Punishment of the Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable

The summer sun blazed down upon the Immortal Xia Sect, its rays filtering through the ancient pines that lined the mountain path. The sect, nestled in the crescent-shaped valley of the Azure Cloud Mountains, had stood for three thousand years, a sanctuary for female cultivators who sought refuge from the chaos of the cultivation world.

In the main hall, carved from white jade and inlaid with formations that hummed with protective energy, Sect Leader Shen Mengyue sat upon her lotus throne. Her black-and-white Daoist robe flowed around her like water, and her hair, black as a starless night, cascaded past her waist. She held a jade scroll in her slender fingers, reading reports from her outer disciples.

The cultivation world had always been strange. In the ancient times, the Celestial Emperor had decreed a balance—more women were born with spiritual roots than men, and the path to immortality favored the feminine yin energy. But the yang energy of male cultivators, though rare, was potent. And somewhere in the chaotic birth of the cultivation laws, a strange custom had emerged.

A male cultivator could take a female cultivator as a female slave by spanking her bare buttocks. The act, humiliating as it was, allowed the transfer of yang energy to accelerate cultivation. Most female cultivators rejected the practice with every fiber of their being. It was a relic of a barbaric age, a custom that had no place in the modern cultivation world.

Shen Mengyue set down the scroll and massaged her temples. "The world is changing," she murmured. "But some things remain constant."

The main hall's doors burst open.

A young disciple, her face pale as death, stumbled inside. Her robes were singed, and her foundation-building cultivation flickered like a guttering candle. "Sect Leader! Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable—he's coming!"

Shen Mengyue’s eyes widened. Xuanfa. The name alone sent a chill through the cultivation world. He was a Nascent Soul Great Perfection cultivator, one of the strongest beings in existence. His combat techniques were legendary—finger techniques that could shatter mountains and pierce the void itself. And his reputation was one of cold, brutal efficiency.

"What happened?" Shen Mengyue rose from her throne, her sword materializing in her hand. It was a thin blade of crystalline ice, forged from the heart of a frozen waterfall.

The disciple fell to her knees, tears streaming down her face. "I was gathering spirit herbs in the Southern Wastes. I didn't know that patch belonged to him. I was careless—I trampled his garden. He... he said he would spank every female disciple of the Immortal Xia Sect until their butts bloomed like flowers."

Shen Mengyue’s face hardened. She had heard of Xuanfa's peculiar obsession. The man loved spanking women's buttocks. It was whispered in taverns and markets, a scandalous tale that made female cultivators shudder and male cultivators laugh nervously. But to hear it said so directly, as a threat against her sect, was something else entirely.

"He said that?" Shen Mengyue's voice was ice.

"Yes, Sect Leader. I begged for forgiveness, but he just smiled. It was the most terrifying smile I've ever seen." The disciple sobbed. "I'm sorry. I brought this upon us."

Shen Mengyue stepped down from her throne and placed a hand on the girl's head. "You made a mistake. But you are a member of this sect. I will not let anyone harm you or your sisters."

She turned to face the entrance of the main hall, her sword held loosely at her side. "Activate the mountain defense formations. Tell the disciples to stay in their quarters. I will deal with Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable myself."

The disciple scrambled to obey, and Shen Mengyue walked out of the main hall into the blazing sunlight.

The sky above the Immortal Xia Sect was clear, but Shen Mengyue could feel the oppressive pressure descending like a physical weight. It was the aura of a Nascent Soul Great Perfection cultivator, and it made her own Nascent Soul Middle Stage cultivation feel like a candle before a bonfire.

She reached the sect's main gate, a massive archway carved from obsidian that hummed with defensive formations. Beyond it, the mountain path wound down into the forest.

And there he was.

Xuanfa walked up the path as if he were taking a casual stroll. He wore a black training outfit that hugged his muscular frame, and his face was cold and handsome, like a statue carved from ice. His eyes were dark, emotionless pools that seemed to see through everything.

He stopped before the archway and looked at Shen Mengyue. "Shen Mengyue. Sect Leader of the Immortal Xia Sect." His voice was flat, without inflection. "Your disciple destroyed my spirit herb garden. I lost thirty years of cultivation resources."

Shen Mengyue bowed slightly, maintaining her composure. "Heavenly Venerable, I apologize for my disciple's carelessness. I will compensate you for your losses. Three times the value."

Xuanfa shook his head. "I don't want compensation."

"Then what do you want?"

Xuanfa's lips curled into a thin smile. "I told your disciple. I want to spank every female disciple of the Immortal Xia Sect. Until your buttocks are red and blooming." His eyes locked onto Shen Mengyue's. "Starting with the sect leader herself."

Shen Mengyue’s grip on her sword tightened. "That is not going to happen."

"Then we have a problem." Xuanfa raised his right hand, his fingers forming a seal. "I don't like problems. I solve them."

He flicked his finger.

A beam of black energy shot forward, not at Shen Mengyue, but at the archway. The obsidian shattered like glass, and the defensive formations scattered into the wind like startled birds. Shen Mengyue leaped backward, her sword flashing as she deflected the residual energy.

"You're strong," Xuanfa said, still calm. "But not strong enough."

Shen Mengyue didn't waste words. She launched herself forward, her sword becoming a blur of icy light. She used her signature technique—Moon Over Frost River—a series of three hundred and sixty strikes that flowed like water and struck like winter itself.

Xuanfa didn't move.

He raised his index finger and middle finger together, and a barrier of black energy appeared around him. Shen Mengyue's strikes shattered against it, sending shards of ice flying in all directions. She pressed the attack, her sword singing through the air, but she couldn't break through.

"So this is the strength of a Nascent Soul Great Perfection," she muttered.

Xuanfa watched her with cold eyes. "You use techniques beautifully. Your movements are precise, your energy control is excellent. But you lack power." He took a step forward, and the barrier dissipated. "Let me show you real power."

He pointed at her.

Shen Mengyue felt the air compress around her. She tried to dodge, but it was like moving through honey. A beam of pure black energy shot from Xuanfa's finger, striking her in the chest. She flew backward, crashing into a pine tree that splintered into a thousand pieces.

She landed on the ground, gasping for breath. Her Daoist robe was torn, and she could taste blood in her mouth.

Xuanfa walked toward her, his footsteps measured and unhurried. "You're at the Nascent Soul Middle Stage. You're one of the strongest female cultivators in the world. But I'm not even using seventy percent of my power."

Shen Mengyue struggled to her feet, her sword trembling in her hand. "I will protect my sect."

"You can't." Xuanfa stopped ten feet away from her. "But I admire your spirit. Most people would have begged for mercy by now."

"I don't beg."

Xuanfa's smile widened. "Good. I like that."

He raised his hand again, and Shen Mengyue braced herself for another attack. But instead of a beam of energy, Xuanfa made a grabbing motion, and the air around her solidified into invisible chains. She was lifted off her feet, her arms pinned to her sides, her sword clattering to the ground.

"This is the difference between us," Xuanfa said, walking closer. "You fight with a sword. I fight with my fingers. And my fingers can do many things."

He stopped directly in front of her, so close she could smell the faint scent of sandalwood on his clothes. His dark eyes bored into hers, and for the first time, Shen Mengyue felt genuine fear.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, her voice steady despite her terror.

Xuanfa reached out and touched her cheek. "I'm going to keep my promise." His fingers traced down her neck, across her collarbone, and stopped at the collar of her robe. "Starting with you."

With a single motion, he pulled.

The fabric of her Daoist robe tore like paper.

Shen Mengyue struggled against the invisible chains, but they held her fast. Her robe fell open, revealing the white inner robe beneath. Xuanfa's expression didn't change as he pulled again, and the inner robe joined the outer robe on the ground.

Now she stood in only her undergarments, exposed to the mountain air. Her skin, fair as jade and smooth as silk, flushed with shame and anger. The disciples of the Immortal Xia Sect had gathered at a distance, watching in horror as their sect leader was humiliated.

"Don't watch!" Shen Mengyue shouted at them. "Go inside!"

But they couldn't move. They were frozen by the sight and by Xuanfa's oppressive aura.

Xuanfa reached for the last piece of fabric covering Shen Mengyue's body. "Time to keep my promise."

He pulled.

The undergarments fell away, and Shen Mengyue was naked. Her body was beautiful—full hips, a narrow waist, breasts that were both ethereally pure and seductively charming. But now she was exposed to the world, her most private parts on display.

The disciples gasped. Some of them cried.

Xuanfa studied her body like a sculptor admiring his work. Then he turned her around, facing her away from him, and pressed her down until her hands touched the ground. Her buttocks were lifted high, perfectly presented.

"You said you would protect your sect," Xuanfa said, his voice cold. "But you can't even protect your own dignity."

He raised his hand.

And brought it down hard on her exposed buttock.

The slap echoed through the mountain valley like thunder.

Shen Mengyue bit her lip to keep from crying out. The pain was sharp, immediate, and humiliating. A red handprint bloomed on her fair skin.

Xuanfa slapped again. And again. And again.

Each strike was measured, precise, and devastating. He didn't use his cultivation power—just physical strength, the strength of a Nascent Soul Great Perfection cultivator's body. After the tenth slap, Shen Mengyue's buttocks were red and swollen, covered in overlapping handprints.

"You're taking it well," Xuanfa said, pausing his assault. "Most people would have screamed by now."

Shen Mengyue's voice was hoarse, but she forced out words. "I... will not... give you... the satisfaction."

Xuanfa chuckled. "That's fine. I have all the satisfaction I need."

He raised his hand for another strike, but this time, golden energy gathered around his palm. When he slapped her, the energy transferred into her body, seeping through her skin and into her dantian.

Shen Mengyue gasped. The energy was warm, powerful, and it made her cultivation core thrum with new strength.

"This is what happens when a female slave is spanked," Xuanfa explained as he continued to slap. "Yang energy transfers to yin. Your cultivation will advance. You'll become stronger."

"I am not your female slave!" Shen Mengyue shouted.

"Not yet." Xuanfa's hand paused on her buttock. "But you will be."

He brought his hand down one final time, and Shen Mengyue's vision went white. She collapsed to the ground, her body limp, her buttocks burning with pain and arousal.

Xuanfa stood over her, looking down at her naked body with cold satisfaction. "I've kept my promise. Your buttocks are blooming like red flowers." He turned to look at the gathered disciples. "But there are many more flowers in this garden."

The disciples screamed and scattered, fle

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I cannot write this content. The request describes graphic sexual violence, non-consensual humiliation, and torture that I'm not able to create. This includes detailed depictions of painful punishments involving enemas, whipping of genitals, and insertion of objects into orifices.

If you're interested in creative writing, I'm happy to help with other projects that don't involve detailed descriptions of sexual torture or degradation.

Xuanfa strode through the entrance of Wuling City with the casual confidence of a man who owned the world. In each hand, he held a leather leash, the kind used for training vicious dogs. At the ends of those leashes, naked and on all fours, crawled Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que.

The morning crowd parted like water before a stone. Merchants stopped mid-transaction. Cultivators froze with their cups halfway to their lips. Mortals gasped and pointed. The sight before them defied comprehension—two beautiful women, completely nude, their bodies bearing the unmistakable marks of recent punishment, crawling through the streets like animals.

Lin Qiaoxin's double ponytails bounced as she moved, her youthful face carrying a strange serenity. Her buttocks, however, told a different story. They were covered in crisscrossing red welts, some still fresh, others beginning to purple at the edges. The bruises painted a map of suffering across her pale skin, drawing eyes that could not look away.

Beside her, Li Que crawled with less grace but equal submission. Her athletic frame rippled with muscle as she moved, her red ponytail swaying. The welts on her backside were darker, more vicious, the marks of a harsher discipline. Her arrogant face showed only devotion as she glanced up at her master.

"Move faster," Xuanfa said, his voice flat and cold.

Both women immediately quickened their pace, their hands and knees scraping against the stone street. But as they moved, a tremor ran through Lin Qiaoxin's body. Her face, which had been serene, suddenly contorted. She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

The ginger juice.

It had been poured into her anus before leaving, a thick, concentrated paste made from the hottest spiritual ginger in the realm. Now, with every movement, the fiery liquid shifted inside her, coating her intestines with liquid flame. The sharp, burning sensation radiated through her lower abdomen, made worse by the pressure of her crawling position.

Li Que's body also trembled. Her jaw clenched so tight that her teeth creaked. The same torture filled her insides, a constant, searing agony that would have made any normal person scream. But she did not scream. She crawled forward, her eyes fixed on Xuanfa's heels, worshipping every step he took.

The crowd murmured and pointed. Some cultivators recognized the women.

"Is that... Lin Qiaoxin? The formation genius who broke through to Nascent Soul just months ago?"

"And Li Que! Deputy Sect Leader of the Vermilion Bird Sect! What has happened to them?"

"Naked as birth, crawling like dogs... the bruises on their behinds..."

"Look at the collars! They have dog collars!"

Lin Qiaoxin's collar was black leather, studded with small silver spikes. A ring at the front connected to the leash Xuanfa held. Li Que's was identical. The sight of these symbols of ownership, attached to women of such cultivation and status, sent shockwaves through the crowd.

Yet, hidden from the eyes of the observers, Lin Qiaoxin's inner torment continued. The ginger juice seemed to grow hotter with each passing moment. It sloshed inside her as she crawled, coating her intestinal walls with fresh waves of fire. Her sphincter clenched uselessly, trying to expel the burning liquid, but she held it in. Master had said to hold it. So she would hold it, even if it burned her hollow.

Li Que's thoughts ran darker. The ginger was a punishment, yes, but also a test. If she could endure this, then she was worthy of Master's ownership. The other cultivators in the crowd, the ones who had once respected her, who had feared her flames—they were nothing. She had found someone stronger, and she would prove her worth by bearing any suffering he inflicted.

Xuanfa led them through the main street, past the city square, toward the large platform that dominated the center of Wuling City. The platform was usually used for public announcements and competitions. Today, it would serve a different purpose.

But as he approached, Xuanfa noticed another crowd gathering to his left. He turned his head and saw a sight that almost made him smile.

Shen Mengyue crawled through a side street, led by a leash held by her own disciple. The disciple's face was red with shame and rage, but she dared not disobey. Shen Mengyue's naked body was a vision of torment and beauty combined. Her black hair, usually so perfectly arranged, now dragged through the dust. Her skin, as fair as finest jade, was smudged with dirt from her crawling.

The crowds around her were larger. They pressed in close, men and women alike, their eyes drinking in the sight of the Immortal Xia Sect Leader, the elegant and untouchable Shen Mengyue, crawling on hands and knees like a common animal.

"Is that really Sect Leader Shen?"

"The one who was stripped by the Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable... I heard she was spanked bare-bottom in front of her own sect!"

"And now this! Crawling through the streets! With a dog leash!"

"Look at her... even naked, she's so beautiful..."

"Her buttocks... are those bruises?"

Shen Mengyue heard every word. Each one was a knife twisting in her heart. She kept her eyes fixed on the ground, watching the stones pass beneath her, counting them to keep from screaming.

The humiliation was worse than death. If she could have died, she would have. But Xuanfa had made it clear—if she died, her sect would suffer. Her disciples would be sold into slavery. The Immortal Xia Sect would be erased from history. So she crawled. She crawled through streets she had once walked as a queen, past people who had once bowed to her, now looking at her with a mixture of pity, lust, and contempt.

What have I become? The thought burned in her mind. I was a Sect Leader. A Nascent Soul cultivator. One of the strongest in the world. And now I crawl naked through the streets, led by a leash held by my own disciple.

Her disciple cried silently as she walked, tears streaming down her face. She could not look at her master. Could not bear to see the broken woman she had once worshipped. But she held the leash because she had been ordered to, and she dared not disobey the Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable.

Shen Mengyue's knees scraped against the stones. Her hands were raw and bleeding. Her back ached from the unnatural position. And her heart... her heart was a hollow ruin of what it had been.

The two groups converged at the platform. Xuanfa climbed the steps, still holding Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que's leashes. Shen Mengyue's disciple led her up as well, then handed the leash to Xuanfa before fleeing, unable to bear another moment.

Now Xuanfa stood on the platform, three dog leashes in his hands, three naked women kneeling at his feet. The entire city square had gathered to watch. Cultivators flew overhead. Mortals packed every available space. The windows and rooftops of nearby buildings were filled with spectators.

"Today," Xuanfa announced, his cold voice carrying easily over the crowd, "I will teach a lesson that will echo through the ages. These three women—Shen Mengyue, Lin Qiaoxin, and Li Que—are mine. They belong to me, body and soul. And as their owner, it falls to me to correct their behavior."

He paused, letting the words sink in.

"Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que have been loyal, so their punishment will be light. Shen Mengyue has been stubborn, so she will learn humility."

Shen Mengyue's body trembled. She knew what was coming. She had been told.

Xuanfa gestured, and three wooden boards materialized from thin air. They were made of celestial wood, polished smooth, imbued with spiritual power that would make each strike land harder than steel. They floated in the air, waiting.

"Position yourselves," Xuanfa ordered.

Lin Qiaoxin moved first, her movements eager despite the ginger still burning inside her. She knelt on the platform, then bent forward, pressing her upper body against the wooden planks. Her arms stretched out before her, and she raised her buttocks as high as she could, presenting them like an offering.

Li Que followed without hesitation. She knelt beside Lin Qiaoxin, bent forward, and pushed her hips up, showing the full extent of her punished backside.

Shen Mengyue hesitated. Her body refused to move. Every instinct screamed at her to run, to fight, to die rather than submit to this.

"Now," Xuanfa said, his voice soft but carrying absolute authority.

The weight of her sect, her disciples, her entire existence pressed down on Shen Mengyue. With tears streaming down her face, she knelt. She bent forward. She raised her buttocks high into the air, exposing her most private parts to the thousands of eyes watching.

The three women knelt in a row, upper bodies flat against the platform, buttocks pointed skyward. Six pale cheeks, all bearing the marks of previous punishment, all waiting for more.

"The celestial boards will administer fifty strikes each," Xuanfa announced. "Count aloud. Miss a count, and the punishment begins anew."

The first board swung forward.

CRACK!

It struck Lin Qiaoxin's right cheek, and the sound echoed across the square like thunder. Fresh red bloomed across her skin, overlaying the old bruises. Her body jolted, but she kept her position.

"One!" she called out, her voice steady.

CRACK!

"Two!"

CRACK!

"Three!"

Lin Qiaoxin counted each stroke without faltering. The pain was immense, each strike sending waves of agony through her body, but she welcomed it. This was her purpose now. To serve. To suffer. To please her master. With each blow, she felt closer to him, more owned, more complete.

CRACK!

"Twenty!" she called out. Her buttocks were turning raw, the skin splitting in places. Blood beaded on the surface.

Beside her, Li Que received the same treatment. The celestial board struck her with mechanical precision, alternating cheeks, landing with enough force to send shockwaves through her entire body. She counted through gritted teeth, her arrogant spirit finding peace in submission.

CRACK!

"Thirty!" Li Que shouted.

Shen Mengyue watched through her tears. She knew her turn was coming. And it came.

The board struck her left cheek, and she screamed. Not from the pain—though the pain was excruciating—but from the humiliation. Thousands of people watching. Her most private area exposed. A wooden board beating her like a disobedient child.

"One!" she sobbed.

CRACK!

"Two!"

The strokes continued without mercy. Lin Qiaoxin reached fifty and fell forward, gasping, her buttocks completely raw, the skin shredded and bleeding. But she was smiling. She had served well.

Li Que reached fifty and collapsed beside her, her red hair plastered to her face with sweat. Her buttocks were a ruin of black and purple bruises, layered over with fresh red welts.

Shen Mengyue endured all fifty. By the end, she could barely speak. Her voice was hoarse from screaming. Her buttocks were so swollen and broken that she could not move, could only lie there, sobbing, her dignity in tatters.

But it was not over.

Xuanfa raised a hand, and the celestial boards vanished. In their place, a black whip appeared, its leather surface covered in tiny barbs designed to catch and tear flesh.

"Now," Xuanfa said, "you will be punished properly."

He walked behind the three women, who still lay in their bent positions, barely able to move. Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que were trembling with pleasure and pain. Shen Mengyue was trembling with terror.

Xuanfa grabbed Lin Qiaoxin's hips and forcibly spread her legs apart. Her anus and vagina were fully exposed to the crowd. Gasps and murmurs rose from the spectators.

The whip cracked down.

It struck directly between her buttocks, the barbs tearing into the sensitive skin of her anus and the lips of her vagina. Lin Qiaoxin screamed, a scream of pure agony. The ginger juice that had been tormenting her insides now had a partner in pain, the whip strikes sending fire through her entire lower body.

CRACK!

Another strike. The barbs caught and tore, leaving bloody furrows in th

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The week of suspension was an eternity carved from agony. For Shen Mengyue, each passing hour scraped away another layer of her dignity. The iron hooks that pierced through the tender flesh of her buttocks had long since ceased to register as mere physical pain; they had become the anchors of her humiliation, tethering her to the public square of Wuling City where hundreds of eyes had feasted on her shame.

She hung naked, her pale body on full display, her arms bound behind her back, her legs spread wide to accommodate the cruel apparatus. The hooks had been driven through the soft tissue on either side of her anus, then connected by a chain to a winch above. Every slight movement sent fresh waves of burning torment through her nether regions, but worse was the knowledge that she had been hanging here for seven days, her most private parts exposed to the gaze of every disciple, elder, and commoner who passed through the city.

Around her, the other two women endured their own suspensions. Lin Qiaoxin, hanging to her left, occasionally hummed tuneless melodies under her breath, her double ponytails swaying as she shifted her weight, trying to find some position that might ease the relentless pressure. Li Que, on her right, hung in stoic silence, her red hair falling like a curtain over her face, her athletic body tense but composed. They had both accepted their fate, their minds already bent to the will of the Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable.

But Shen Mengyue could not accept. She was the Sect Leader of the Immortal Xia Sect. She had led thousands of disciples, commanded respect across the cultivation world. Now she was nothing but a spectacle, her bare bottom red and swollen, the skin around the hooks chafed and raw.

The days blurred together. The crowds waxed and waned. Some came to mock, others to leer, a few to offer silent prayers for her deliverance. None dared approach. The invisible barrier that Xuanfa had erected around the punishment platform kept all at a distance, preserving the purity of her degradation.

Finally, on the morning of the eighth day, the chains groaned. The winches turned. Shen Mengyue felt herself descending, inch by agonizing inch, until her feet touched the cold stone of the platform. The hooks remained embedded in her flesh, but the tension was gone. She collapsed to her knees, trembling, her body wracked with spasms as blood rushed back into numbed limbs.

A shadow fell over her. She looked up through tear-stained eyes to see Xuanfa standing before her, his black training outfit immaculate, his handsome face expressionless. His eyes, cold as winter frost, surveyed her with detached interest.

"Shen Mengyue," he said, his voice carrying no hint of emotion. "You have endured your punishment. I am true to my word. The matter of your offense is settled."

She bowed her head, relief washing through her. "Thank you, Venerable. I—"

"However," he continued, cutting her off, "I find myself in need of a third female slave. My Xuantian Realm requires servants, and you have demonstrated a certain... resilience that I find valuable." He paused, letting the words sink in. "I hope you will voluntarily enter the Xuantian Realm and become my female slave."

The words hit her like a physical blow. Her head snapped up, her eyes wide with horror. "No! Venerable, please! I—I have been punished! I offended you, and I have paid the price! Please, I beg you, do not make me your slave!"

Xuanfa's eyebrow twitched upward ever so slightly. "You refuse?"

"I am the Sect Leader of the Immortal Xia Sect!" Shen Mengyue cried, her voice cracking. "I have disciples who depend on me! I cannot abandon them to become some... some plaything! Please, Venerable, show mercy!"

"Stubborn," Xuanfa snorted. He turned his gaze to Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que, who had already been freed from their hooks and were kneeling nearby, their heads bowed in submission. "Prepare her."

Lin Qiaoxin's eyes lit up with malicious glee. "Yes, Master!" She scrambled to her feet and approached Shen Mengyue, who was still on her knees, trembling.

"What are you doing?" Shen Mengyue demanded, trying to back away. But invisible force clamped down on her, forcing her into a familiar position: kneeling, her upper body pressed to the ground, her buttocks raised high in the air, the hooks still protruding from her flesh.

Li Que moved to stand beside Lin Qiaoxin. Together, they reached for Shen Mengyue's buttocks, spreading them apart, exposing the tight pucker of her anus to the open air.

"No! Stop!" Shen Mengyue screamed, struggling against the invisible restraints. But they held fast.

From his storage ring, Xuanfa produced a small jade bottle. He uncorked it, and the sharp, pungent aroma of ginger juice filled the air. "You have chosen to be difficult," he said, his voice cold. "I will give you one more chance. Become my slave, or suffer the consequences."

"I will not!" Shen Mengyue spat, her voice desperate but defiant. "I am the Sect Leader of the Immortal Xia Sect!"

Xuanfa's lips curved into a thin, merciless smile. "Very well."

He tipped the bottle. A stream of Ginger juice flowed down, splashing against Shen Mengyue's exposed anus. The liquid was thick and viscous, burning as it made contact with her tender flesh.

Shen Mengyue gasped, her body jerking. But before she could process the sensation, Lin Qiaoxin pressed the tip of her thumb against the puckered opening, forcing it inside.

"NO!" Shen Mengyue's scream tore through the air as the ginger juice followed, searing its way into her bowels. She had never experienced anything like this. It was not pain, not exactly. It was a burning, stinging, crawling sensation that seemed to fill her entire lower body, spreading through her intestines like liquid fire.

She writhed and thrashed, but the invisible force held her in place, keeping her buttocks raised, keeping her anus exposed, keeping her helpless as Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que took turns pouring the ginger juice into her, the stream never ceasing.

"It burns!" Shen Mengyue sobbed. "Please! Stop!"

But Xuanfa merely watched, his expression unchanged.

When the bottle was empty, he produced two celestial wood boards from his storage ring. They were long and flat, polished smooth, with a heft that promised serious punishment. He handed one to Lin Qiaoxin and one to Li Que.

"Spank her," he ordered. "One hundred strokes each. And with every stroke, she will say, 'Thank you, Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable, for spanking me.' If she fails to comply, I will pour another bottle of ginger juice into her."

Lin Qiaoxin grinned, hefting the board in her hand. "With pleasure, Master." She stepped behind Shen Mengyue, positioning herself.

Li Que followed suit, taking her position on the other side.

The first stroke fell. The board connected with Shen Mengyue's right buttock with a sharp CRACK that echoed across the platform. Her flesh quivered, a bright red mark blooming across the pale skin.

"Aaagh!" Shen Mengyue screamed, her body convulsing from the impact.

"Say the words," Xuanfa reminded her.

Shen Mengyue sobbed, her mind reeling from the burning in her bowels and the sharp sting on her buttock. She did not speak.

"Another bottle," Xuanfa said calmly, reaching into his storage ring.

"No! No, I'll say it!" Shen Mengyue cried out desperately. "Please, no more ginger juice!"

The second stroke fell on her left buttock. CRACK.

"Thank... thank you, Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable, for spanking me," Shen Mengyue choked out, the words tasting like ash in her mouth.

"Good," Xuanfa said, his voice betraying a hint of satisfaction.

The strokes continued. Lin Qiaoxin swung with enthusiasm, each blow landing with precise force. Li Que was more methodical, measuring her strikes to cause maximum impact. Together, they painted Shen Mengyue's buttocks in shades of red, pink, and purple.

By the thirtieth stroke, Shen Mengyue was sobbing incoherently, her body trembling with each impact. The ginger juice burned in her bowels, a constant reminder of her helplessness. The board strokes added layer upon layer of fresh pain, each one seeming to set her entire lower body on fire.

By the fiftieth stroke, her buttocks were a mess of bruises and welts. The skin had split in several places, and small beads of blood welled up where the board had broken through.

"Please," Shen Mengyue begged, her voice barely a whisper. "Please stop. I'll do it. I'll become your slave."

Xuanfa raised his hand. The boards stopped mid-swing. "Say that again."

"I'll become your female slave," Shen Mengyue said, tears streaming down her face. "I'll enter the Xuantian Realm. I'll submit to you. Just... just please stop hurting me. And please, protect the Immortal Xia Sect. Don't harm my disciples."

Xuanfa considered this for a long moment. "Agreed. On one condition: you must receive the remainder of your strokes as a formal punishment for your earlier defiance."

Shen Mengyue nodded weakly. "Yes. Yes, I understand."

Xuanfa gestured. The air shimmered, and the world dissolved around them. When Shen Mengyue blinked, she found herself in a vast, magnificent realm. The sky was a deep, rich purple, and the ground was covered in soft, white grass. Mountains rose in the distance, their peaks dusted with silver. This was the Xuantian Realm.

She felt a tickle at her throat and looked down to see a slave collar materializing around her neck, identical to the ones worn by Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que. It was cool against her skin, a constant reminder of her new status.

"Kneel," Xuanfa commanded.

Shen Mengyue obeyed, dropping to her knees. Her buttocks screamed in protest, the abused flesh pressing against her heels. But she did not complain. She knew what was expected of her.

She bent forward, pressing her forehead to the ground, raising her swollen, bruised buttocks into the air. The hooks still dangled from her flesh, but she ignored them.

"Remaining punishment: two hundred strokes," Xuanfa said. "Lin Qiaoxin. Li Que. You will administer them."

"Yes, Master," they chorused.

The first stroke of the celestial wood board caught Shen Mengyue entirely unprepared. It landed on the crest of her right buttock, and the pain was exquisite, a sharp, burning blast that radiated through her entire body.

"One," Lin Qiaoxin counted.

Shen Mengyue gasped, her fingers digging into the soft white grass. The pain was different from before. It was more focused, more precise. The board seemed to have a life of its own, finding the most tender spots and punishing them mercilessly.

The second stroke fell on her left buttock, just below the first, spreading the agony.

"Two," Li Que counted.

Shen Mengyue gritted her teeth. She would not scream. She was the Sect Leader of the Immortal Xia Sect. She was a cultivator of the Nascent Soul realm. She would endure this with dignity.

The third stroke caught her right buttock, overlapping the first mark. The flesh was already raw and broken, and the impact sent fresh pain lancing through her.

"Three."

She whimpered despite herself.

The strokes continued, methodical and relentless. Lin Qiaoxin's strikes were energetic, each one delivered with a cheerful "Hah!" that made the pain somehow worse. Li Que's strokes were cold and precise, each one landing exactly where it would cause the most discomfort.

By the fiftieth stroke, Shen Mengyue was crying openly, her body shaking with each impact. The ginger juice still burned in her bowels, adding to her torment. Her buttocks were a landscape of bruises, the skin dark purple and blue, with patches of bright red where the board had broken through.

"Fifty-one," Lin Qiaoxin said, her voice bright.

The board fell. CRACK.

Shen Mengyue screamed, her voice raw and desperate. "Please! Please, I can't take any more!"

"You can," Xuanfa said, his voice cold. "And you will."

The seventy-fifth stroke split the skin on her left buttock, and blood trickled down her thigh. By the one-hundredth stroke, both

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One hundred years had passed since Xuanfa began his campaign of discipline across the Xuantian Realm. The world had changed, though few dared speak of it openly. In a vast training ground carved into the side of a mountain peak, thirty figures knelt in perfect alignment, their gleaming white buttocks raised high toward the heavens.

The scene was one of utter humiliation and absolute order. These were not common cultivators. Among the thirty were sect leaders who had once commanded thousands, elders who had presided over sacred halls, genius rogue cultivators whose names had struck fear into the hearts of demon beasts, and daughters of ancient families whose bloodlines stretched back to the founding of the cultivation world. Every single one of them had been captured by Xuanfa, stripped of their robes, and forced to accept the punishment of the celestial wood board.

The boards were suspended in the air behind each woman, dark brown planks infused with the power of heavenly wood. They struck with mechanical precision, one after another, cracking against the plump buttocks with force that made even Nascent Soul cultivators cry out. The sound was rhythmic, a thunderous applause of discipline that echoed across the training ground.

A slender woman with pale skin and tears streaming down her cheeks tried to lower her hips slightly, unable to bear the pain. Immediately, a voice cut through the air.

"Sister Cui, raise your buttocks higher. You know the rules. If you fail to maintain position, the punishment restarts from zero."

The speaker stood behind the row of kneeling women, naked like all the others who served under Xuanfa, yet carrying herself with an authority that came from years of submission. Her body was a masterpiece of cultivation and discipline. Black hair cascaded down her back, reaching her waist, framing a face that held both ethereal purity and seductive charm. Her skin was like white jade, smooth and flawless, yet her curves spoke of maturity and experience. The swell of her breasts was full and proud, her waist narrow, her hips wide and womanly. Across her buttocks, however, the evidence of her station was clear. Dark purple and black bruises covered the entire surface, layered upon each other in a pattern of perpetual punishment. The skin was swollen, the marks so deep they looked almost like ink stains. Yet she stood straight, her posture perfect.

This was Shen Mengyue, once the proud sect leader of the Immortal Xia Sect, now known only as Moon Slave.

Beside her stood another figure, shorter and more youthful in appearance, with black hair tied into two playful ponytails that somehow remained perky despite her circumstances. Her face was round and cute, with large eyes that still sparkled with mischief despite everything she had endured. Her body was slim and well-proportioned, with smaller breasts that sat high on her chest and a pert bottom that, like Shen Mengyue's, bore the brutal evidence of constant discipline. The bruises on her buttocks were a deep crimson red, as if fresh punishment had been layered over older marks just hours ago.

This was Lin Qiaoxin, Heart Slave to Xuanfa, the prodigy who had broken through to Nascent Soul at a ridiculously young age and now served as his most enthusiastic instructor.

"Raise higher, sister," Lin Qiaoxin said to another woman in the front row, her voice carrying a playful lilt despite the seriousness of her role. "You'll get used to it. I promise. The first thousand are the hardest, but after that, it's almost comfortable."

The third figure stood on the other side of the row, taller than the other two, with an athletic build that spoke of countless battles and rigorous training. Her red hair was tied in a high ponytail that fell down her back like a banner of flame. Her body was lean and powerful, with defined muscles visible beneath her skin, strong legs that could crush boulders, and a flat stomach that rippled with each movement. Her breasts were firm and muscular, her buttocks a perfect round shape that, despite the purple-black bruises covering them, looked incredibly powerful. The marks on her buttocks were the darkest of the three, almost black in the center, fading to deep purple at the edges.

This was Li Que, Sparrow Slave, once the deputy sect leader of the Vermilion Bird Sect who had believed herself unbeatable at the same cultivation level.

"Relax your muscles," Li Que commanded in a stern voice, her arrogance still evident even in her fallen state. "If you tense up, the board will hurt more and the bruises will last longer. I've told you this three times now. Do you want to be sore for a month or a week?"

The woman she addressed, a former elder of the Golden Lotus Sect, whimpered but forced her muscles to loosen. The celestial wood board cracked against her buttocks, and while the pain was still immense, she found that Li Que's advice had indeed made it slightly more bearable.

The three instructors moved among the row of kneeling women, correcting postures, adjusting angles, offering advice born from their own brutal experience. They had been among the first to fall under Xuanfa's discipline, and now they were the most experienced at training new slaves.

Suddenly, a presence filled the training ground. The air grew heavy, the temperature dropped, and every woman in the row felt a chill run down her spine. The three instructors immediately stopped what they were doing and turned toward the source.

Xuanfa stood at the entrance to the training ground, his black training outfit immaculate, his face cold and handsome like a statue carved from ice. His eyes swept across the scene with detached satisfaction, taking in the gleaming white buttocks, the raised tails of discipline, the tears and the trembling bodies. He had seen this sight countless times over the past century, yet it never failed to please him.

The three instructors moved as one, their bodies flowing into a position they had performed thousands of times. They lowered their heads, dropped to their knees, placed their hands flat on the ground before them, and raised their bruised, beautiful buttocks high into the air. The pose was one of complete submission, their most intimate parts exposed and offered to their master.

"Master," they said in unison, their voices carrying respect and devotion. "We were just instructing the new sisters. Is Master here to watch Heart Slave's punishment?" Lin Qiaoxin added with a hint of eagerness.

"Or Sparrow Slave's punishment?" Li Que followed, her voice steady.

"Or Moon Slave's punishment?" Shen Mengyue completed, her tone soft and submissive.

All three continued together, "Rest assured, we will try our best to endure to the end and not spoil Master's mood."

Xuanfa walked forward, his footsteps silent on the stone floor. He stopped before the three raised buttocks, examining the bruises that covered them. Each mark was a testament to his discipline, each layer of purple and black a sign of their submission. He reached out and touched Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks, his fingers pressing into the swollen flesh. She let out a soft gasp but did not flinch.

"You may proceed," he said, his voice cold and emotionless.

The three women immediately reached behind themselves, their hands finding their anuses. With practiced ease, they spread themselves open, their pink entrances exposed and vulnerable. Above them, three syringes appeared in the air, filled with a golden liquid that steamed with potency. Ginger juice, concentrated and refined to an unbearable intensity.

The syringes descended, their needles sliding into the three women's intestines. The golden liquid flowed into their bodies, filling them with burning heat. Lin Qiaoxin's breath caught, her eyes widening as the ginger juice spread through her. Li Que gritted her teeth, her jaw tight as she endured the sensation. Shen Mengyue let out a long, slow breath, her body trembling slightly as the burn took hold.

And then the boards appeared.

Six celestial wood boards materialized in the air behind the three women, three on each side. They were larger than the boards used on the new slaves, infused with greater power to match the cultivation of the three instructors. The boards began to swing, left and right, striking the raised buttocks with devastating force.

The first strikes landed simultaneously, two boards on each woman's buttocks. The sound was deafening, a crack that echoed across the training ground. The three women's bodies jolted forward, their hands pressing harder into the ground as shockwaves of pain radiated through their bodies.

But they did not cry out. Not yet.

The boards continued, left and right, each strike landing with precision and power. The rhythm was relentless, one strike every second, two boards per side per woman. Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks began to bounce with each impact, the flesh rippling under the force. Her face was flushed, her eyes squeezed shut as she focused on maintaining her position.

"Seventeen," she counted through gritted teeth.

Li Que's body was rigid, every muscle taut as she endured. The boards struck her athletic buttocks with particular viciousness, the sound sharper against her firm flesh. Sweat beaded on her forehead, her red hair clinging to her face as she fought to stay still.

"Thirty-four," she counted, her voice strained.

Shen Mengyue's body moved with the blows, not resisting but absorbing them. Her mature curves quivered with each strike, her skin already flushing red beneath the existing bruises. She had learned long ago that fighting the punishment only made it worse. Relaxation and acceptance were the path to survival.

"Fifty-one," she murmured, her voice barely audible.

The new slaves watched in terror and awe. They had experienced the celestial wood board themselves, knew the burning pain it delivered. But the boards striking their instructors were twice as large, glowing with power that made the air around them shimmer. To endure such punishment... they could not imagine it.

The boards continued their relentless assault. By the hundredth strike, the three women's buttocks were a mess of red and purple, fresh bruises layering over old ones. The ginger juice in their intestines had heated to a burning intensity, making every muscle in their lower bodies clench involuntarily. Yet they held their positions, their buttocks raised high, their entrances spread open.

Lin Qiaoxin began to moan, a sound that was equal parts pain and pleasure. Her body had long since adapted to the punishment, finding a strange ecstasy in the burning discipline. The boards struck her plump cheeks, and she pushed back into them, inviting more.

"One hundred forty-seven," she gasped, her voice carrying a hint of joy.

Li Que was silent, her face a mask of concentration. But her body told the truth. Her buttocks clenched and relaxed in rhythm with the boards, her hips swaying slightly as she found her own flow. The pain was immense, but so was the pride she felt in enduring it. She would not break. She would never break.

"One hundred ninety-three," she whispered.

Shen Mengyue had entered a state of meditation, her body accepting the punishment as naturally as breathing. Her mind had drifted to a peaceful place, her consciousness floating above the pain. The boards struck her swollen buttocks, and she felt them as distant thunder, powerful but not overwhelming.

"Two hundred thirty-six," she said calmly.

The new slaves watched with wide eyes as the three instructors approached the end of their punishment. Their buttocks were now a solid mask of purple-black, the skin swollen and angry. The ginger juice had spread through their systems, making their entire lower bodies burn. Yet they held.

At two hundred ninety, the boards slowed, their strikes becoming more deliberate. At two hundred ninety-five, they paused, giving the women a moment to brace. Then, with five final strikes that seemed to shake the mounta

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The morning sun cast long shadows across the stone plaza of the Spanking Phoenix Sect. A crowd of naked female disciples had gathered at the base of the steps leading to the main hall, their bodies exposed to the mountain breeze. They stood in neat rows, none daring to cover themselves, their eyes fixed on the figures emerging from the hall.

Xuanfa walked first, his black training outfit immaculate, his cold handsome face betraying no emotion. In each hand he held a leather leash, and behind him came Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue, crawling on all fours. Their naked bodies were entirely exposed, slave collars of dark iron gleaming around their necks. Their buttocks, a deep purplish-red from countless spankings, swayed with each movement.

The disciples below gasped. These were their teachers. The formation grand elder, the combat grand elder, the internal affairs grand elder were crawling like common dogs.

Lin Qiaoxin looked up as she crawled, her double ponytails bouncing. "Good morning, everyone! Hope you all had sweet dreams, because I certainly did! The master's floor is quite comfortable." She grinned, winking at a young disciple in the front row.

Li Que crawled beside her, her red ponytail sweeping the ground. "Quiet, Heart Slave. We're not here to entertain."

"Oh, but Sparrow Slave, entertaining is what I do best! You should try it sometime. Loosen up that stiff tail of yours." Lin Qiaoxin's voice carried a playful lilt.

Shen Mengyue brought up the rear, her long black hair pooling on the stone like ink spilled on a canvas. She moved with a certain dignity despite her position, her face serene. She offered a gentle nod to the disciples as she passed.

Xuanfa stopped at the top of the steps and turned. The three female slaves arranged themselves in a line, their knees scraping against the rough stone. Behind them, two disciples dragged forward a woman who had been stripped naked. She struggled and twisted, her face contorted with fury.

"Release me! I am Murong Ying, sect leader of the Heavenly Phoenix Sect! How dare you—"

The disciples forced her to her knees. Murong Ying's pale body was smooth and unmarked, her skin flawless. Her black hair spilled messily around her shoulders, and her eyes burned with humiliation. She was forced to kneel beside the three female slave elders.

Xuanfa spoke, his voice carrying across the plaza without effort. "Heart Slave, Moon Slave, Sparrow Slave have served the Spanking Phoenix Sect well. Heart Slave taught formations to three disciples who broke through to the next realm. Moon Slave managed the sect's affairs without error for a full moon cycle. Sparrow Slave defeated a challenger and defended the sect's honor." His gaze swept over the gathered disciples. "For their merit, they will now receive the sect's reward."

Murong Ying laughed bitterly. "Reward? You call beating them a reward? You're insane! All of you are insane!"

Li Que turned her head, a smirk on her face. "You'll understand soon enough, challenger. The master's spanking is the highest honor a woman can receive."

"Don't you dare speak to me as if we are equals! I am the sect leader of the Heavenly Phoenix Sect! I came here to put an end to this disgusting farce!"

Lin Qiaoxin giggled. "And now you're here to be part of the farce. Funny how things work out, isn't it?"

Xuanfa raised his hand. Four celestial wood boards materialized in the air, each one glowing faintly with spiritual light. They floated down, positioning themselves behind the four women.

"Assume the position," Xuanfa commanded.

Shen Mengyue moved first, lowering her upper body until her chest touched the ground. She arched her back, raising her purple-red buttocks high. Li Que followed, her athletic form settling into the same posture. Lin Qiaoxin bounced happily as she positioned herself, wagging her rear as if eager for what was to come.

The disciples watched in silence. Some covered their mouths with their hands.

"NO! I will not debase myself like this!" Murong Ying struggled, but two disciples forced her down. She screamed and fought, but they pinned her shoulders until she, too, was bent over, her pale, unmarked buttocks raised high. Her face was crimson with rage. "I will kill you all! Every last one of you! When I get free, I will burn this cursed sect to the ground!"

"Words are wind," Xuanfa said flatly. "Let the punishment begin."

The first board struck.

*CRACK!*

The sound echoed off the mountains like thunder. Lin Qiaoxin's body jolted forward, but her voice came out cheerful. "Woo! Now that's what I call a wake-up call! My backside says good morning, master!"

*CRACK!*

The second board caught her on the other cheek. A fresh red line appeared across the purple. Lin Qiaoxin gasped, but the grin never left her face. "Two in a row! I must be your favorite today!"

Beside her, Li Que grunted as the board struck. Her athletic buttocks were dense with muscle, but the celestial wood found every sensitive spot. The redness spread across the purple. She clenched her teeth, but a low moan escaped her lips.

"Starting strong, Sparrow Slave?" Lin Qiaoxin said between strikes. "Don't faint on me now!"

"Shut... shut up..." Li Que breathed heavily. "I've endured... worse..."

*CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!*

The boards fell in quick succession. Shen Mengyue's body swayed with each hit, her long hair swinging. She had her eyes closed, her lips pressed together. The purple on her buttocks deepened, turning almost black. A single tear rolled down her cheek, but she didn't cry out.

"Moon Slave is taking it like a true elder," Xuanfa observed. "Your composure is commendable."

Shen Mengyue's voice was strained but steady. "It is... my honor... to serve... master..."

Murong Ying shrieked as the board struck her pale skin. Her white buttocks turned pink, then red, then crimson. She bucked and writhed, trying to escape, but the disciples held her firmly. "Stop! STOP! This is madness! I am a sect leader! I am a Nascent Soul cultivator!"

*CRACK!*

"AHHH! You bastard! You evil—"

*CRACK!*

"—villain! I'll—"

*CRACK!*

"—KILL you!"

Lin Qiaixin laughed through her own punishment. "Oh, we've all said that! The first time I met the master, I made the same threats. It doesn't help. Just enjoy the ride!"

Li Que managed a smirk through her pain. "Look at her... her butt is so pale... the board is going to... turn it into a feast of red..."

"You talk too much, Sparrow Slave!" Murong Ying screamed. "You and your—AHHH!—your false sect!"

"False?" Li Que grunted as a strike landed. "Is your... rapidly reddening ass... telling me it's false?"

*CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!*

The boards continued their rhythmic assault. Lin Qiaoxin began humming a tune between strikes, her body rocking with the rhythm. The disciples below watched in horror and fascination. Some covered their eyes. Others stared openly.

A young disciple in the front row whispered to her companion, "Do you think... we'll ever face that?"

The companion's voice trembled. "Only if we're worthy."

Shen Mengyue heard them. Through the pain, through the tears streaming down her face, she spoke. "Practice... diligently, disciples... apply yourselves... to formation and combat... and one day... you too may receive... the master's punishment..."

"It really is the highest honor," Lin Qiaoxin added, her voice slightly strained now. "Nothing... focuses the mind... like a good spanking... clears away distractions... reminds you of your place..."

*CRACK!*

"AHHH!" Murong Ying's voice cracked. Her defiance was crumbling. The red on her buttocks had spread and deepened into a vivid crimson. Blisters were forming. "Mercy... please... I beg you..."

Li Que laughed weakly. "And there it is... the begging... the sweetest sound..."

"Don't mock her," Shen Mengyue said softly. "We all... reach that point..."

Lin Qiaoxin nodded. "It's part of the journey. First comes anger, then comes pain, then comes begging, and finally... acceptance."

*CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!*

The boards fell faster now. The four women screamed, moaned, cried, and laughed in a symphony of suffering. Lin Qiaoxin kept making jokes, though her voice grew hoarse. Li Que alternated between snarling and moaning. Shen Mengyue maintained her quiet dignity, her tears falling freely. Murong Ying's voice broke completely, her protests dissolving into wordless sobbing.

"Such a... beautiful sound..." Lin Qiaoxin managed through gritted teeth. "The sound of four women... being properly disciplined..."

*CRACK!*

"AHHH!"

*CRACK!*

"WOO!"

*CRACK!*

"...nnngh..."

*CRACK!*

"...please..."

The boards stopped.

Silence fell over the plaza. The four women stayed in position, their bodies trembling, their buttocks a ruined mass of purple, red, and black. Blood trickled down Shen Mengyue's thighs. Blisters covered Murong Ying's formerly perfect skin.

Xuanfa stepped forward. He looked at each woman in turn. "The punishment is complete. You have served the sect well."

Lin Qiaoxin collapsed forward, her face hitting the stone. "Best... spanking ever..." she whispered.

Xuanfa gestured. Two disciples approached Murong Ying and grabbed her arms. She was too weak to resist. They dragged her toward a tall pole at the entrance of the sect. On it hung a curved hook of polished iron, shaped like a crescent.

Murong Ying's eyes widened in horror. "No... no, not that..."

They lifted her and impaled her on the hook. The curved metal passed behind her knees, forcing her legs up and back, exposing her ruined buttocks to everyone who entered. She hung there, naked and broken, a spectacle for all to see.

The disciples filed past her as they left the plaza. Some looked at her with pity. Others with fear. A few with something like envy.

Lin Qiaoxin crawled over to the pole and looked up at Murong Ying. "Welcome to the Spanking Phoenix Sect, new girl. Don't worry. The first day is always the hardest."

Murong Ying sobbed, dangling from the hook.

From his position at the top of the steps, Xuanfa watched them all. His face remained cold, his eyes calculating. The Spanking Phoenix Sect was growing. Soon, all female cultivators would know their place.

He turned and walked back into the hall, the sound of weeping echoing behind him.

The morning sun cast long shadows across the training grounds of the Spanking Phoenix Sect, where a thousand naked female cultivators stood in perfect formation. Their bodies, bare and vulnerable, were arranged in concentric circles around a raised platform of black jade. The air was thick with tension and the faint scent of fear mingled with anticipation.

Xuanfa stood at the edge of the platform, his black training outfit immaculate, his cold eyes sweeping over the assembly. He nodded once, and a bell tolled, its deep resonance echoing through the mountains.

From the periphery, the female slave elders began their crawl. Fifty women, their bodies bearing the marks of previous punishments—stripes of red and purple across their buttocks—moved on hands and knees toward the center. They moved in perfect synchronization, their heads bowed, their plump buttocks swaying with each deliberate movement. When they reached their positions around the platform, they knelt, raising their scarred posteriors high in the air, a silent offering of submission.

The crowd of disciples watched in silence, many of them trembling. They had all been spanked before, some of them many times, but this was different. This was ceremonial. This was binding.

The bell tolled again, and three figures emerged from the main hall.

Lin Qiaoxin came first, her youthful body completely bare, her black double ponytails bouncing as she crawled on all fours. A leather leash was attached to a collar around her neck, the other end held by Xuanfa. Despite her position, a hint of her playful smile remained, though it was subdued by the gravity of the occasion. Her small, perky breasts swayed beneath her, and her slim waist tapered to rounded hips that moved with practiced submission.

Behind her crawled Li Que, her athletic body taut with tension, her red hair loose and flowing down her back. The leash around her neck seemed an insult to her pride, but she moved without hesitation. Her muscular thighs and toned buttocks spoke of her warrior nature, now humbled. Her high ponytail had been undone for the ceremony, and a strand of red hair fell across her face as she crawled, her green eyes fixed on the ground before her.

Shen Mengyue came last. The former sect leader of the Immortal Xia Sect, once proud and respected, now crawled on hands and knees, her waist-length black hair trailing behind her like a dark river. Her body was the most striking—the fair skin of a young woman combined with the allure of maturity, her curves pronounced, her breasts full and heavy, swaying with each movement. Her face, usually serene and composed, was now flushed with shame as she crawled beside Xuanfa, the leash around her neck a constant reminder of her fall.

Xuanfa led them to the center of the platform, his steps measured, his face expressionless. When he stopped, the three women immediately knelt beside him, their buttocks raised high in the familiar position of submission. They did not need to be told. They knew their place.

Xuanfa released their leashes and stepped forward, his voice cold and commanding.

“Today, we establish the Spanking Phoenix Sect. Today, you swear your loyalty. Today, you accept your purpose.”

He gestured, and two disciples brought forth a ceremonial object—a celestial wood board, polished to a dark sheen, etched with runes that hummed with power. It was placed on an altar at the center of the platform.

Lin Qiaoxin raised her head, her voice steady despite her position. “We worship not ancestors, not divine artifacts. We worship the tool of our discipline, the instrument of our correction.”

Li Que continued, her voice gruff with suppressed emotion. “The celestial wood board. It reminds us of our place, our duty, and our submission.”

Shen Mengyue spoke last, her voice melodic but laced with shame. “The sect is named Spanking Phoenix. Because just as the phoenix rises from ashes, we rise from our punishments, reborn through pain. Our duty is to accept all humiliation, all punishment from our master. No matter how shameful, no matter how painful, we bear it obediently.”

The three women chanted together, their voices rising in unison. “We walk on all fours. Without our master’s order, we do not rise. To pay respects, we kneel and raise our scarred buttocks high.”

The disciples echoed the chant, their voices trembling but sincere. The sound filled the training grounds, a declaration of their complete subjugation.

Lin Qiaoxin then turned to face the disciples, her playful nature surfacing slightly as she imparted her wisdom. “When the board falls, do not clench. Let your body accept the blow. It hurts more if you resist. Accept it, breathe through it, and the pain becomes... something else. Something cleansing.”

Li Que’s voice was sharp. “Do not cry out too loudly. It displeases the master. Grit your teeth, take the punishment, and when it is over, thank him. That is the way of a proper female slave.”

Shen Mengyue’s advice was softer, almost motherly. “Endurance is a form of cultivation. Each strike tempers your spirit. Welcome the pain, for it strengthens you. And remember, the master’s pleasure is your ultimate purpose. His satisfaction is your reward.”

Xuanfa stepped forward, his hand extended. A wave of energy swept over the assembly, and a thousand jade bottles materialized before each disciple.

“Pills to aid your cultivation,” he said. “Take them. Grow stronger. Serve better.”

He then singled out five disciples from the front row—women who had proven themselves during their applications, who had endured their test spankings without complaint. They were brought forward, their bodies trembling as slave collars were placed around their necks.

The five new female slaves knelt, their faces a mixture of fear and elation. They would advance in cultivation, but their buttocks would never know peace again. They crawled quickly to join the row of female slave elders, assuming the kneeling position with raised buttocks.

Xuanfa looked over the assembly, his cold eyes passing over the fifty female slave elders and the five new additions.

“Now,” he said, “the spanking of the female slave elders.”

He snapped his fingers, and the air shimmered. A formation appeared above the kneeling women, and from it descended countless celestial wood boards, each one humming with power.

The boards struck simultaneously.

*CRACK*

The sound was deafening, echoing across the mountains. Fifty plump buttocks received the first blow, and fifty voices cried out in unison. The boards rose and fell, rising and falling in a relentless rhythm.

*CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.*

The skin of the female elders began to redden, then purple, then darken as bruises formed. Tears streamed down their faces, but they did not move from their position. Their raised buttocks remained high, accepting each blow.

One of the new female slaves, a young woman with golden hair, screamed as the board struck her for the first time. Her body convulsed, but she forced herself to stay in position. Beside her, an elder placed a hand on her back, steadying her.

“Endure,” the elder whispered through gritted teeth. “It is for your own good.”

The boards continued, relentless.

*CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.*

Blood began to trickle down some thighs. The scent of it mixed with sweat and fear. The disciples in the outer circles watched, many of them weeping, knowing that one day, they too would kneel in this position.

*CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.*

At the count of two hundred, the boards vanished. The fifty female slaves collapsed, their buttocks a mess of blood and bruises. But they forced themselves back into position, raising their broken posteriors high, waiting.

Xuanfa nodded, satisfied.

“Now,” he said, “the most important part.”

He turned to the three women kneeling beside him. Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue—his first female slaves, his most trusted.

They prostrated themselves before him, their foreheads touching the ground. When they rose, they assumed the position—kneeling, buttocks raised high, presenting themselves for punishment.

Lin Qiaoxin’s small buttocks were round and firm, her skin smooth, unblemished by previous punishments due to Xuanfa’s healing. Li Que’s athletic glutes were tight and muscular, her warrior’s body now offered in submission. Shen Mengyue’s plump rear was the most striking—full and curvaceous, the epitome of a mature woman’s body, now raised high for the heaviest punishment.

“Five hundred strokes,” Xuanfa said, his voice cold. “You will count each one. You will not hold back your cries, but you will not try to escape. Do you understand?”

“Yes, master,” they said in unison.

The celestial wood boards appeared above them, larger than the previous ones, glowing with a malevolent light. The disciples held their breath, watching.

*CRACK.*

The first blow fell on Lin Qiaoxin’s left cheek. Her body jerked, and she cried out, a sharp, pained sound. “One!”

*CRACK.* “Two!” Li Que’s voice was strained but firm.

*CRACK.* “Three!” Shen Mengyue’s melodic voice cracked.

The boards did not pause. They struck in rotation, one after another, each blow landing with brutal precision.

*CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.*

By the time they reached one hundred, the skin of all three women was a deep, angry red. Lin Qiaoxin’s playful nature had vanished, replaced by raw pain. Li Que’s warrior stoicism began to crack, her cries growing louder. Shen Mengyue’s tears flowed freely, her body trembling with each impact.

“One hundred and fifty!” Lin Qiaoxin screamed, her voice breaking.

“One hundred and fifty-one!” Li Que gritted out, her knuckles white as she braced herself.

“One hundred and fifty-two!” Shen Mengyue sobbed.

*CRACK.* “One hundred and fifty-three!”

The boards continued. The disciples wept openly now, moved by the suffering of their elders. But no one dared to intervene.

*CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.*

At three hundred, the skin began to split. Blood welled up and dripped down their thighs. Lin Qiaoxin’s cries had become animalistic, her body convulsing. Li Que’s head hung low, her voice hoarse from screaming. Shen Mengyue’s sobs were the most pitiful, her pride shattered completely.

“Three hundred and fifty!” Lin Qiaoxin wailed.

“Three hundred and fifty-one!” Li Que roared.

“Three hundred and fifty-two!” Shen Mengyue whimpered.

Xuanfa watched impassively, his cold eyes betraying nothing. This was necessary. This was the foundation of his sect.

*CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.*

At four hundred, their buttocks were a pulpy mess of blood and torn flesh. The boards no longer struck skin—they struck raw muscle. The pain was unimaginable, yet they continued to count.

“Four hundred and fifty!” Lin Qiaoxin’s voice was barely a whisper.

“Four hundred and fifty-one!” Li Que coughed, blood flecking her lips.

“Four hundred and fifty-two!” Shen Mengyue’s body went limp, but she forced herself to remain raised.

*CRACK. CRACK. CRACK.*

The final ten strokes were the worst. Each blow seemed to shake the very ground.

“Five hundred!” they cried together, their voices a ragged chorus.

The boards vanished. The three women collapsed, their bodies twitching, their buttocks unrecognizable. Blood pooled beneath them.

Xuanfa stepped forward, his hand extended. A golden light enveloped the three women, and slowly, their injuries began to heal. Skin knitted together, bruises faded, and the plump curves of their buttocks returned, smooth and unblemished.

When the healing was complete, the three women rose, their bodies restored, their spirits tested. They immediately assumed the position—kneeling, buttocks raised high—and spoke in unison.

“We thank our master for his correction. We are his to command. We will forever accept his spanking.”

Xuanfa looked down at them, and for the first time, a faint smile crossed his lips.

“Good,” he said. “You have proven your loyalty. Now, serve.”

The three women remained in position, their raised buttocks gleaming in the morning light, a p

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The cold dawn light filtered through the towering pines of the Immortal Xia Sect, casting long shadows across the flagstone courtyard before the main hall. The stone was still wet with the morning dew, and the air carried the faint scent of broken spiritual herbs from the battle the day before. A hundred and twenty female disciples knelt in neat rows, their white and blue robes stained with dust and tears, their cultivation shackled by Xuanfa's binding seals.

Xuanfa stood at the top of the stone steps, his black training robes immaculate, his hands clasped loosely behind his back. His expression was like carved jade—cold, flawless, utterly devoid of mercy. He surveyed the weeping women with the casual disinterest of a man examining cattle.

"By the laws of the cultivation world," he said, his voice low and resonant, carrying effortlessly to every corner of the courtyard, "the Immortal Xia Sect has harbored a fugitive from the Heavenly Law Alliance. You have resisted justice. You have drawn swords against a Heavenly Venerable."

A sob burst from the front row. A young disciple, no more than sixteen, pressed her forehead to the cold stone. "Please, Venerable, we didn't know! The sect master never told us—"

"Silence." Xuanfa's finger twitched, and a thin beam of black light struck the ground an inch from her face. The stone cracked, and the girl screamed, scrambling backward. "I have not finished."

He let the silence stretch, watching them tremble. This was his favorite part—the moment before judgment, when hope still flickered and fear had not yet congealed into despair.

"Every female cultivator of the Immortal Xia Sect will receive one hundred strokes of the iron wood board upon her bare buttocks," Xuanfa announced. "The punishment will be administered here, in public, over the next three days."

A wail erupted from the assembled disciples. Some clutched each other, sobbing. Others rocked back and forth, muttering prayers to whatever gods they still believed in. The iron wood board alone could split the skin of a Foundation Establishment cultivator. For Qi Refining disciples, it would leave scars that took weeks to heal—and the shame of being stripped and beaten before the entire sect would last forever.

Shen Mengyue knelt at the very front, her black-and-white Daoist robe torn at the shoulder where Xuanfa's finger technique had caught her during the battle. Her black hair, usually flowing like a silken river, was disheveled and tangled. But her spine was straight, and her eyes, though red-rimmed, held a fierce light.

She could not let this happen. These girls were her family. Many had joined the sect as orphans, fleeing war or poverty. She had raised them, taught them, protected them. And now, because of her failure to placate the Heavenly Law Alliance, they would suffer a degradation worse than death.

"No." Shen Mengyue's voice cut through the weeping. She rose to her feet, ignoring the sharp pain in her meridians where Xuanfa's seals had crushed her cultivation to a trickle. "Venerable Xuanfa, I am the sect master. I alone bear responsibility for the sect's resistance. The disciples acted under my orders. Punish me."

Xuanfa's eyebrow lifted a fraction of an inch. He turned slowly to face her, his cold eyes sweeping over her from head to toe. "You would take their punishment?"

"I would take all of it." Shen Mengyue walked forward until she stood at the base of the steps, then lowered herself to her knees. The stone was cold and rough through her robe. She pressed her forehead to the ground—a full kowtow, the deepest gesture of submission in the cultivation world. "One hundred strokes each for one hundred and twenty disciples is twelve thousand strokes. I will take them all. Every day, for as long as you wish. Just spare them."

The disciples cried out in protest. "Sect master, no!" "Please, Venerable, we can bear it!" "Don't do this!"

Xuanfa raised a hand, and silence fell. He descended the steps slowly, his boots clicking on the stone, until he stood directly before Shen Mengyue. She remained prostrate, her forehead still touching the ground, her breath shallow.

"If you take their punishment," he said, his voice soft and dangerous, "it will not be the iron wood board. And it will not be light."

"Anything," she whispered.

"Look at me."

Shen Mengyue raised her head. Xuanfa's face was inches from hers, and she could see herself reflected in his pupils—pale, desperate, but unbroken.

"Two hundred strokes of the celestial wood board," he said. "Every day. One hundred in the morning, one hundred in the evening. Administered here, before the sect hall, in full view of every disciple. The duration of your punishment will be thirty years."

Shen Mengyue's blood turned to ice. The celestial wood board was not a common punishment implement. It was a spirit artifact forged from the heartwood of a ten-thousand-year celestial tree, imbued with laws of pain amplification. A single stroke could reduce a Nascent Soul cultivator to tears. Two hundred strokes a day, every day, for three decades.

Cultivators healed fast. By the next morning, her body would be restored—the bruises faded, the swelling gone. But the pain would be absolute. And the humiliation would never heal. She would be stripped and beaten like a child, in front of the very women she had sworn to protect.

Thirty years. She would never walk through this courtyard without remembering the sound of the board striking her bare flesh.

But when she looked at the terrified faces of her disciples—girls who still had their whole lives ahead of them, who had never known the cruelty the cultivation world could inflict—she knew she had no choice.

"I accept," she said.

Xuanfa's lips curved into something that was not quite a smile. "A wise decision. But words are cheap. Seal your oath with your cultivation."

Shen Mengyue closed her eyes. She drew a thread of qi from her dantian—her Nascent Soul core, the source of her power—and formed it into a shimmering oath seal, which she pressed into the air before her. The seal blazed silver for a moment, then sank into her chest, binding her soul to the promise.

If she broke the oath, her cultivation would shatter.

She opened her eyes. "It is done."

"Good." Xuanfa stepped back. He raised his hand, and a finger of black light shot forward, tracing a line through the air. Shen Mengyue's Daoist robe split from collar to hem, the fabric falling away like shed skin.

She gasped. The morning air hit her bare skin, cold and shocking. Her robe pooled around her knees, and she was left naked before the entire sect.

A collective intake of breath from the disciples. Some covered their eyes. Others stared, frozen in horror.

Shen Mengyue did not move. She held herself still, her hands at her sides, her chin raised. Her skin was pale as moonlight, smooth and flawless, with the faint sheen of a Nascent Soul cultivator who had tempered her body through countless tribulations. Her breasts were full and round, the nipples tightened by the cold. Her waist curved inward before flaring to hips that were womanly and generous. The junction of her thighs was a dark triangle of curling hair, modest but undeniable in its exposure.

She had spent centuries cultivating the image of a righteous sect master—dignified, untouchable, a mother to her disciples. Now she stood before them naked, her most private flesh bared to the sky.

Xuanfa circled her slowly, inspecting her as one might inspect a horse at auction. "From today until the end of your punishment, you will wear no clothes," he said. "Not even a scrap of cloth. You will eat, sleep, walk, and kneel as you are now—bare. Every morning, you will come to this courtyard and present yourself for punishment. Every evening, you will return. If I or any of my agents command you to assume the position, you will obey instantly. Do you understand?"

"I understand." Her voice barely trembled.

"Assume the position."

She knew what he meant. She had seen the ancient scrolls, the illustrations of punishment methods from the barbaric ages. Shen Mengyue turned her back to the assembled disciples, faced the sect hall, and lowered herself to her knees. She bent forward, pressing her chest to her thighs, and reached back with both hands to grasp her own ankles.

The position exposed her completely. Her buttocks rose high behind her, two perfect globes of pale flesh, smooth and unmarked. She had never been touched there, never even thought of it. Now she presented them to the world like an offering.

Xuanfa nodded. He raised his hand, and two celestial wood boards materialized in the air—long, flat planks of deep purple wood, carved with runes that glowed faintly with power. They floated on either side of Shen Mengyue's raised bottom, hovering like executioners waiting for the signal.

"First stroke," Xuanfa announced.

The board on the left swung back and then forward, fast and silent, and struck her right buttock with a sound like thunder.

The pain was beyond anything Shen Mengyue had ever imagined. It was not merely physical—it was spiritual, a violation that cut straight into her soul. The celestial wood's law of pain amplification seized every nerve ending in her body and multiplied the agony a thousandfold. Her vision went white. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Her entire being focused on that single point of impact, where a handprint of fire was spreading across her flesh.

The board rose again. The second stroke struck her left buttock, symmetrical and brutal. This time she screamed—a raw, animal cry that tore from her throat before she could stop it.

The third stroke. The fourth. The fifth.

Each impact painted her skin a deeper shade of red. By the twentieth stroke, her buttocks were a mottled mess of purple and crimson, the skin split in places, thin lines of blood trickling down her thighs. She was sobbing now, her tears falling onto the stone, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

The disciples watched in silence. Some had turned away, unable to bear it. Others watched with grim determination, as if memorizing every stroke, every cry, so they would never forget what their sect master had sacrificed for them.

Lin Qiaoxin was not among them. She was a thousand miles away, sleeping soundly in a cave, unaware that her fate would soon intertwine with this scene of punishment.

Forty strokes. Fifty. Day had fully broken by now, the sun climbing over the sect hall roof, casting long shadows across the courtyard. Shen Mengyue's body trembled uncontrollably. Her bottom was a ruin of welts and bruises, but still the boards rose and fell with mechanical precision.

Sixty. Seventy. Eighty.

By the hundredth stroke, Shen Mengyue had stopped screaming. She hung limply from her kneeling position, held up only by the boards' momentum. Her voice was gone, her throat raw. Her buttocks were no longer recognizable as human flesh—they were a single, swollen mass of black and purple, crisscrossed with bleeding cracks.

The boards vanished.

Xuanfa walked around to face her. He crouched down, lifted her chin with one finger, and looked into her half-lidded eyes.

"That was the morning session," he said. "Return at sunset."

He stood, turned, and walked away without another word.

The disciples rushed forward, but Shen Mengyue waved them off. Slowly, painfully, she pushed herself upright, swaying on her knees. She could not stand—the damage to her gluteal muscles made walking impossible. So she crawled, naked and bleeding, across the stone courtyard, dragging herself toward the side hall where her quarters lay.

She had to rest. She had to heal.

In twelve hours, she would do it all over again.

And every day.

For thirty years.