Ultimate Villain's Return as a Doctor in the Cultivation World-Chapter 207- In the next group, Preparation

"should we go for another round?"

The twelve at the perimeter did not answer with words.

They answered with their feet.

All twelve at once — the specific, simultaneous, full-speed, no-reservation sprint of twelve women who had been standing at a clearing’s edge for forty-eight hours in the full broadcast range of fourteen compressed spiritual energy variants and had watched everything that had happened to the twelve in the grass and had been running their own internal calculation for forty-eight consecutive hours and had just received the detonator.

They did not walk.

They did not approach.

They ’came.’

The flat, absolute, no-surplus sprint of women who had exceeded the threshold forty-seven hours ago and had been holding above threshold for one hour and forty-seven minutes by sheer cultivator discipline and the specific, accumulated, white-knuckled willpower of women who had decided they were waiting and had been waiting and were done waiting.

He had one second of watching them come.

Then they arrived.

Not at him — ’onto’ him, the specific, simultaneous, multi-vector, comprehensive arrival of twelve women who had decided that the architecture of ’one at a time’ was not relevant to their current situation and were making their own architectural decisions.

The first one hit his chest.

She was not the tallest and she was not the shortest. She was mid-twenties, Core Formation Early, black hair and the specific, dark brown eyes of the territory’s Void Return variance — and she had her hands at his collar and her mouth at his jaw before her feet had fully stopped moving.

"—’MMNH~!!!’—" Not soft. Not the careful, building sound. The full, immediate, high-volume sound of a woman who had been at forty-eight-hour threshold and had found point-blank range and was expressing forty-eight hours of accumulated inventory through the first available channel.

The second arrived at his left.

She did not wait for his mouth — she had his hand, both her hands around his one hand, pulling it toward her with the flat, urgent, no-ceremony efficiency of a woman who knew exactly what she wanted from that hand and was providing the direction herself.

The third was on her knees.

She was there before he processed she was moving — the flat, immediate, already-kneeling presence of a woman who had made the architectural decision about where she was going to be and had executed it with the specific, no-surplus speed of someone who had been deciding this for forty-eight hours.

Her mouth.

The immediate, full, comprehensive, no-building-up mouth of a woman who had been watching for two days and had opinions about what she was going to do when she got here.

"—’Mmngh~...’—" The sound she made was the specific, low, present, work-focused sound of someone who was doing something they had been looking forward to and was doing it thoroughly.

The fourth and fifth collided with each other trying to reach him from the same angle.

The fourth — taller, amber eyes, late twenties — said something to the fifth that was not a word but communicated the full content of the sentence, which was: ’I was here first and you need to find a different angle.’

The fifth found a different angle.

She pressed against his back — the full, front-to-back, everything-contact press of a woman who had decided the rear was an underserved territory and was addressing it — her arms around his ribs, her face at his shoulder, her mouth finding the specific, warm, point-blank location where the Herb Integration passive was strongest.

"—’Aahhn~...’—" The small, full-body, involuntary sound of a woman breathing in the point-blank ambient field for the first time after forty-eight hours of peripheral range.

She made it once.

Then she made it again, louder.

Then she pressed her face harder into his shoulder and made it continuously.

He looked at the twelve coming at him.

He looked at the twelve in the grass.

He looked at the third woman on her knees.

He looked at the seventh woman who had arrived at his right and was in the middle of making a decision about the geometry with the flat, rapid, cultivator-efficient calculation of someone who had forty-eight hours of waiting sitting in her body and was not going to waste time on suboptimal architecture.

He said nothing.

He let them work it out.

They worked it out.

’’’

The triple arrangement was the eighth woman’s idea.

She presented it the way she presented things — the flat, direct, Core Formation cultivator’s delivery of an architectural proposal by a woman who had been watching the previous forty-eight hours with the specific, analytical attention of someone who was not just watching but taking notes.

She had taken notes.

"Three," she said.

She was already moving — not requesting confirmation, not waiting for agreement, the flat, present, completely self-directed movement of a woman who had done the geometry and was implementing the geometry.

She pulled the sixth.

The sixth looked at the arrangement she was pulling her toward, looked at him, looked at the arrangement again.

"Yes," the sixth said.

She positioned herself.

The seventh was already where she needed to be — she had been where she needed to be before the eighth said anything, because the seventh had been doing her own geometry for forty-eight hours and had arrived at the same solution independently.

He looked at the three of them.

The specific, present, architectural reality of three women who had resolved the geometry problem with the flat, practical, completely unembarrassed efficiency of cultivators who had a problem and a solution and were executing the solution.

He noted: efficient.

He noted: ambitious.

He accommodated.

The arrangement found its configuration with the specific, incremental, adjustment-by-adjustment architecture of three women and one man locating a stable position that worked for all four parties — the seventh on her back, the sixth above her in the stacked position with both of them pressed together and the full, warm, comprehensive contact of their bodies establishing the sandwich geometry, the eighth behind him with both her hands at his back in the flat, pressure-applying position of someone who had decided the pace was going to be communicated directly.

He found both available targets simultaneously.

The sixth and the seventh both made sounds.

Not coordinated.

The specific, individual, simultaneous, completely different sounds of two women receiving input at the same instant — the sixth high and sharp, the seventh lower and longer, the two sounds arriving in the same second but from different locations on the register.

"—’AAAHNN~!!!’—"