Ultimate Villain's Return as a Doctor in the Cultivation World-Chapter 213- Make your own clothes.

The two words sat in the morning air.

"What," she said.

This ’what’ was the third ’what’. All three ’whats’ had different qualities: the first was confusion, the second was rechecking, the third was the specific, flat, present ’what’ of a Chief of a Void Return tribe who had just been told she was being collected as one item in a set.

"How would I—" She breathed. His fingers were still moving. Her body was still filing its own comprehensive report regardless of the brain’s current state. "How would I leave my tribe."

He looked at the compound.

At the twenty-five women in the line.

At the five-day warm grass.

At the cedar walls.

At the gate.

He said: "Enter the realm I want you to."

She looked at him over her shoulder.

The specific, present, over-shoulder look of a woman who had heard something and was looking at the person who said it with the flat, present, what-does-that-mean expression of someone expecting elaboration.

He reached into the system.

’[Item Storage: Realm Seed — Ruin-grade. Expanded. Cultivated. Ready for deployment.]’

He pulled it.

The flat, internal, present reach of someone taking something from a cabinet — and then his hand was extended, palm up, and in his palm was the realm seed, the ruin-grade, expanded, cultivated seed that he had been working on since the ruins, the specific, warm, gold-light, dense, heavy reality of a realm compressed into a seed.

She looked at it.

Her eyes went wide.

Not the polite-surprise wide. The specific, full, cultivator’s wide-eyed recognition of someone who knew what they were looking at and was processing the scale of it.

"That is—" she started.

He activated it.

The flat, present, complete activation of the realm seed — the seed opening in his palm, the specific, bright, full, expanding, world-unfolding light of a realm seed deploying, the warm, comprehensive, all-direction expansion of a space that had been compressed and was now going to its actual size.

A door.

The specific, present, spatial-tear architecture of a realm entrance — not a hole, not a wound in space, the clean, cultivator-grade, flat-edge, properly-made door of a realm seed that had been worked on correctly and had deployed correctly.

Through the door:

Light.

The specific, warm, enormous, full-world light of a space that was not the compound’s morning — the specific, different, larger, higher-ceilinged light of a world that had its own sky.

He saw the women’s faces.

Twenty-six women, including the Chief.

Twenty-six women looking at the realm door.

He noted: the specific, comprehensive, full-body, simultaneous gasp of twenty-six people receiving visual information at the same moment.

Not performed. Not coordinated. The involuntary, individual, arriving-in-the-same-second sounds of twenty-six women seeing the same thing.

He looked at the Chief.

He pulled her.

The flat, forward, present pull — his hand at the small of her back, the specific, gentle, non-negotiable forward guide of someone who had decided the direction and was providing it.

She went.

Her feet finding the step, her body following the hand, the specific, present, eyes-forward-and-wide walk of a woman who was stepping through a realm door for the first time in her life and was doing it without her clothes on because that had been the morning’s arrangement.

He looked at the line.

The twenty-five women were looking at the door.

Some were looking at the door and looking at him and looking at the door again — the specific, rapid, back-and-forth assessment of women doing final calculation.

The first twelve — the ones who had been with him from day one, the ones who had the full five days, the ones who were at Core Formation Mid or Late — moved first.

Not sprinting. Not the threshold-sprint of the second session. The flat, present, decided walk of women who had already made their big decision five days ago and this was a subsequent decision and subsequent decisions were easier.

They walked through the door.

One after another.

The specific, sequential, individual crossing of twenty-four women through a realm door while not wearing anything — the particular, warm, ambient, morning light on each of them as they passed through, the brief, crossing moment of each woman’s body in the door frame, and then the realm light receiving each one on the other side.

The last two hesitated.

Not the second twelve’s forty-eight hour hesitation — the specific, ten-second hesitation of women who had been the last to join the first session and were now being the last to enter the realm and were looking at the compound’s gate one more time with the specific, present, inventory quality of women doing a final check.

They looked at the gate.

At the path beyond it.

At the morning.

Then they walked through.

The door closed.

She gasped.

Not quietly.

The Chief’s gasp — the specific, full, enormous, entirely un-Chief, un-managed gasp of a woman who had stepped through a realm door and had looked up and had received the visual information of what was on the other side and had reported it at full, honest, present volume.

"—’Aaahh~...’—"

Not the cultivation sound. The wonder sound. The specific, present, warm-eyed, completely-occupied-with-looking sound of a woman who had been the Chief of a Void Return compound for six years and had seen most of the territory’s landscape and had not seen anything like this.

The realm.

The specific, enormous, warm, fully-realized, world-scale reality of a ruin-grade realm seed that had been expanded and cultivated for weeks — not a pocket dimension, not a storage space, the specific, full, sky-having, waterfall-having, field-having, forest-having reality of a genuine world at reduced scale.

The sky was different from the outside world’s sky.

Not wrong — different. The specific, warm, gold-amber, ambient-qi-lit sky of a realm whose atmosphere had been seeded with the same Herb Integration compounds he had been working with, the specific, dense, warm, richly-present air of a space that had been prepared.

The waterfall.

South. The specific, enormous, white, full-volume, rock-face waterfall of a water source that was large enough to be heard from this distance — the flat, ambient, comprehensive presence of falling water at significant scale.

The hot springs.

Three of them, fed by the waterfall’s secondary channels, the specific, warm, steam-having, morning-light-catching reality of springs that had been here since the realm seed’s original terrain and had been cultivated with his herbs until their mineral content was approximately identical to a cultivator’s ideal meridian-support bath temperature.

The forests.

Dense. The specific, tall, old, ambient-qi-old growth of forest that had been in the realm since the ruin-grade seed was made and had been growing since then in the sealed, uninterrupted, nobody-logging-it conditions of a realm.

The castles.

Three of them.

Not the compound’s cedar-and-timber construction. The specific, stone, large, high-spire, considerable-scale architecture of structures that had been in the realm at its original deployment — ruin-grade realm seeds came with ruin-grade infrastructure, the remains of whoever had built this realm originally, now claimed.

The Chief looked at the castles.

She looked at the waterfall.

She looked at the sky.

She looked at the forest. 𝚏𝗿𝗲𝐞𝐰𝚎𝕓𝐧𝚘𝘃𝗲𝐥.𝐜𝚘𝕞

She looked at the spring.

Around her, twenty-five other women were looking at the same things with the same expressions — the specific, simultaneous, full-body, comprehensive gasp of twenty-five women who had stepped out of a Void Return compound and into a world.

He stood behind her.

He was looking at them looking at it.

He noted: useful data. The specific, present, honest responses of twenty-six women seeing the realm for the first time told him what the realm was worth, and what he was reading was — he noted — comprehensive.

"Make your clothes," he said.