Ultimate Villain's Return as a Doctor in the Cultivation World-Chapter 234- Giving option to the Mother

He rose.

The flat, smooth, climbing quality of it — and she was gripping him with everything she had, her legs wrapped, her hands at his forearms, her face at his shoulder with the specific, height-afraid, not-letting-go quality of a woman who had been carried before and was not yet past the part where carrying meant falling.

The courtyard got smaller below them.

Her daughter got smaller.

She was watching her daughter’s face go small with the specific, amber-eyed, watching-it-shrink quality of a woman who knew what the face below her looked like because she had worn that face herself in this same courtyard.

She was crying again.

The flat, quiet, not-making-sound crying of someone who had returned to the crying after a brief interval and was doing it at the specific, low, not-going-to-stop-for-a-while register.

He did not say anything.

He held her.

He carried her higher.

"—please—" She said it against his shoulder. The flat, present, quiet, muffled quality of a word said into fabric rather than at someone.

He flew.

She looked down at the courtyard once more — at the small figure, her daughter, still on her knees, getting smaller still — and then she did not look down again.

She looked at nothing for three seconds.

Then she looked at his jaw.

At the flat, present, forward, going-somewhere quality of his face.

She breathed.

"—Cultivator—"

He did not look at her.

"—please—"

"You have said that word many times today," he said.

The flat, present, matter-of-fact delivery.

She breathed.

"—she is alone—" Her voice. The flat, present, low, genuine quality of a voice that had run out of everything except the specific, mother’s version of genuine that did not require tone or performance to be what it was. "—she is alone in that courtyard and she has been alone for however long she was in there and I cannot leave her alone again I cannot—"

She stopped.

The flat, ran-out-of-breath quality of stopping.

He flew.

She looked at his jaw again.

"—please," she said. "—Sir. Cultivator. Please take my daughter too."

He stopped.

The flat, both-feet-finding-nothing, mid-air, I-have-stopped quality of a cultivator halting in space — not descending, not ascending, the specific, held-position quality of someone who had received information that changed the calculation and was running the new calculation.

He looked at her.

She looked at him.

His hand was at her chest.

Had been since before the ascent.

His palm at the full, warm, dense, near-manifestation-yin-lineage warmth of it — not deliberately, the flat, present, it-had-been-there-and-stayed-there quality of a hand that had not been reassigned.

He gripped slightly.

Not the full grip.

The flat, present, small, finger-closing quality of someone testing a reading while thinking about something else.

"—Aaahn~...—" The involuntary, low, present quality of her sound.

She looked at him with the amber eyes — wet, red-rimmed, completely-present, not-performing-the-please.

He looked at her.

He looked back at the courtyard below.

At the small figure.

At the Yin Devouring Body, Foundation Establishment Early, fully restored, sitting in the broken stone.

"What would you give me," he said.

Flat. The flat, present, matter-of-fact quality of someone asking a specific, logistics question.

She breathed.

"—whatever you want—" She said it the way she said things now, the flat, everything-available, no-reserve quality of a woman who had been through this morning since before the sun was up and had filed everything she had been holding into the available-for-this category. "—I have nothing to give. I am a mortal woman. I have no cultivation. I have no sect, no family, nothing of value. I have—"

She stopped.

The flat, present, arriving-at-the-only-thing-left quality of someone who had been listing inventory and had reached the last item.

She looked at him.

Her eyes were at his.

"—I have only this body," she said.

The flat, present, here-it-is quality of it.

He looked at her.

He looked at the figure in the courtyard below.

He said:

"I will fuck your daughter too."

The flat, present, stated-like-a-logistics-decision quality of it.

She went still.

The specific, full-body, mid-air, legs-still-wrapped-around-him, hands-still-gripping-his-arms, complete stillness of a woman who had received a sentence and was processing it.

She looked at him.

He looked at her with the flat, present, I-said-what-I-said, waiting-for-the-calculation quality of someone who had made a statement and was giving her time to file it.

She breathed.

"—what—"

"Your daughter," he said. "I will take her with us. If I like how her body performs, I will allow her to accompany me."

She looked at him.

The flat, amber-eyed, present, everything-in-one-look quality of a mother who had just been told the terms.

She looked down.

At the courtyard.

At her daughter.

At the small figure on her knees in the broken-sect stone.

She looked at the figure for a long time.

She bit her lip.

The flat, present, biting-down-hard-enough-to-feel quality of it.

She looked at him.

"—I promise you will like her," she said.

The flat, present, mother-who-has-decided quality of the delivery.

He looked at her.

He descended.

’’’

He came down in the courtyard with the flat, smooth, controlled-descent, both-feet-finding-the-stone quality of a cultivator returning to a surface he had left.

He set her down.

She found her feet.

She was already moving before her feet had fully confirmed the ground — the flat, forward, no-interval, toward-her-daughter motion of a woman who had descended with a specific purpose.

The daughter was on her knees.

She had been kneeling since she came down — not the cultivator’s lotus, the flat, both-knees-on-broken-stone, weight-on-the-heels, this-is-just-where-my-legs-went kneeling of a girl who had watched her mother go up and had sat down with the weight of it.

The mother arrived.

She knelt too.

Both knees on the courtyard stone and her arms going forward and her daughter’s face coming up in surprise — the flat, looking-up, mother-is-here quality of brown eyes receiving the information that the person they had watched leave was back.

"—Mother—"

She was in her arms.

The second hold of the morning — different from the first, the specific, mother-is-back, you-didn’t-go-far, the-ground-is-here quality of the second hold — and the daughter’s face at her shoulder and the mother’s hand at the back of her daughter’s head with the flat, full-palm, I-am-here hold.

"—Mother—" Her daughter’s voice. The flat, muffled, into-her-shoulder, I-thought-you-were-going quality of it. "—I thought—"

"—I am here," the mother said. The flat, present, one-sentence, this-is-the-only-sentence quality of it. "—I am here."

The daughter breathed.

She looked up from her mother’s shoulder.

At him.

He was standing at the courtyard’s center with the flat, present, waiting quality of someone who was not in a hurry and was letting the thing finish before the next thing.

She looked at him.

Then at her mother.

Her mother pulled back from the hold slightly — still close, the flat, hand-on-her-daughter’s-face, amber-eyes-at-brown-eyes quality of a mother who had something to say and was saying it at the close range appropriate for what she was saying.

"—he is taking us both," the mother said.

The daughter’s eyes went wide.

The flat, present, brown-eyed, receiving-good-news quality of wide eyes.

"—both—really—Master would—" She looked at him. At the flat, present, you-changed-your-mind quality of her look. "—Master would take me too—"

Her mother’s hand was still at her face.

She looked back at her mother.

Something in her mother’s face.

The flat, present, there-is-more-to-this quality of amber eyes that had something else in them that the good news had not fully accounted for.

"—Mother—what—"

"—he wants to taste your body," the mother said.

The flat, present, said-it-directly delivery.

The daughter’s face.

The specific, going-blank, what-does-that-mean-exactly, I-know-what-that-means, processing-what-it-means quality of a face receiving a sentence.

She looked at her mother.

"—what—" She said.

"—he will have sex with you," the mother said. The flat, present, more-direct-than-before, saying-it-plainly-because-she-needs-to-understand-it-plainly delivery. "—if you perform well, he will keep you with us. If not—"