ratio was not two to one.

The ratio was not three to one.

He kept looking.

Nobody moved to stop it.