Ultimate Villain's Return as a Doctor in the Cultivation World-Chapter 47- Trap to Lure Liling

She was stunning even in degradation—elegant features, expensive jewelry that she’d been "allowed" to keep, and a haunted expression that spoke of aristocratic upbringing destroyed.

Her cheeks were visibly swollen from prolonged use, jaw aching, but she continued her work because stopping meant punishment.

Patriarch Wu reached down almost absently, hand tangling in her elaborate hairstyle, and pushed her down further.

She gagged—eyes watering, throat convulsing—but didn’t pull away.

"By the way," Patriarch Wu said conversationally, as if not currently having his cock serviced, addressing Elder Song below him. "How’s that merchant takeover progressing? The Zhao family business?"

Elder Song barely glanced up from his own "entertainment."

"Smoothly, Patriarch," he replied, voice carrying that phlegmy rasp of the very old. "I visited their estate personally last week. Delivered the ’marriage proposal’ terms."

He took a long drink of wine, then continued.

"Told them to send their daughter here. What was her name again...?"

He paused, making an exaggerated show of trying to remember, even as the woman between his legs choked on his cock. He grabbed her hair and pulled her down harder, making her gag loudly.

"Glllkkk~!!"

"Ah yes," Elder Song smiled cruelly. "Liling. Zhao Liling. Saw her portrait—good body. Young, fertile. She’ll make an adequate addition to Disciple Feng’s collection."

Another elder—Elder Qin, fat and jovial—laughed so hard he nearly choked on his spirit beast meat.

"Hahaha! Elder Song, you shouldn’t be so hard on your future daughter-in-law!"

The joke earned raucous laughter from the surrounding tables. Everyone knew "Disciple Feng’s collection" meant concubine—barely above a prostitute in status.

Elder Song’s eyes gleamed with dark amusement as he looked down at the woman servicing him. She was crying silently while still performing her duty, knowing any hesitation would mean pain.

"Come on," Elder Song said, voice dripping with false magnanimity. "Her father sold the marriage rights. Her mother will become ’staff’ at our... entertainment houses. Aren’t I being generous giving her a man’s cock before her wedding night? That useless Disciple Feng probably won’t even touch her for months—too busy with his other girls."

"True, true!" Another elder chimed in. "You’re quite the benevolent master, Elder Song!"

More laughter. Cruel. Hungry. Like wolves discussing their next meal.

Patriarch Wu spoke again, voice cutting through the merriment.

"And the business itself? The Zhao merchant network?"

"Already prepared, Patriarch," Elder Song replied, suddenly more serious. Business was business, after all. "Zhao Merchant Lord has extensive trade routes through three provinces—spiritual herbs, mortal goods, some black market connections. Once the marriage happens, we’ll accuse him of embezzlement or sect disrespect—doesn’t matter which. Execute him publicly, seize assets, and the girl will be too compromised to inherit."

"The mother?"

"Widowed, disgraced, in debt to the sect... she’ll ’volunteer’ for our entertainment district. We have a shortage of mature stock."

The casual way he discussed destroying an entire family—murder, theft, sexual slavery—as if it were no different than planning a harvest.

"Excellent," Patriarch Wu nodded approvingly. "Very efficient, Elder Song. I can see why you’ve lasted so long in your position."

The compliment made Elder Song preen with pride even as the broken woman between his legs continued choking.

The Truth Revealed

"What I don’t understand," said Elder Qin, the fat one, picking meat from his teeth with a spiritual jade toothpick, "is why we’re bothering with the marriage pretense at all. Why not just take the business directly?"

"Appearances," Patriarch Wu explained patiently. "We’re a righteous sect. We maintain our reputation by maintaining proper forms. Marriage alliance, tragic accident, inheritance disputes—it’s all legal. No one can accuse us of simple banditry."

"We’re not bandits," Elder Song agreed, voice oily with false righteousness. "We’re cultivators. We operate within societal structures. That’s what separates us from demonic sects."

The irony was lost on none of them. They knew exactly what they were.

"Besides," another elder added, "the girl has some minor talent. If she awakens a spiritual root, we can make use of her. If not, well... there are other uses for pretty young women in a sect."

More laughter. More crude agreements.

The woman on the dinner table finally broke, a sob escaping despite her best efforts to remain silent.

CRACK!

One of the disciples backhanded her across the face.

"Crying? Really? You’re ruining the ambiance."

"Throw her out. Bring a fresh one."

Two junior disciples grabbed the sobbing woman and dragged her away toward the "back rooms"—where rejected entertainment was "repurposed."

No one spared her a second glance.

This was the Wujang Sect.

Respected. Powerful. One of the major cultivation forces in three provinces.

And built entirely on suffering, exploitation, and systematic cruelty disguised as righteousness.

"To prosperity," Patriarch Wu raised his wine cup, the woman still working between his legs unacknowledged.

"To prosperity!" The elders echoed, cups raised.

"And to new acquisitions!"

More laughter. More drinking. More sounds of suffering from the shadows.

And somewhere, three days’ journey away, Zhao Liling knelt in a forest clearing—

Offering her body and soul to a man she thought was a hero.

Having no idea what awaited her family if Cang Wuhen didn’t intervene.

Elder Song’s Private Thoughts

As the feast continued around him, Elder Song finally finished with the woman servicing him. He pushed her away carelessly, not even looking as she collapsed to the side, gasping and coughing.

His mind turned to the Zhao girl—Liling.

He’d seen her once, years ago, at a merchant gathering. She’d been maybe sixteen then, already beautiful, already showing the curves that promised excellent breeding potential.

He’d wanted her immediately. Not for Disciple Feng—that useless wastrel who couldn’t even manage the twelve concubines he already had.

No, Elder Song wanted her for himself.

The plan was simple: Marry her to Feng to maintain appearances. Let the fool have her for the wedding night if he even bothered. Then, within a month, arrange a "training accident" that would leave Feng dead or crippled.

As the grieving master taking responsibility for his student’s widow, Elder Song would "generously" take her into his personal household.

Where he’d spend the next century breaking her. Molding her. Making her into the perfect toy—young enough to last, noble enough to degrade, beautiful enough to never tire of.

His current collection of women were all used up. Broken beyond entertainment value. He needed fresh stock.

And Liling... young, virgin, from a good family...

She’d be perfect.

"Elder Song," Patriarch Wu’s voice interrupted his reverie. "You’re smiling quite intensely. Thinking about your new acquisition?"

"Just planning ahead, Patriarch," Elder Song replied smoothly. "Making sure all pieces fall into place."

"Good, good. Attention to detail is what makes a successful operation."

If only they knew that their perfect plan had already encountered an obstacle.

That Zhao Liling’s caravan had been attacked by bandits three days ago.

That she should be dead or violated by now.

That she’d never arrive at Wujang City.

That the merchant business would slip through their fingers because the key piece—the girl herself—was gone.

But they didn’t know.

Wouldn’t know until the deadline passed and she failed to arrive.

By then, they’d just shrug and pivot to a more direct approach: Kill the father, enslave the mother, seize assets anyway. Slightly messier, but achievable.

In the grand scheme of things, one merchant family’s destruction was barely noteworthy.

Just another day in the cultivation world.

Just another example of the strong devouring the weak.

The natural order.

Or so they believed.