Ultimate Villain's Return as a Doctor in the Cultivation World-Chapter 102- What a Loyal Wife

And he released a fraction of his cultivation—

Core Formation spiritual pressure flooding the compound, and—

Everyone dropped.

Peasants. Guards. Even the merchant family—all of them driven to their knees by the sheer weight of his power.

"Impossible—!!" The patriarch gasped. "Core Formation—?! In this region—?!"

From the back of the crowd, an old man emerged—moving differently from the others, his eyes clear despite the welts on his skin.

’A cultivator. Foundation Establishment stage. The one controlling the parasites.’

"Honored cultivator—" The elder’s voice was oily with false respect. "There’s been a misunderstanding—that girl is already promised to the merchant family—"

"I don’t care," Cang said flatly.

And moved.

His body blurred, closing the distance in an instant, and—

His hand grabbed the elder’s face.

"You’re the one who infected this village," Cang said, not a question. "Demonic cultivation. Blood worms. Mind control."

"I don’t know what you—" the elder started.

CRUSH.

Cang’s hand squeezed, and the elder’s skull shattered like an egg, brains and blood exploding between his fingers.

The body dropped, twitching, and—

Silence.

Every villager stared in absolute terror as an elite Foundation Establishment cultivator was killed with one hand.

"She’s my wife," Cang announced to the crowd, his voice carrying authority. "Anyone who objects can join him."

No one moved. No one spoke.

Even the merchant son—who’d been about to protest—closed his mouth with an audible click.

Cang looked at the merchant patriarch, who was trembling on his knees.

"You prepared for a wedding," Cang observed. "Good. We’ll have one. Today. Now."

"Y-yes—" The patriarch’s voice shook. "Yes, honored cultivator—whatever you wish—"

"Prepare the bride properly," Cang commanded. "Traditional red dress. Full ceremony. I want this done right."

Because if he was going to steal this girl—and he was—he might as well make a show of it.

"Xiao Hua—" He turned to the trembling girl beside him. "Go with the women. Let them dress you. I’ll see you at the ceremony."

"I—I don’t—this is happening so fast—" She looked overwhelmed.

"Trust me," he said, cupping her face. "Trust your sister’s choice. I’ll protect you. Always."

And despite everything, despite the confusion and fear—

She nodded.

Because what choice did she have? The alternative was the merchant boy. Or staying in an infected village alone.

At least this cultivator had saved her. Had mentioned her sister. Had killed her would-be rapist.

’Maybe—maybe this is better—’

She let the women—including the merchant’s silent wife—lead her away to prepare.

Several hours later, as the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of orange and red—

The ceremony began.

Cang stood in the merchant compound’s main hall, wearing fresh black robes from his storage ring—embroidered with golden dragons, expensive and intimidating.

And the doors opened.

Xiao Hua emerged, and—

Stunning.

Traditional red bridal robes, intricately embroidered with phoenixes and flowers. Her hair was arranged elaborately, held with jade pins. Her face had been painted with subtle makeup that enhanced her natural beauty.

She looked like a fairy descended to earth.

And she walked toward him with shaking steps, her eyes downcast, the picture of a demure bride—

Though her hands trembled with barely controlled fear.

The ceremony was quick. Perfunctory.

Bowing to heaven and earth. Bowing to each other. Drinking ceremonial wine.

The villagers watched in terrified silence, minds controlled by parasites but still aware enough to understand—

’She’s being claimed by a monster.’

And the merchant family watched with impotent fury—

The son’s fists clenched white, his planned bride stolen before his eyes.

The father calculating losses, understanding his protection scheme had collapsed.

The mother—

The merchant’s wife stood apart from her family, her beautiful face expressionless, but her eyes—

’Wait,’ they seemed to say. ’Did he kill the Elder?’

Cang noticed her gaze and smiled.

’Should I cuck both father and son,’ he thought, filing that away for later.

But first—

The ceremony concluded, and he took Xiao Hua’s hand.

"Time for the bridal chamber," he announced loudly, deliberately.

And he pulled her toward the compound’s back building—where the merchant’s wife had been preparing the room.

The merchant’s wife.

Cang paused at the door, seeing the woman standing there respectfully, and—

Grabbed her wrist.

"You’re coming too," he said simply.

"Wh-what—?!" Her eyes went wide with shock. "I’m not—I’m married—"

"To a man who treats you like furniture," Cang observed. "I can see it in your eyes. Dead inside. Trapped. So—"

He pulled her into the bridal chamber alongside Xiao Hua, and—

Slammed the door.

From outside, the merchant family heard the sound, and—

Rushed forward.

Father and son both reached the door simultaneously, trying to enter—

But Cang’s spiritual energy sealed it. Invisible barrier preventing entry.

"I’m having my wedding night," Cang’s voice came through the door, amused and mocking. "Can you insects be quiet?"

And from inside—

Female gasps. Fabric tearing. Xiao Hua’s voice, high and frightened:

"Wait—what are you—?! Why is she—?!"

And the merchant’s wife:

"Please—my husband is outside—this isn’t—aahhh—!!"

Father and son stood frozen outside the door, listening to sounds that made their intentions crystal clear.

And could do absolutely nothing except listen—

Cang Wuhen didn’t hesitate. His fingers curled into Meiling’s arm—soft flesh yielding like warm dough under cultivation-enhanced grip—and he yanked.

Her feet left the floor, silk slippers tumbling off mid-arc before her body crashed onto the marriage bed.

The wooden frame groaned, lacquered posts shuddering. Jasmine oil from her skin mixed with fear-sweat, sharp and cloying in the confined space.

She sobbed—high, broken, keening. Her chest heaved beneath torn brocade, one heavy breast threatening to spill free with each ragged inhale. The fabric clung to her curves, dampened by perspiration.

Xiao Hua pressed herself against the far wall, red wedding dress rustling. Her eyes went enormous, pupils blown wide.

Cang moved with deliberate slowness. Fingers working the silk ties of his outer robe, letting each layer whisper to the floor. The temperature seemed to rise with each discarded garment.

His dragon essence thrummed beneath his skin, making the air shimmer slightly.

Meiling’s eyes tracked downward despite herself—then snapped shut. Tears carved paths through rice powder, leaving flesh-toned trails across rouged cheeks.

He climbed onto the bed. The mattress dipped, ropes beneath creaking. One knee, then the other, straddling her thick thighs. His palm found her breast through ruined silk—squeezed. The flesh overflowed his hand, nipple pressing hard against his lifeline.

His other hand traced down the curve of her soft belly, over embroidered peonies on her skirt, finding the apex between her thighs.

He rubbed. Slow, deliberate circles. The fabric dampened quickly beneath his fingertips.

She wailed—a sound that scraped air raw and made Xiao Hua flinch.

Outside the door, he felt the husband’s presence through spiritual sense. That particular quality of stunned silence wrapping around impotent rage wrapping around something uglier still.

"You’re hurting me," Meiling whimpered, though his touch remained almost gentle. Contradicting. "Please, Immortal, I have a husband—"

Cang leaned down, lips brushing the shell of her ear. His cock pressed against her hip through remaining undergarments—the heat unmistakable even through cloth, radiating like a coal.

"I saw him," he murmured, breath hot against her skin. "How his hand was rising. He was going to beat you bloody when you returned home." His fingers found her nipple through torn silk, pinched just shy of bruising—

She moaned. The sound trapped between pain and something her body couldn’t help.

"If you let me fuck you," he continued, voice honey-slow and poisoned, "I promise to save you from him. Make you immortal. Make you mine."

"I’m loyal!" The words burst out desperate, automatic. Fifteen years of conditioning. "I’ve never—I would never betray—"

He pinched harder. Twisted.

"Ahn~!"