Ultimate Villain's Return as a Doctor in the Cultivation World-Chapter 190- Well Screwed

Not pain — not primarily. The specific, mixed, high-volume output of a body that had been working with a different reference and had just received a substantially revised reference point and was processing the revision at full volume through every available channel.

Her back came off the ground.

The arch — the full, absolute, involuntary arc of a woman whose body had just received something it had not been expecting at the depth it had not been expecting and was expressing the receiving comprehensively.

"—Wait—" she said. "—Wait, it’s too—I need—it’s too big—"

He pressed further.

Three inches.

’—AAAHNN~!!! HAANN~!!!—’

Her hands flew to his chest.

The flat, pushing position.

The Chief’s instinct, arriving at the same time as everything else, the specific, authentic push of someone who had received information about the current size differential and had a genuine structural concern.

He was not moving.

He let her push.

He was not going anywhere.

She pushed.

The full, Core Formation cultivator’s push driving against the Nascent Soul Mid Stage structural architecture — not nothing, a Foundation Establishment cultivator would have found this serious — and finding the wall.

The wall was warm.

The wall did not adjust.

Three more.

’—KYAAANGHHH~!!!—’

The sound that came out of her was the enormous, non-Chief, non-cultivator, completely honest sound of a body receiving what it was receiving at the depth it was receiving it — the full, seated, deep entry of the last increment, the warm, interior, comprehensive sensation of depth that was not what eleven years of marriage had mapped.

She stopped pushing.

Her hands were still on his chest.

They were flat.

They were pressing.

They were not pushing.

He looked at her face.

Her amber eyes were open. 𝕗𝐫𝚎𝗲𝘄𝐞𝕓𝐧𝕠𝘃𝕖𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝚖

They were at the ceiling.

They were not looking at anything that was in this location.

"Chieftain," he said.

She looked at him.

From the distance her eyes had been, which was somewhere that was not the grass by the pond but was receiving transmissions from the grass by the pond, she looked at him with the specific, present, overwhelmed, completely honest quality of a woman who was taking her first readings from a new territory.

He moved.

PAH.

’—AAAHN~!!!—’

PAH PAH.

’—AHN~! AHN~! HAANN~!!!—’

The rhythm.

The flat, physician’s rhythm — the minimum pace that provided maximum information, measured, unhurried, the full, deep, complete stroke of someone who had made a decision about the architecture and was communicating it with the patient, comprehensive authority of repetition.

Her hands had relocated.

Not to his chest. To his back — the specific, instinctive reach of both arms going behind him, around him, the full, comprehensive, warm grip of a woman who had found the specific, available surface and was holding it with the specific, authentic urgency of someone who needed something to hold.

PAH PAH PAAH.

’—AAAHN~!!! AHN~!!! AAAHNN~!!!—’

"You’re tighter than you should be," he said.

His voice was the same. Still flat. The assessor’s register, unmodified by the activity.

She made a sound that was not a word.

"For a married woman," he said.

’—Aaahn~—’

"This is—" She stopped. Her voice was broken across its middle in the specific, honest way of a voice that was also doing other things. "This is—my husband is—he’s a good—"

PAH PAH PAH PAAH.

’—AAAHN~!!! HAANN~!!! AHN~!!! AAAHNN~!!!—’

Her sentence did not finish.

The sentence had been in progress and had encountered an event midway and the event had taken precedence.

"Your body," he said.

PAAH.

’—AAAHN~!!—’

"Is reacting," he said, with the flat, informational register of someone reading results in real time, "to being addressed. Correctly."

She was crying.

The tears were running into her hair. Not the structured, controlled tears of earlier. The specific, honest, involuntary tears of a woman who was having several things happen to her simultaneously and some of them were in the category of grief and some of them were in a different category and her body did not have the processing capacity to manage the difference right now.

"He was bored with you," he said.

"—don’t—" Her voice. Broken.

PAH PAH PAAH.

’—HAANN~!!! AAAHN~!!! AAAHNN~!!!—’

"He was bored," he said, "with this."

His hands came to her breasts.

Both. The flat, full, warm grip of both palms closing over both of them — not the possessive grip, the specific, comprehensive grip of someone who was establishing that these were his and were excellent and would be treated accordingly.

He kneaded.

The full, rolling, thorough motion of hands that had located the specific, full, natural weight of her and were applying themselves to it with the flat, complete attention of someone for whom this was genuinely excellent material.

’—AAAHN~!!! HAANN~!!!—’

"He let—" PAAH "—this—" PAAH "—go—"

PAAAH.

’—AAAHNNNN~~~~~!!!—’

She crested.

The specific, rolling, comprehensive event of a woman who had been building since the first touching and had been running at her body’s full capacity and had now reached the wall of what accumulation looked like before release — the full, absolute, complete event, the gold-amber cultivation light at her skin going from warm to bright as the meridians, loose from the extended dual cultivation input, expanded one increment into the advancing territory.

Her legs.

The warm, heavy, full grip of both thighs coming around him — the specific, involuntary, comprehensive hold of a body that was in an event and was using all available architecture to manage the event.

He did not stop.

PAAH. PAAH. PAAH.

Through the event. The physician’s approach — stay present, stay consistent, provide the stable channel.

’—AAAHN~!!! AHN~!!! HAANN~!!!—’

Her hands had left his back.

They were in the grass now, both of them, the specific, white-knuckled, fingers-spread grip of someone who had found the available anchor and was using it completely.

He looked at her face.

The amber eyes — half-open, looking at nothing in this location, the specific, present, fully-occupied quality of eyes that were receiving more information than their current capacity could fully process.

Her mouth was open.

She had forgotten to close it.

He reached into his qi.

*[System — Fertility Amplification — Active. Impregnation Protocol — Confirmed. Probability elevation: 97%. Cost: 34 points.]*

*[Acceptable.]*

*[Warning: This is irreversible. She will not know the specific origin of the increased probability.]*

*[Noted.]*

He did not stop.

He drove.

PAAAH. PAAAH. PAAAH.

’—KYAAN~!!! AAAHN~!!! HAANN~!!!—’

The cultivation light at the base of her abdomen — the specific, warm, localized glow of a fertility amplification protocol running — was invisible to her. She would feel warmth. She would attribute the warmth to the obvious sources.

He held the channel open.

The Nascent Soul Mid Stage output pouring through the dual cultivation transfer, continuous, uninterrupted, the full resource of someone who had been doing this for ten thousand years channeled into a woman whose meridians were half-open and receiving.

PAAAH!

’—AAAHNN~!!!—’

He released.

The full, complete, warm, comprehensive release — the specific, deep, interior warmth of something that arrived at depth and stayed there, the dual cultivation transfer delivering both the physical deposit and the cultivation energy simultaneously, the fertility protocol ensuring that every biological variable was maximally favorable.

She felt it.

’—Aaahnn~...—’

Not the event — the warmth. The specific, warm, interior warmth of something arriving deep inside her with the flat, comprehensive, permanent quality of a thing that had been placed and was not leaving.

Her eyes rolled.

The full, back-of-the-head, absolute roll of a woman whose nervous system had been at maximum for long enough that it was now delivering its final report through the only available channel.

She went flat.

"Haah...Haaahh~~!!... Haa Haa..."