Punishment of the Punishment Heavenly Venerable

The world of cultivation stretched across vast continents, where the weak bowed to the strong and the strong answered only to heaven. Yet in this realm where women outnumbered men ten to one, an ancient custom had taken root among the powerful—the Right of Domination. Any male cultivator who could overpower a female cultivator and spank her bare bottom until it bloomed red could claim her as his female slave. The act was not merely one of humiliation; it accelerated the cultivation of both parties, the qi flowing faster through bodies connected by such intimate dominance. Most female cultivators despised this custom, fought against it with every technique they possessed. But the strong took what they wanted.

The Immortal Cloud Sect perched atop seven peaks that pierced the clouds like jade fingers reaching for heaven. An all-female sect of considerable renown, its disciples trained in sword formations that could slice a Golden Core cultivator to ribbons. Their sect leader, Shen Mengyue, had led them for three centuries, her cold beauty matched only by her fierce protection of her disciples.

Today, that protection would be tested to its breaking point.

It had started with a small offense. A junior disciple named Qing Su had been gathering spirit herbs in the Thousand Beast Forest when she accidentally disturbed the meditation of a man in black training clothes. She had apologized profusely, offered compensation, done everything a well-mannered cultivator should do. But the man had looked at her with eyes like frozen lakes and said only, "Your sect will pay for this disturbance."

The disciple had not known who he was. How could she? Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable rarely appeared in the mortal world, spending most of his time in his hidden domain, pursuing his singular obsession.

Now he stood at the gates of the Immortal Cloud Sect, his black robes billowing in the mountain wind, his handsome face utterly expressionless. Behind him, the sun had begun its descent, casting long shadows across the jade plaza.

"Shen Mengyue," he called out, his voice carrying easily across the entire sect, amplified by spiritual power. "Come out. Accept punishment for your disciple's offense, or watch your sect burn."

The disciples who had gathered at the gate trembled. They had sensed his aura from half a mountain away—Nascent Soul Great Perfection, one of the strongest beings in the entire cultivation world. Against such power, their sword formations were as thin as paper.

Shen Mengyue descended from the main hall like a falling star, her black and white Daoist robes streaming behind her, her waist-length black hair whipping in the wind. She was beautiful in the way a sword is beautiful—cold, sharp, deadly. Her fair skin seemed to glow in the fading light, and her eyes held both the purity of a maiden and the depth of a woman who had seen centuries of struggle.

"Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable." Her voice was ice wrapped in silk. "My disciple made a mistake. I will compensate you with whatever spirit stones or treasures you desire."

"I desire nothing but what is owed." Xuanfa's hands remained clasped behind his back. "Your sect will submit to the Right of Domination. Every female cultivator here will be spanked until their bottoms blossom red. Then we will be even."

A ripple of outrage ran through the gathered disciples. Hands went to sword hilts. Formation flags began to flicker.

Shen Mengyue's eyes narrowed. "That is not acceptable."

"Then fight me."

The words hung in the air like a death sentence. Shen Mengyue knew his reputation—Xuanfa never made threats he did not intend to carry out. He had leveled entire sects for lesser offenses. But she also knew her duty. She was the sect leader. She would not let her disciples be humiliated.

"So be it."

Her sword left its sheath in a blur of silver light. The Immortal Cloud Sword Technique was one of the most prestigious in the cultivation world—a dance of a thousand cuts that could shred a Nascent Soul cultivator's defenses in moments. She launched herself at him, her body leaving afterimages as she executed the first movement, the Crimson Rain of Falling Petals.

Xuanfa did not move. He simply raised one finger.

The sound that followed was like a bell struck by lightning. His finger met her sword edge precisely, deflecting the strike with minimal effort. Shen Mengyue's eyes widened as she felt the shock travel up her arm. She had put eighty percent of her power into that strike. He had blocked it with a single digit.

"Beautiful technique," Xuanfa said, his voice carrying no compliment, only observation. "But your foundation is cracked. You broke through to Nascent Soul Middle Stage too quickly, relying on external pills. Your qi circulation has a flaw at the seventh meridian."

Shen Mengyue's blood ran cold. He had seen through her greatest weakness in a single exchange.

She did not give him time to exploit it. She launched into her strongest attack—the Thousand Blades of Frozen Heaven. The temperature dropped sharply as ice crystals formed in the air around her, each one a sword aimed at Xuanfa. She released them all at once, a blizzard of death that should have torn apart any mortal or cultivator below Nascent Soul Great Perfection.

Xuanfa raised both hands. His fingers began to move, tracing patterns in the air that seemed to distort reality itself. The Finger Annihilation Technique—his signature art, whispered about in fear across the cultivation world. Each movement of his fingers created ripples in the fabric of qi, disrupting Shen Mengyue's attack before it could reach him. Ice swords shattered into harmless powder. The cold retreated.

"No," Shen Mengyue whispered.

She pressed forward, desperation lending speed to her blade. She struck at him from seven angles simultaneously, her sword becoming a blur of light. Xuanfa blocked each strike with a finger, sometimes two, never using more than a fraction of his power. The sound of metal against fingertip rang across the plaza like a funeral bell.

After thirty exchanges, Shen Mengyue was breathing hard. Sweat beaded on her forehead, and her perfect composure had begun to crack. Xuanfa had not moved from his original spot. He had not even seemed to exert himself.

"You fight well," he said, and there was something almost like approval in his tone. "But you cannot win."

"Watch me."

She gathered all her remaining qi into one final attack. The Heaven-Destroying Sword Strike, a technique that had killed three Nascent Soul cultivators in the sect's history. It would leave her drained, defenseless, but if it landed, it would at least wound him.

She struck.

Xuanfa's right hand moved faster than her eyes could track. He caught her sword blade between two fingers and stopped it dead. The shockwave cracked the jade plaza beneath their feet. Disciples screamed and covered their ears.

Then he twisted.

The sword shattered. Not broke. Shattered, into a thousand pieces that rained down like silver tears. Shen Mengyue stared at the broken hilt in her hands, unable to comprehend what had just happened. Her sword. Her bonded sword. Destroyed as easily as a child breaking a twig.

"Seventy percent," Xuanfa said quietly. "That is how much of my strength I used against you."

He had beaten her with seventy percent of his power.

Shen Mengyue's legs gave out. She fell to her knees, then forward onto her hands, her body refusing to support her any longer. The backlash of having her sword destroyed had damaged her meridians, and she could feel her cultivation base trembling on the edge of collapse. Blood dripped from her lips onto the broken jade.

Around them, the disciples of the Immortal Cloud Sect stood frozen in horror. Their sect leader, the invincible Shen Mengyue, lay defeated at the feet of the Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable.

Xuanfa walked toward her. His footsteps were measured, deliberate, each one bringing him closer to her prone form. Shen Mengyue tried to push herself up, to stand, to fight, but her arms would not obey. She could only watch as his black boots stopped before her face.

She looked up, and for the first time in three centuries, fear touched her heart.

Shen Mengyue looked up at him, her vision blurring. His face revealed no triumph, no anger, no anything. He could have been a statue carved from the finest cold jade, beautiful and utterly inhuman. And yet, when he looked down at her—her robes torn from the battle, her hair disheveled, her pale skin exposed at the shoulder—something flickered in his eyes.

Her heart seized. She knew that look.

"Please," she said, the word tasting like ash. "Not this. Spare my disciples. Punish me alone."

Xuanfa's hand reached down. His fingers, the ones that had shattered her sword, closed around her collar. With a single tug, he tore her Daoist robes open from neck to waist.

Fifteen years in the Profound Heaven Realm. Fifteen years of the same cycle—cultivation, spanking, healing, cultivation, spanking, healing. Li Que had long since stopped counting the strokes of the celestial wood board. She knew the rhythm of it, the weight of it, the exact moment when the wood would meet her flesh and split the silence of the Phoenix Punishment Sect.

She and Lin Qiaoxin had become creatures of routine. Every morning they knelt before Xuanfa, their naked bodies pressed to the cold stone floor of the training hall. Every morning they raised their buttocks high, presenting the rounded curves that had been beaten, healed, and beaten again so many times that Li Que sometimes wondered if her skin had grown thicker, or if she had simply become numb.

But she wasn't numb. Not truly. The pain still came, sharp and bright as a blade, cutting through her consciousness and leaving her gasping. It was just that she had learned to accept it, to ride the waves of agony like a ship riding a storm.

Today was no different. The morning light filtered through the high windows of the hall, casting long shadows across the smooth stone floor. Li Que knelt beside Lin Qiaoxin, their shoulders almost touching. The twin-tailed woman was humming softly, a tuneless melody that seemed to come from somewhere deep in her throat. It was the sound she always made before punishment—a gentle, almost cheerful noise that belied the terror of what was to come.

Xuanfa stood before them, his black training clothes immaculate, his face a mask of cold indifference. His fingers twitched slightly at his sides, and Li Que knew he was summoning the celestial wood board. She had grown attuned to the tiny movements of his body, the subtle shifts that preceded each blow.

"Shen Mengyue will join you today," Xuanfa said, his voice flat and without emotion. "She has been... recalcitrant."

Li Que felt a flicker of something that might have been sympathy, but she crushed it. There was no room for sympathy in the world Xuanfa had built. Only pain and endurance.

The celestial wood board materialized in the air before them, a slab of dark wood that pulsed with faint spiritual energy. It was longer than a forearm, wider than a hand, and smooth as polished glass. Li Que knew every grain of it, every whorl in the wood that would press into her flesh.

"Positions," Xuanfa commanded.

Li Que obeyed without hesitation. She bent forward, her upper body pressing against the cold stone, her arms stretched out before her. She raised her hips, presenting her buttocks high and open, the twin curves of her flesh gleaming in the morning light. Beside her, Lin Qiaoxin adopted the same pose, her smaller frame trembling slightly.

"I have a question," Li Que said, her voice muffled against the stone.

Xuanfa paused. "Speak."

"What do you like most?"

The silence stretched between them. Li Que could hear her own heartbeat, the soft rustle of Lin Qiaoxin's breath. Xuanfa's eyes, dark and unreadable, fixed on her.

"I like most seeing female cultivators being spanked and tortured," he said finally. "The pain they suffer makes me mentally and cultivation-wise stronger."

Lin Qiaoxin shifted beside Li Que, her body tensing. "Then we have an opportunity," she said, her voice carrying its usual lightness, though there was an edge beneath it. "The cultivation world knows that Shen Mengyue was stripped and knelt in the Immortal Cloud Sect hall. But they don't know about us. They don't know that Lin Qiaoxin, the formation genius, and Li Que, the vice leader of the Vermilion Bird Sect, have become your female slaves."

Li Que lifted her head slightly, meeting Xuanfa's gaze. "Let us crawl naked like female dogs to the highest platform in Wuling City. Let Shen Mengyue's disciples lead her with a dog leash to the same platform. The three of us will kneel in a row, our upper bodies bent, our buttocks raised high. You will summon the celestial wood board to spank us automatically. You will smash our buttocks completely—to the point where even cultivators need a week to recover. Then you will spread our legs and whip our buttock crevices with a whip until our anus and vagina are swollen. Then you will insert hooks into our red and swollen anuses and hang us for a week as a public display."

Xuanfa's expression did not change, but Li Que saw something flicker in his eyes—a spark of interest, perhaps, or amusement. It was the closest thing to emotion he ever showed.

"An interesting proposal," he said. "I will consider it."

Then his tone shifted. "But first, I want to play some new punishment."

Li Que felt a chill run down her spine. She had learned to recognize that shift in his voice, the subtle hardening that preceded something new and terrible.

"Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que. Kneel on the ground. Raise your buttocks. Spread your own anuses."

They obeyed without hesitation. Li Que knelt, her knees pressing into the cold stone, and reached back with both hands. Her fingers found the sensitive skin of her buttock crevice—the site of so many punishments, so many beatings—and pulled. She spread her cheeks wide, exposing her anus to the air, to Xuanfa's gaze.

Beside her, Lin Qiaoxin did the same. The twin-tailed woman's body was trembling, but she did not resist. She had learned long ago that resistance only made things worse.

Xuanfa approached, a small ceramic jar in his hand. He uncorked it, and the sharp, pungent smell of ginger filled the air. Li Que's nostrils flared. Ginger. Not ordinary ginger—magical ginger, she realized. The kind that grew only in the deepest parts of the demon realms, infused with spiritual energy that burned like fire.

"This is ginger juice," Xuanfa said, his voice calm and clinical. "I am going to pour it into your intestines. It will burn. You will want to scream, to writhe, to lose control. But you will not. If you lose control and spray intestinal fluid during the beating, the punishment will be doubled. Do you understand?"

"Yes, master," Li Que said, her voice steady.

"Yes, master," Lin Qiaoxin echoed.

The first pour struck Li Que's anus like a spear of fire. The ginger juice was thick, viscous, and terribly hot. It flowed into her intestinal tract, coating the sensitive lining, and she felt as if a red-hot iron rod had been inserted into her body. The heat spread through her abdomen, licking at her organs, and she bit down on her lip to keep from screaming.

Beside her, Lin Qiaoxin let out a choked sob. The twin-tailed woman's body was convulsing, her hands still spread on her anus, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Hold," Xuanfa commanded.

Li Que focused her mind, drawing on the discipline of a thousand punishments. She closed her eyes, meditating on the pain, letting it wash through her like a river of fire. She would not lose control. She would not give him the satisfaction.

But the ginger juice was relentless. It filled her, expanded within her, pressed against the boundaries of her body. She could feel it pooling deep in her intestines, a pool of liquid fire that seemed to grow hotter with each passing moment.

Then Xuanfa stepped back. "The daily two hundred strokes of the celestial wood board begins now. Do not lose control."

The board descended.

The first stroke struck Li Que's right buttock, and the pain was a white-hot explosion that drove all thought from her mind. The ginger juice inside her seemed to vibrate with the impact, sending waves of burning agony through her abdomen. She gasped, her hands gripping the stone floor, and fought to keep from releasing the juice.

The second stroke hit her left buttock, and the heat inside her intensified. She could feel her body straining, the pressure building. Her anus clenched, trying to hold back the flood, but the ginger juice was too thick, too hot, too insistent.

Third stroke. Fourth. Fifth.

By the tenth stroke, Li Que's body was screaming. The ginger juice was churning inside her, a cauldron of liquid fire that demanded release. She could feel her intestinal walls spasming, the muscles clenching and unclenching in a desperate rhythm.

"I can't," she heard Lin Qiaoxin whisper, and then the twin-tailed woman's body convulsed violently. A stream of ginger juice sprayed from her anus, staining the stone floor with a cloud of burning liquid.

Xuanfa's board paused. "Failed," he said, his voice flat. "Doubled punishment. Four hundred strokes for you, Lin Qiaoxin."

Li Que gritted her teeth. She focused on her breathing, on the rhythm of the strokes. Twelve. Thirteen. Fourteen. Each impact sent a shockwave through her body, and each shockwave pressed against the ginger juice inside her.

Fifteenth stroke. The pressure burst.

The ginger juice erupted from Li Que's anus in a violent spray, splattering across the floor. The burning liquid coated her thighs, her buttocks, her anus, and she felt a wave of shame wash over her. She had failed. She had lost control.

"Failed," Xuanfa said, and there was no judgment in his voice, only fact. "Doubled punishment for you as well, Li Que. Four hundred strokes."

The celestial wood board began to fall again, faster now, harder. The pain was a constant, unending torrent. Li Que lost count after the first hundred. She lost sense of time, of space, of everything except the burning agony that consumed her.

The ginger juice inside her had been mostly expelled, but the residual heat lingered. With each stroke, the pain seemed to intensify, the burn spreading through her body like wildfire. She could hear Lin Qiaoxin screaming beside her, broken cries that dissolved into sobs.

Two hundred strokes. Three hundred. Four hundred.

By the end, Li Que's buttocks were unrecognizable. The skin had torn, the flesh mashed into a pulpy red mass that wept blood and fluid. She lay on the floor, her body twitching, unable to rise. Beside her, Lin Qiaoxin was curled into a ball, her face buried in her arms, her shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

Xuanfa stood over them, looking down with cold indifference. "We will begin the plan tomorrow," he said. "The highest platform in Wuling City. I will send word to the Immortal Cloud Sect to bring Shen Mengyue."

He turned and walked away, his footsteps echoing in the silent hall.

Li Que lay on the cold stone, her body broken, her spirit battered. But deep in the core of her being, a fire still burned. She had endured. She had suffered. And tomorrow, she would raise her buttocks to the sky and let the entire cultivation world see what she had become.

And she would do it all over again.

The morning sun cast long shadows through the dusty streets of Wuling City as Xuanfa strode forward, a leash in each hand. On his right, Lin Qiaoxin crawled on all fours, her bare skin gleaming under the light, her twin tails bouncing with each step. On his left, Li Que moved with the same obedient gait, her red ponytail swaying, her athletic form completely exposed. Neither woman wore a stitch of cloth. Their buttocks, still bearing the vivid red marks of previous punishments, drew every eye in the marketplace.

Merchants stopped mid-haggle. Children were hurried away by their mothers. Cultivators from half a dozen sects stood frozen, their jaws slack. The whispers began as a murmur and swelled into a roar.

"Is that the Vermilion Bird Sect's vice leader? Crawling like a dog?"

"And Lin Qiaoxin—the formation prodigy! Look at her, not even a scrap of dignity left."

"Who is that man? What realm is he?"

Xuanfa paid them no heed. His expression remained flat, his black training clothes immaculate, his hands steady on the leashes. He tugged gently, and both women quickened their crawl, their knees scraping against the cobblestones. Lin Qiaoxin's face was serene, almost cheerful, but inside her bowels churned with the ginger juice Xuanfa had administered before they set out. The sharp, fiery liquid coiled in her intestines, sending waves of burning pain through her abdomen. She gritted her teeth and kept her smile.

Li Que's experience was identical. The ginger burned like a living flame, twisting and stabbing with every movement. She focused on the ground before her, on the rhythm of her crawling, on the knowledge that this was her master's will. She had chosen this. She would not falter.

From a side alley, another figure emerged. It was Yao, Shen Mengyue's eldest disciple, a young woman in the gray robes of the Immortal Cloud Sect. In her hand she held a leash identical to Xuanfa's, and at the other end of that leash, crawling on hands and knees, was Shen Mengyue herself.

The crowd's noise doubled.

The leader of the Immortal Cloud Sect, a Nascent Soul Middle Stage cultivator renowned across the cultivation world for her grace and power, crawled naked through the filth of Wuling City. Her black hair trailed behind her, tangled with dust. Her fair skin was smudged with dirt. Her breasts swung freely beneath her, and the reddened condition of her buttocks was visible to all.

Shen Mengyue's face was a mask of frozen composure, but behind her eyes, a storm raged. *This is worse than death. Every stone I crawl over, every pair of eyes that watches, every whisper—they carve a new wound into my soul. My sect will never recover from this. My name will be a curse, a joke, a cautionary tale for generations. And I cannot even die, because he would simply resurrect me and do it again.*

Her hands trembled as she placed them on the ground and pushed forward. The ginger in her bowels—she had not escaped that treatment either—made every movement a fresh agony. She bit the inside of her cheek until she tasted blood.

Yao's face was streaked with tears, but she did not dare disobey. Xuanfa had made the terms clear: lead her master through the city in this manner, or the sect would be annihilated. So she pulled the leash, step by step, toward the wooden platform erected in the central square.

The three women converged at the base of the platform. Xuanfa climbed the steps and turned to face the crowd, which had grown to several thousand. He raised a hand, and silence fell.

"Today," he said, his voice carrying effortlessly, "you will witness the punishment of those who dared to defy the Phoenix Punishment Sect. These three women—Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue—are mine. They are my female slaves, bound by oath and by pain. And now, they will be bound by shame as well."

He gestured. Lin Qiaoxin crawled up the steps, her ginger-ravaged guts screaming, and positioned herself on the platform. Li Que followed. Yao led Shen Mengyue up last, then stepped back, still weeping.

Xuanfa pointed to three spots on the platform. "Kneel. Bend forward. Raise your buttocks high."

Lin Qiaoxin obeyed instantly, her knees apart, her upper body flat against the wooden planks, her plump rear lifted to the sky. Li Que matched her posture, her athletic hips raised, the marks of previous spankings vivid against her skin. Shen Mengyue hesitated for a fraction of a second, then complied, her face burning with shame as she presented her most private area to the entire city.

Xuanfa raised his right hand and summoned a celestial wood board from his storage ring. It was a flat, wide plank of some ancient, petrified wood, smooth and dark, etched with formations that would amplify each strike. He infused it with a thread of his Nascent Soul Great Perfection power and set it to hover before him.

"This board will spank you," he announced. "One hundred strokes each. I want your buttocks completely smashed. I want the flesh to be pulp, the bones to ache, and the recovery to take no less than a week. You will not cry out. You will not shield yourselves. You will accept your punishment."

The board flew to Lin Qiaoxin first. It drew back and struck.

*WHAP!*

The sound was sharp, wet, and deep. Lin Qiaoxin's entire body jolted forward, but she locked her arms and kept her position. The board struck again, and again, each blow landing precisely on the same spot, compressing the flesh, splitting the skin, bruising the muscle beneath. After ten strokes, her left cheek was a mess of red and purple, with thin lines of blood weeping from the cracks. The board shifted to her right cheek and repeated the process.

Lin Qiaoxin's thoughts were a haze of pain and exhilaration. *Master is so thorough. He's breaking me completely, and I love it. Every strike brings me closer to being his perfect slave. I can feel the ginger in my guts, the board on my ass, his eyes on my body—I've never felt so owned.*

*WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!*

At thirty strokes, both cheeks were unrecognizable, the skin split in a dozen places, the underlying tissue swollen to twice its normal thickness. At fifty, she could no longer feel the individual strikes—only a vast, encompassing fire that had consumed her entire lower body. At seventy, she began to tremble, her vision swimming, but she did not cry out. At one hundred, the board stopped. Her buttocks were a single, pulpy mass of raw meat, the anus and vagina both swollen shut from the swelling of the surrounding flesh.

The board moved to Li Que.

She welcomed it with a fierce grin. *This is what I signed up for. I told him I would submit only to the strong, and he is strong. Every blow proves it. I want my ass destroyed. I want to be humiliated beyond repair. Then I will be truly his.*

*WHAP!*

The first strike landed like a thunderclap. Li Que's muscles clenched, but she forced them to relax. The ginger in her bowels flared, and she welcomed that pain too. The board struck again and again, rhythmic and merciless. Her skin tore faster than Lin Qiaoxin's, her athletic build less padded, and by forty strokes the bone of her coccyx was visible through the shredded tissue. Blood dripped onto the platform. The crowd gasped.

*WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!*

At sixty strokes, her left buttock was nearly gone, reduced to tattered flaps of skin over a ruin of muscle. At eighty, the right followed. At one hundred, she was a mess of gore from the small of her back to her thighs. Yet she remained bent forward, her hands flat, her breathing steady.

The board turned to Shen Mengyue.

She stared at the blood-soaked wood, then at the damage it had done to those two proud women. She thought of her sect. She thought of her dignity. She thought of Xuanfa's face, utterly indifferent, watching her like she was a piece of meat.

*I am a piece of meat. That is what he has reduced me to.*

The board struck.

*WHAP!*

The pain was beyond anything she had imagined. It was not a spanking; it was a demolition. Her flesh compressed, split, and shattered under the force of the blow. She bit her lip so hard she drew blood, but she did not scream. She would not give him that satisfaction.

*WHAP! WHAP!*

The second and third strokes landed on the same spot, and she felt her skin part, the fat beneath exposed. The crowd's murmurs grew louder. Some were horrified. Some were aroused. Some simply stared in numb disbelief.

*WHAP! WHAP! WHAP!*

By stroke twenty, her pristine white buttocks were a ruin of red and black, the bruises already forming beneath the broken skin. By stroke forty, she was weeping silently, her tears splashing onto the wood of the platform. By stroke sixty, her lower body was a single, undifferentiated mass of pain. She could no longer feel individual blows—only the constant, roaring fire.

At stroke one hundred, she collapsed forward, her body shaking, her breath coming in ragged gasps. Her buttocks were as pulp, just as Xuanfa had ordered, the flesh so damaged that it would require a full week of healing before she could even walk.

Xuanfa walked slowly around the three women, inspecting his work. He nodded once.

"Now," he said, "the second part of your punishment."

He produced a whip—long, thin, made of some dark leather woven with spiritual threads. It was not a spanking implement. It was a torture instrument.

"Spread your legs," he commanded.

Lin Qiaoxin immediately shifted her knees apart, opening her thighs wide, exposing the ruins of her anus and vagina to the air. Li Que did the same, her movements mechanical, her mind still floating on a cloud of endorphins. Shen Mengyue hesitated, but a single glance from Xuanfa made her comply. She spread her legs, her private parts fully visible to the crowd.

Xuanfa snapped the whip. It coiled in the air and struck directly into the crevice between Shen Mengyue's buttocks, lashing across her anus and the lips of her vagina.

She screamed.

It was a raw, involuntary sound, torn from her throat by the sheer, burning sting. The whip had not struck the padded flesh of her cheeks; it had struck the most sensitive tissue of her body, where the skin was thin and the nerves dense.

Xuanfa struck again. And again. He delivered ten strokes to each of them, alternating between the three women, making sure each lash landed precisely on the anus or the vagina, splitting the delicate skin, raising welts that swelled immediately. Lin Qiaoxin moaned through the pain, her body trembling with a mixture of agony and pleasure. Li Que grunted and took it, her pride refusing to let her show weakness. Shen Mengyue wept openly, her cries filling the square.

When the whipping was done, all three women had swollen, reddened anuses and vaginas, the tissue puffy and split in places, weeping blood and clear fluids. Their intimate parts were unrecognizable, distorted by the trauma.

Xuanfa put away the whip and drew three hooks from his storage ring. They were curved, polished, each one the length of a hand, with a ring at the blunt end for attaching chains.

"Last part," he said. "You will be hung by these hooks, inserted into your anuses, for one week. You will hang here, in the center of Wuling City, as a public display. Anyone may come and look. Anyone may mock. You will not be taken down until the week is done."

He knelt before Lin Qiaoxin first. She looked at him with adoring eyes, her body a wreck, her spirit somehow buoyant. *Master is so kind. He's giving me a way to serve him even more.*

Xuanfa pressed the hook against her swollen anus. She tensed, then forced herself to relax. The sharp point pierced the inflamed tissue, sliding inside with a wet, tearing sound. She gasped, her eyes wide, but she did not cry out. The hook seated itself, the ring protruding from her body.

He attached a chain to the ring and hoisted her up. The chain went to a beam above the platform, and Lin Qiaoxin was lifted into the air, dangling by her anus, her entire weight suspended from that single, agonizing point. S

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The week of hanging was an eternity carved in agony. The iron hook pierced through Shen Mengyue's anus, suspending her entire weight from that single point of violation. The physical pain was a constant fire, but far worse was the spiritual immolation—the knowledge that every citizen of Wuling City had witnessed her naked, spread, and utterly broken.

Each day, crowds gathered below the city walls. Merchants paused their trade. Children pointed and whispered. Cultivators from visiting sects stared with a mixture of shock and barely concealed lust. Shen Mengyue's face burned hotter than any spanking she had received. She was the leader of the Immortal Cloud Sect, a Nascent Soul Middle Stage master who had commanded respect across the cultivation world. Now she hung like meat in a market, her most private parts exposed to the vulgar gaze of commoners.

The hook chafed endlessly. Every involuntary shift sent fresh waves of torment through her bowels. She couldn't close her legs, couldn't hide her sex or her anus from the staring eyes below. Tears streamed silently down her cheeks, dripping onto the dust of Wuling City.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que hung beside her, their own hooks gleaming obscenely in the sunlight. But their demeanors could not have been more different. Lin Qiaoxin swung gently on her hook, humming a cheerful tune. Occasionally she would wave at the crowd, laughing when some young man blushed and looked away.

"Quite the audience today!" Lin Qiaoxin called out to Shen Mengyue. "I count at least three sect leaders in the front row. You're famous, Sect Leader Shen. The whole cultivation world knows your bare bottom now."

Shen Mengyue couldn't respond. Her throat was raw from screaming, and her pride had been ground to dust.

Li Que said nothing, but her crimson eyes held no shame. She hung with military stillness, accepting the punishment as she had accepted her capture. In her mind, she had been defeated fairly. Now she paid the price. That was the way of the strong.

"You two are so calm," Shen Mengyue finally managed, her voice cracked and hoarse. "How can you bear this humiliation?"

Lin Qiaoxin tilted her head. "Humiliation? Master is punishing us. That's what masters do to their female slaves. I accepted this when I chose to become his."

"I didn't choose!" Shen Mengyue's voice broke.

"You offended him," Li Que said flatly. "You knew the consequences. The Heavenly Venerable never makes empty threats."

Shen Mengyue had no answer. She remembered her own arrogance, her refusal to submit, her belief that her status as sect leader would protect her. How naive. How utterly foolish.

The sun rose and set seven times. On the eighth morning, as dawn painted the sky in shades of rose and gold, strong hands released the chains. The three women descended from their hooks, and Shen Mengyue collapsed to her knees, her legs too weak to support her. The iron hook slid from her body with a wet sound, and she felt the rush of air against her violated anus.

Xuanfa stood before them, his black training clothes immaculate, his handsome face utterly expressionless. He looked down at Shen Mengyue's trembling form with the cold curiosity of a man examining an insect.

"The week is complete," he said. "I hope this time has given you ample opportunity to reflect on your position."

Shen Mengyue pressed her forehead to the ground. "Heavenly Venerable, please... please show mercy. My punishment... the spanking I received before, that was for offending you. I have learned my lesson. I beg you, do not make me your female slave."

Xuanfa's eyebrow rose a fraction. "You still resist?"

"I am the leader of the Immortal Cloud Sect!" Shen Mengyue's voice cracked with desperation. "I cannot abandon my sect, my disciples! If I become your slave, what will become of them? Please, Heavenly Venerable, I will do anything else, pay any price, but let me keep my dignity as sect leader!"

Xuanfa's lips curved into a cold smile. "Dignity. You speak of dignity while kneeling naked before me, your anus still gaping from a week on the hook. Your dignity was forfeit the moment you challenged me."

He stepped closer, his shadow falling over her. "I will make this simple, Shen Mengyue. Enter the Profound Heaven Realm voluntarily. Become my female slave. I will protect the Immortal Cloud Sect and harm none of your disciples. Refuse, and I will destroy your sect entirely, then take you anyway."

Shen Mengyue's breath caught. Destroy the Immortal Cloud Sect. He could do it. She knew he could. No one in the cultivation world could challenge the Punishment Heavenly Venerable and win.

"Stubborn," Xuanfa snorted.

He gestured, and Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que immediately moved to flank Shen Mengyue. Their hands, still slick with residual ginger juice from their own punishments, grabbed her shoulders and forced her to kneel.

"Open her," Xuanfa commanded.

Shen Mengyue screamed as hands pried apart her buttocks, exposing her sore, stretched anus to the morning air. She struggled, but Lin Qiaoxin's grip was surprisingly strong, and Li Que's arms were like iron bands.

"What are you doing?! Stop!"

Xuanfa produced a clay jar. Even from a distance, Shen Mengyue could smell the sharp, burning scent of ginger juice. Her eyes widened in horror.

"Since you refuse wisdom through your ears, perhaps you will learn through your bowels."

He unstoppered the jar and brought it to her anus. The first pour was a shock—cold liquid against her hot, abused flesh. Then the burning began.

Shen Mengyue screamed as ginger juice flooded her intestines. It was nothing like the spankings she had endured. This was an internal fire, a chemical burn that seemed to spread through her entire abdomen. Her body convulsed, trying to expel the irritant, but an invisible force held her in place.

"No! Stop! Please stop!"

Xuanfa poured more. "You will kneel properly. Present your buttocks to me."

An invisible power forced Shen Mengyue's body into position—knees spread, chest flat on the ground, buttocks raised high and exposed. No matter how she struggled, her body obeyed the command.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que each received a celestial wood board from Xuanfa's storage ring. The boards were dark, polished wood that seemed to drink the light, and they were covered in small raised characters—cultivation scriptures that would leave their marks on Shen Mengyue's flesh.

"Fifty strikes each," Xuanfa said. "And for every strike, Shen Mengyue will say: 'Thank you, Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable, for spanking me.' If she fails to speak, pour more ginger juice into her."

Lin Qiaoxin's eyes lit up with sadistic glee. "Finally! I've been waiting to spank someone else for once!"

Li Que said nothing, but she raised her board with professional precision.

The first strike fell from Lin Qiaoxin's hand. The celestial wood board connected with Shen Mengyue's right buttock with a sound like thunder. The raised scriptures bit into her flesh, leaving behind characters that glowed briefly before sinking into her skin.

"Aaagh! Thank you, Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable, for spanking me!" Shen Mengyue's voice was choked with pain and shame.

Li Que's strike fell on the left buttock, perfectly symmetrical. "Thank you, Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable, for spanking me!"

Strike after strike rained down. Shen Mengyue's buttocks became a canvas of glowing scripture marks, each one a permanent record of her submission. The ginger juice burned in her bowels, and each impact sent shockwaves through her intestines, making the chemical fire surge.

"Thank you, Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable, for spanking me!"

"Thank you, Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable, for spanking me!"

Lin Qiaoxin giggled as she swung. "You took two hundred strikes of my formation array that day, Sect Leader Shen! How does it feel to be on the other end of the board?"

Shen Mengyue couldn't answer. The pain was overwhelming. Her buttocks were transforming from red to purple to black, and the scripture marks were spreading, climbing from her cheeks to her lower back, wrapping around her hips.

At the fortieth strike, her voice failed. She gasped, unable to form the words.

Xuanfa's voice was ice. "More ginger juice."

Hands spread her anus again, and more burning liquid flooded her system. Shen Mengyue screamed as the fire doubled, tripled, became unbearable.

"Thank you, Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable, for spanking me!" she sobbed.

The strikes continued. She lost count. Her entire world narrowed to the rhythm of the boards, the burning in her bowels, the shameful words she was forced to repeat.

At the fiftieth strike from each, Shen Mengyue's resistance finally broke. Tears and snot covered her face. Her abused buttocks were a ruin of black bruises and glowing scriptures. The ginger juice had spread through her entire digestive tract, making every breath a trial.

"I submit!" she wailed. "I submit! I will become your female slave! Just please, please stop the punishment!"

Xuanfa raised his hand, and the boards stopped. The silence was broken only by Shen Mengyue's shuddering sobs.

"Say it clearly," he commanded.

Shen Mengyue pressed her forehead to the ground. "I, Shen Mengyue, leader of the Immortal Cloud Sect, voluntarily submit to become the female slave of Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable. I ask only that he protect my sect and harm none of my disciples."

"Agreed," Xuanfa said without hesitation. "The Immortal Cloud Sect will be under my protection. No one will dare harm them."

Before Shen Mengyue could respond, she felt the world twist. Space folded around her, and she was pulled into darkness. When she opened her eyes, she was in a vast realm of glowing mountains and eternal twilight—the Profound Heaven Realm.

Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que appeared beside her. And around Shen Mengyue's neck, a slave collar materialized. It was identical to theirs—dark metal that pulsed with Xuanfa's spiritual energy, cold against her skin, unbreakable.

She was bound now. Truly bound, body and soul.

Xuanfa appeared before them, seated on a throne of black jade that rose from the ground. "You know the rules of the Profound Heaven Realm, Shen Mengyue. Every female slave receives her welcome. You will receive two hundred strikes of the celestial wood board. After that, you will kneel before me and swear your oath."

Shen Mengyue's ruined buttocks throbbed. Two hundred more strikes. But she had already surrendered. There was no going back.

She positioned herself without being told. Knees spread. Chest flat. Buttocks raised. But this time, she did it willingly, her body moving into the familiar position with a grace that surprised even her.

Xuanfa rose from his throne and took the celestial wood board from Li Que's hand. The board was warm from use, almost alive in his grip. He walked behind Shen Mengyue and examined her buttocks—a canvas of pain and scripture marks, purple and black and glowing gold.

"Remember this," he said. "Every strike that falls upon your flesh is a gift. Through punishment, you become perfect. Through submission, you achieve freedom."

The first strike cracked like lightning.

Shen Mengyue's body jerked, but she held position. "Thank you, Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable, for spanking me!" Her voice was strong despite the tears.

The second strike fell, perfectly aligned with the first. The scripture marks on her buttocks flared with light, and Shen Mengyue felt the characters searing themselves deeper into her skin.

"Thank you, Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable, for spanking me!"

Xuanfa was relentless. Each strike was precise, powerful, and perfectly placed. He built a rhythm—strike, pause, strike—that allowed the pain to fully register before the next blow landed. He struck the same spots repeatedly, building layer upon layer of punishment.

Shen Mengyue's buttocks transformed under his hand. The black bruises split, weeping blood that mixed with residual ginger juice. The scripture marks spread across her entire lower body, covering her thighs,

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A hundred years had passed in the Profound Heaven Realm, and the hall of punishment had changed little. The same dark stone walls, the same gleaming celestial wood boards stacked neatly in racks, the same faint scent of ginger and medicinal herbs lingering in the air. But the scene before the high platform was vastly different from those early days.

A row of thirty white, plump buttocks was raised high in the air. The women knelt in perfect alignment, foreheads pressed to the cold stone floor, arms extended forward, hands flat. Their buttocks were propped up, presenting themselves without any veil of modesty. These were not ordinary women. They were sect leaders, elders of great clans, prodigious rogue cultivators who had dominated entire regions. Daughters of aristocratic families who had never known a moment of disgrace in their lives. Now they knelt in complete nudity, their bottoms raised high, awaiting the celestial wood.

Behind this row stood three naked figures, each a vision of perfected beauty through long years of discipline and punishment. Their bodies bore no marks, no scars—only a faint, healthy flush that spoke of rigorous training and absolute submission.

The first was Lin Qiaoxin. Her black twin tails had grown longer over the century, now cascading past her shoulders in silken waves. Her face retained its youthful, almost mischievous charm, but her eyes held a depth of knowing that only a hundred years of servitude could bring. Her body was slim and perfectly proportioned, her breasts small but firm, her waist narrow, her hips curving outward in a gentle flare. Her skin was pale as moonlight, unblemished. She stood with an easy grace, as if this were the most natural posture in the world.

Beside her stood Li Que. Taller, more athletic, her red hair still tied in a high ponytail that swung with every movement. Her limbs were long and muscular, her shoulders broad for a woman, her waist taut with defined abs. Her buttocks were round and firm, slightly larger than Lin Qiaoxin's, a testament to her warrior’s build. Her face was proud, but softened now with a quiet contentment. She held herself like a general reviewing troops, but her eyes were soft when they fell on the kneeling women.

And in the center stood Shen Mengyue. The leader of the Immortal Cloud Sect, once the epitome of cold and gentle authority, now stood nude before the new slaves. Her waist-length black hair fell like a curtain down her back, partly obscuring the gentle curve of her spine. Her body was a blend of ethereal purity and mature allure. Her breasts were full and heavy, her waist slender, her hips wide and voluptuous. Her buttocks, even in this relaxed stance, were a perfect round shape, full and soft, with a faint purple undertone that never quite faded. Her skin was impossibly fair, almost luminous. Her face was serene, her eyes kind but firm.

The three women moved among the kneeling slaves, their voices calm and instructive.

"Higher," Lin Qiaoxin said, tapping a plump buttock with her finger. "You, the third from the left. Your hips are sagging. Lift them as if you’re offering them to the sky."

"Yes, Heart Slave," the woman whispered, adjusting her posture.

"Relax your muscles," Li Que added, her voice a low command. "If you clench, the celestial wood will bite deeper. You want to receive the punishment, not fight it. Think of it as... a purification."

"Yes, Que Slave," another woman murmured.

Shen Mengyue walked slowly behind the row, her hand brushing across the raised buttocks as if checking their readiness. "Remember, the master’s punishment is a gift. Through pain, we find clarity. Through submission, we find freedom. You will learn to welcome each strike."

"Yes, Moon Slave," came the unified whisper.

The new slaves trembled, some weeping silently, others biting their lips. But none dared disobey. They had all felt the celestial wood once already, on the day of their capture. They knew what awaited.

Suddenly, the air in the hall shifted. A presence descended, heavy and absolute. Every slave’s breath caught. The three women at the back turned as one, their movements fluid and practiced.

Xuanfa stood at the entrance, his black training clothes immaculate, his face indifferent and handsome. His eyes swept the room, cold and assessing.

In an instant, the three women dropped to their knees. Their movements were synchronized, honed by a hundred years of repetition: they lowered their heads, placed their foreheads on their folded hands, then raised their buttocks high in the air. Their plump, rounded bottoms gleamed under the torchlight, their anuses visible, their labia slightly parted from the position. The purple-red swelling of their buttocks was a testament to countless punishments endured.

"Master," the three said in unison, their voices clear and respectful. "We are instructing the new sisters. Is master here to watch Heart Slave/Que Slave/Moon Slave’s punishment? Rest assured, we will try our best to endure to the end and not spoil master’s fun."

Xuanfa nodded once, a slight inclination of his head.

The three women did not hesitate. They reached behind themselves with both hands, fingers finding their anuses. With practiced ease, they spread themselves open, the pink interiors of their sphincters exposed to the air.

Above them, the air shimmered. Three syringes appeared, filled with a thick, pungent ginger juice. They descended, their nozzles pressing against the spread anuses. The women did not flinch. The nozzles slid in, slowly at first, then deeper. The ginger juice was cold, then burning. It filled their bowels with a fiery heat that spread through their lower bellies. The three women breathed deeply, their muscles clenching and relaxing, allowing the liquid to settle.

When the syringes withdrew, the three remained in position, anuses still spread, ginger juice held within.

Their realms had grown. They were now Nascent Soul Middle Stage Perfection, one step from Nascent Soul Later Stage. And with that growth came a higher number of strikes. Three hundred each.

Above them, six celestial wood boards materialized. They were wide, thick planks of dark wood, polished smooth by years of use. They hovered in pairs, one pair on each side of each woman’s raised buttocks.

The first strike came without warning.

*CRACK!*

The sound was like thunder. The right board slammed into Lin Qiaoxin’s right buttock, and her flesh rippled from the impact. A sharp red mark appeared instantly.

*CRACK!*

The left board struck her left buttock, symmetrical, perfect.

*CRACK! CRACK!*

Li Que received her first two strikes. Her athletic buttocks bounced, the muscles underneath tensing and releasing.

*CRACK! CRACK!*

Shen Mengyue’s full buttocks absorbed the blows, her flesh quivering.

The three women let out screams—painful, yet laced with something else. A tinge of pleasure, of release. Their bodies knew this rhythm. Their minds were conditioned to accept it.

*CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!*

The boards fell in a relentless cadence. Each strike was precise, delivered with the same force, the same angle. The celestial wood was unforgiving. Even Nascent Soul Middle Stage Perfection could only barely withstand it.

Lin Qiaoxin’s slim buttocks turned from pale to pink to red. The marks overlapped, creating a mosaic of crimson. Her twin tails bounced with each impact. Her eyes were squeezed shut, her mouth open, letting out cries that were half sob, half moan.

"Ah! Ah!... Yes!... Harder!... No, no, I mean—AH!"

Li Que gritted her teeth, her warrior’s pride keeping her from screaming too loudly. But the boards were relentless. They pummeled her firm buttocks, turning them red, then darker. Her fingers dug into the floor. Her breath came in sharp hisses.

"Haah... haah... nineteen... twenty... twenty-one..."

She counted, but the numbers blurred.

Shen Mengyue’s full buttocks jiggled and wobbled with each strike. The flesh was so abundant that the boards sank deep before rebounding. Her moans were deeper, more resonant. Her head hung low, her black hair pooling on the floor.

"Thirty-four... thirty-five... ah... oh... master..."

The ginger juice churned inside them. The heat built, combining with the external punishment. Their lower bellies felt distended, burning. The urge to release was overwhelming, but they held. They had to hold. Spilling the ginger juice meant failure, meant starting over, meant displeasing their master.

*CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!*

The boards continued their dance. Fifty. Sixty. Seventy.

The new slaves watched from their positions, their own buttocks trembling in fear. They saw the dedication, the pain, the ecstasy on the three women’s faces. They saw the boards rise and fall, turning those beautiful buttocks into pulped, swollen masses of purple and red.

Eighty. Ninety. One hundred.

Lin Qiaoxin’s cries had become a continuous wail, her voice breaking. Her buttocks were no longer two separate globes but one unified mass of discolored flesh. The skin was stretched so tight it looked ready to split.

Li Que had stopped counting. Her pride was gone. She sobbed openly, her strong frame shaking with each blow. The boards pounded her without mercy, turning her athletic curves into tenderized meat.

Shen Mengyue’s moans were low and guttural, almost animalistic. Her body swayed, but she did not fall. Her buttocks were the largest, the most voluptuous, and they absorbed the most punishment. The boards left deep, angry welts that crisscrossed in a lattice of pain.

One hundred fifty. Two hundred.

The air was thick with the sound of wood impacting flesh, the cries of the punished, the scent of sweat and ginger and blood from tiny burst capillaries.

Two hundred fifty.

Lin Qiaoxin was babbling now, words lost in a sea of sensation. Her hands still held her anus spread, though her arms trembled violently.

Li Que’s head had sunk to the floor, her forehead resting on her hands. Her entire body quivered with each strike.

Shen Mengyue’s back was arched, her spine curved, her buttocks thrust out as if offering them to the boards. Her eyes were half-lidded, her lips parted. She was somewhere far away, in a realm of pure submission.

Two hundred ninety. Two hundred ninety-five.

The final strikes fell.

*CRACK!*

*CRACK!*

*CRACK!*

*CRACK!*

*CRACK!*

*CRACK!*

Three hundred.

The boards vanished.

Silence descended. The three women remained in position, their chests heaving, their bodies slick with sweat. The ginger juice burned inside them, but they held it. Not a drop had spilled.

Slowly, with agonizing care, they lowered their hands from their anuses. They kept their foreheads pressed to their hands. Their buttocks were a ruin of purple, red, and black. Swollen to twice their normal size. Bumpy with welts and ridges.

"Three hundred strikes completed," they said in unison, their voices hoarse but clear. "No ginger juice spilled. Is master satisfied?"

Xuanfa walked forward, his footsteps echoing in the hall. He stopped before each of the three women, looking down at their raised, ravaged buttocks. He studied the marks, the symmetry, the depth of the bruising. Then he nodded slightly.

Satisfaction. A rare thing from him.

The three women let out a collective sigh of relief. They remained kneeling, heads down, awaiting his next command.

But Xuanfa’s mind was elsewhere. He looked out over the row of thirty new slaves, their white buttocks still raised, still untouched. So many more high-level female cultivators remained in the world. Sect matriarchs. Daughters of ancient families. Fierce rogue cultivators. They had not yet tasted the celestial wood.

He looked forward to it. He looked forward to capturing them, tearing off their robes, binding their wrists, and laying the boards across their plump, innocent buttocks. He looked forward to their first screams, their tears, their eventual surrender.

And he looked forward to building something lasting. These f

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The spiritual mountain rose high into the clouds, its peak shrouded in mist that carried the dense richness of spiritual energy. Xuanfa stood at the summit, his black training clothes untouched by the wind, his indifferent gaze sweeping across the land below. With a flick of his fingers, formations carved themselves into the ground, stone halls rose from the earth, and a grand gate formed from celestial jade took shape. The Phoenix Punishment Sect was born.

Word spread quickly through the cultivation world. The sect recruited only female cultivators, and those who joined would find themselves under the tutelage of the female slave elders—Lin Qiaoxin, the Formation Grand Elder; Li Que, the Combat Grand Elder; and Shen Mengyue, the Internal Affairs Grand Elder. But the sect had no robes for its disciples. Every female cultivator who entered did so naked, exposed to the eyes of all, her body bare as she learned the ways of cultivation.

Some knew the truth behind the Phoenix Punishment Sect. It was a camp for selecting female slaves, a place where Xuanfa harvested those worthy of his discipline. Yet even knowing this, many female cultivators came willingly. The teachings of Nascent Soul elders were rare and precious, and the chance to advance in cultivation outweighed the shame of nudity. Or so they told themselves.

The distinction between disciple and elder was clear. Disciples were naked, their bodies exposed but unmarked. Female slave elders were utterly nude, slave collars encircling their necks, moving on hands and knees like female dogs. And their buttocks—purple-red, swollen, bruised from countless strokes of the celestial wood board—told the story of their submission. Only those who became Xuanfa's female slaves could rise to the rank of elder.

On this day, the sect hall was filled with disciples. They knelt in neat rows, their bare bodies pressed against the cool stone floor, eyes fixed ahead. At the entrance of the hall, Xuanfa stood with three dog leashes in hand. The leather straps led to Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue, all crawling on all fours behind him.

The disciples' breaths caught. The elders—their respected teachers—were on their hands and knees like common beasts.

Xuanfa's voice cut through the silence like a blade. "Heart Slave has made contributions in teaching formations. Moon Slave has excelled in managing the sect's affairs. Que Slave has defeated a provoker who dared to challenge our sect. For their merits, they shall be spanked publicly."

A murmur rippled through the disciples. This was the reward of the Phoenix Punishment Sect—a spanking in front of the assembly. To outsiders, it would be spiritual torture. But to the female slaves, it was cultivation. Enduring and accepting the master's humiliation and punishment was the duty of a slave. And some, like Li Que and Shen Mengyue, found twisted pleasure in it. Lin Qiaoxin, the most joyful of all, wished the entire world could witness her punishment.

Xuanfa tugged the leashes. The three elders crawled forward, stopping before the raised platform where the spanking would take place. But they were not alone.

Beside them, Xuanfa had already forced another woman to kneel. Murong Ying, leader of the Heavenly Phoenix Sect, Nascent Soul Middle Stage, had come to protest the Phoenix Punishment Sect's existence. She had been stripped naked, her proud body exposed to the crowd, and made to kneel with her hands on the ground. Her face burned with fury and humiliation.

"I will never submit to this indignity!" Murong Ying shouted, struggling against Xuanfa's grip. Her body writhed, but a forced technique held her in place.

Xuanfa ignored her. He raised his right hand, and four celestial wood boards materialized in the air, each as wide as an open palm, gleaming with a dark sheen. They hovered above the four raised buttocks, waiting.

"Shen Mengyue," Xuanfa said, his voice flat. "Explain the rules to our guests."

Shen Mengyue's voice was steady, though her body trembled with anticipation. "Disciples who wish to become female slaves must prove their cultivation, talent, and dedication. Only then may they apply to receive the master's discipline." She paused, her pale buttocks raised high in the air. "Being spanked in public is an honor reserved for those who have earned the master's favor."

"But you're screaming and crying!" a young disciple blurted out from the crowd.

Lin Qiaoxin laughed. "Of course we scream! It hurts like a hundred swords stabbing into your flesh at once! But we also kneel here willingly." She winked at the disciple. "If you cultivate hard enough, maybe one day you'll be kneeling right beside me."

The first board slammed down.

Shen Mengyue jerked forward, a sharp cry escaping her lips. The board connected with her upturned buttocks, the sound echoing through the hall like thunder. Her pale skin turned pink, then red, the mark of the board spreading across her flesh. She gripped the stone floor, her fingers white, but she did not move from her position.

"It hurts," she gasped, her voice strained. "Disciples, do not let this discourage you. The pain is fleeting, but the cultivation is eternal. One day, you too will experience this honor."

The second board struck Li Que's buttocks. She was taller than the others, her athletic frame taut with muscle, but the board found its mark squarely on both cheeks. She grunted, her red hair swaying as she absorbed the blow.

"Harder," she muttered, almost to herself. "This is nothing compared to the battles I've fought."

The third board caught Lin Qiaoxin. She yelped, then immediately burst into laughter. "Oh, that's a good one! Master, you're really giving it your all today! I love it!"

Her buttocks, already bruised from previous punishments, bounced with each strike. She looked over her shoulder at the disciples, a grin on her face. "Don't be scared, girls. This is the path of cultivation. Embrace the pain!"

Beside her, Murong Ying watched in horror. She had never seen anything like this. These women—these powerful, respected Nascent Soul cultivators—were being beaten like children, and they were laughing. It was madness.

The fourth board struck her.

Murong Ying screamed. It was not a cry of surprise but of pure, unadulterated agony. The celestial wood board had a sharp, searing sting that cut through her spiritual defenses like a blade through silk. Tears sprang to her eyes.

"Let me go!" she screamed, her body thrashing against the invisible restraints. "I'm the leader of the Heavenly Phoenix Sect! You can't do this to me!"

Li Que glanced at her, a smirk on her lips. "Your buttocks are not harder than the board. Give up struggling. It only makes it worse."

"You're insane!" Murong Ying sobbed. "All of you are insane!"

Lin Qiaoxin's next strike made her arch her back. She let out a long, drawn-out moan that sounded half pain, half pleasure. "Oh, but the view is wonderful from here. Look at the disciples' faces! Some of them are jealous, I swear!"

And indeed, some of the disciples stared with a mixture of horror and fascination. The elders, who had always seemed so composed and dignified in their lectures, were now screaming and crying on their hands and knees. But they were not running away. They were not even flinching. They kept their buttocks raised high, waiting for the next blow.

Shen Mengyue's voice was soft but clear even as tears streamed down her cheeks. "Do not be afraid, disciples. This is the price of power. The master's discipline tempers our spirit as fire tempers steel."

Xuanfa did not speak. He simply raised his hand, and the boards struck again. And again. And again.

Lin Qiaoxin's back arched so hard she nearly collapsed. "Master! Again! Please! I want the disciples to see how much I love being punished!"

Li Que's face was a mask of concentration, her teeth gritted. "Murong Ying, your screams are getting louder. Does that mean the board is winning?"

Murong Ying could no longer speak. Her words dissolved into incoherent wails. Her proud demeanor had cracked, replaced by raw, animalistic suffering.

"Please," she finally gasped. "Please stop."

The boards paused.

Xuanfa's voice was flat. "Do you submit?"

"I'll do anything," she sobbed. "Just stop."

Lin Qiaoxin's head swiveled toward the disciples, a wicked grin on her face despite the tears streaming down her cheeks. "See? Even the proudest fall. Cultivate hard, and one day you'll be kneeling here too!"

Shen Mengyue nodded through her pain. "Cultivate diligently, and one day you too may be spanked in public like this. It's the greatest honor the Phoenix Punishment Sect can bestow."

Li Que let out a low chuckle. "And you'll love it. Trust me."

The final strike came down.

Murong Ying's body went limp on the ground, her buttocks a bloody mess, her pride shattered. The three female slave elders remained kneeling, their bodies trembling but their postures perfect, their faces wet with tears.

Xuanfa turned away. "Hang her at the mountain gate."

Two disciples rushed forward, carrying a long, curved metal instrument—an anal hook. They forced Murong Ying onto her hands and knees, inserted the hook, and attached a chain. Then she was dragged to the mountain gate and hoisted into the air, suspended upside down, her battered buttocks pointed toward the sky, her body exposed for all who entered or left the sect to see.

Her muffled sobs echoed through the air as she hung there, a monument to the Phoenix Punishment Sect's discipline.

Lin Qiaoxin crawled to her position beside the gate, raising her still-swollen buttocks in the air. "I could get used to this," she said with a laugh. "Public spanking feels so much better than private!"

Li Que crawled beside her. "You just like showing off."

"Of course I do! Do you blame me?"

Shen Mengyue followed silently, her face serene despite the pain. She knelt, raised her buttocks, and waited for the disciples to pass.

Xuanfa stood at the entrance, watching the line of disciples climb the mountain. Some whispered, some stared, some looked away. But all understood the price of entering the Phoenix Punishment Sect.

And they kept climbing.

The Phoenix Punishment Sect had grown to a thousand disciples, a number that might seem meager for a sect with the power it now wielded. Yet the truth was simple: few female cultivators possessed the courage to surrender their dignity and their posteriors to join. Still, a thousand was a milestone, and Xuanfa decided it was time for a proper sect ceremony to cement their loyalty and discipline.

The morning of the ceremony dawned clear and cold. The disciples assembled in the vast training ground of the sect's main hall. All of them stood naked, their bodies exposed to the elements and to each other, as was the rule. The peripheral area was filled with these thousand women, their hands clasped behind their backs, their heads held high despite the shame. They had chosen this path, and they would endure.

At the center of the ground, a raised platform of black stone stood. The female slave elders, fifty in number, crawled in on their hands and knees, moving like obedient dogs. Their bodies were bare as well, their buttocks marked with the fading red welts of previous punishments. They formed a neat formation in the center of the platform, kneeling with their foreheads touching the stone, their hindquarters raised slightly in the posture of supplication.

Then came the three who held the highest status among all: Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue. Xuanfa led them by dog leashes attached to slave collars around their necks. The leashes were fine black chains that clinked softly as they moved. All three crawled on all fours, their nude bodies swaying with each movement. Lin Qiaoxin's twin tails bounced behind her, her youthful face carrying a hint of playful mischief even now. Li Que's athletic form moved with a controlled grace, her pride intact despite her posture. Shen Mengyue's waist-length black hair swept the ground, her expression serene and composed, as if this were the most natural thing in the world.

They crawled into the center of the platform and knelt beside Xuanfa. He released the leashes and stood before them, his black training clothes immaculate, his face expressionless. His eyes swept over the assembled disciples, then over the kneeling female slave elders, and finally rested on the three at his side.

Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue began the sect ceremony. They rose to their knees but kept their heads bowed. Normally, sects sacrificed to ancestors or sacred artifacts, but the Phoenix Punishment Sect had its own traditions. In the center of the platform, on a simple altar of white jade, lay a set of celestial wood boards. They were polished smooth by countless strikes, their wood dark and dense, bearing the residual aura of pain and submission.

Lin Qiaoxin spoke first, her voice carrying a hint of amusement despite the solemn occasion. "The Phoenix Punishment Sect was founded to correct the arrogance of female cultivators who thought themselves beyond discipline. The name 'Phoenix Punishment' derives from the legend of the phoenix, which must be consumed by flame to be reborn. So too must every female slave be consumed by the fire of punishment to be reborn in obedience."

Li Que continued, her voice proud but steady. "We are the foundation upon which this sect stands. We were the first to be broken, the first to learn that true strength lies in submission to a master worthy of it. Our duty as female slaves is to accept all humiliation and punishment from the master, no matter how shameful or painful, and to endure it obediently. We crawl like dogs, and we do not stand without the master's order. We salute the master by kneeling and raising our scarred buttocks high."

Shen Mengyue added, her voice calm and resonant. "To be a female slave of the Phoenix Punishment Sect is to embrace the path of total surrender. There is no dignity we keep, no boundary we set. The master's will is our law, and his hand is our salvation."

With the ritual words spoken, Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue imparted cultivation experiences to the gathered disciples. They spoke of techniques refined through pain, of breakthroughs achieved when the body was humbled and the mind focused. They explained to the female slave elders how to accept punishment in a way that would please the master more: to stay still, to cry only when necessary, to thank the master for every strike.

Then Xuanfa stepped forward. From his storage ring, he produced a large jade bottle filled with pills. Each was a spirit-condensing pill of the highest grade, capable of aiding any cultivator in the Nascent Soul realm. He distributed one to every disciple, and they accepted them with trembling hands and grateful bows.

To those who had shown exceptional dedication and progress, he also gave magic artifacts: a defensive bracelet here, a flying sword there, a hairpin that enhanced perception. The recipients kowtowed deeply, their faces flushed with joy.

Then came the selection of new female slaves. From among the disciples who had applied, Xuanfa chose five. Their names were called, and they stepped forward, naked and exposed, their hearts pounding. They were both happy and afraid: happy that their cultivation could advance further under direct guidance, afraid that their buttocks would inevitably be spanked harshly. The five chosen ones knelt before Xuanfa, and he fastened a slave collar around each of their necks. The collars were black iron, inscribed with binding runes. Once locked, they signified total ownership.

The five new female slaves crawled to join the ranks of the female slave elders, their movements awkward but sincere. They took their places among the fifty, kneeling with the others, their buttocks raised in readiness.

Now came the spanking of the female slave elders. Fifty women divided into five rows of ten, each row facing the same direction. They knelt with their plump buttocks raised high, their thighs spread to expose the most tender targets. The air grew tense with anticipation.

Xuanfa raised a hand, and fifty celestial wood boards materialized in the air. They hung above the kneeling women, each board aligned with a pair of buttocks. Then he lowered his hand.

The boards descended in perfect unison.

The first strike cracked like thunder, a sharp, wet sound that echoed across the sect. Fifty buttocks shuddered under the impact, and fifty gasps of pain escaped fifty mouths. Red welts bloomed across the pale skin.

The second strike came immediately after, and the third, and the fourth. The boards moved with a relentless rhythm, each strike landing on a fresh spot. The sound of wood hitting flesh became a continuous drumbeat, a symphony of punishment.

The female slaves who were being punished cried out, some screaming, some sobbing, some biting their lips to stay quiet. But none tried to dodge. They had learned that dodging only earned more strikes. They stayed still, their bodies trembling, their buttocks turning from pink to red to a deep, angry crimson.

Lin Qiaoxin watched from her kneeling position at the front, her eyes bright with interest. She remembered her own first punishments, how she had writhed and cried, how Xuanfa had never let up. Now she watched these women endure, and she felt a strange sense of kinship with them.

Li Que observed with a critical eye. She noted which women stayed still and which ones quivered too much. To her, discipline was a matter of pride, even in submission. She would never disgrace herself by failing to hold a position.

Shen Mengyue's gaze was gentle. She could sense the pain radiating from the group, and she felt a deep empathy. She had been there too, and she knew that after the pain came a strange purity, a clarity of purpose.

The two hundred strikes passed slowly. By the end, the fifty women's buttocks were swollen and battered, covered in a latticework of welts and bruises. Some were weeping openly, others were gasping for breath. But all of them had endured. They remained kneeling, their buttocks still raised, as the boards vanished.

Then came the most important part: the spanking of the grand elder female slaves.

Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue all knelt before Xuanfa. Their bodies were flawless: Lin Qiaoxin's youthful curves, Li Que's muscular and athletic build, Shen Mengyue's elegant and mature form. Lin Qiaoxin's skin was fair and smooth, her twin tails framing a face that looked almost childish despite the gravity of the moment. Li Que's red hair was tied in a high ponytail, her body lean and strong, every muscle defined. Shen Mengyue's black hair cascaded down her back, her body both pure and seductive, with the fullness of a woman who had lived through many years.

The three kowtowed to Xuanfa, their foreheads touching the ground. Then they rose to their knees and turned around, presenting their raised buttocks to him. The three pairs of plump cheeks were perfectly formed, round and inviting. They waited, their hearts pounding.

Xuanfa regarded them for a long moment. Then he raised a hand, and a single celestial wood board appeared. This one was larger than the others, darker, and infused with a faint aura of power.

Lin Qiaoxin glanced back with a mischievous smile. "Master, please be gentle with this little disciple. She's still tender."

Xuanfa said nothing. The board descended.

The strike caught Lin Qiaoxin's right cheek, and she let out a sharp yelp. The sound was more surprise than pain, but the force was immense. The board lifted and struck again, landing on her left cheek. Her body rocked forward, but she held her position.

Li Que clenched her teeth, her pride forbidding her from showing weakness. The board came for her next, a powerful strike that landed squarely on both cheeks. She grunted, her muscles tensing, but she did not cry out.

Shen Mengyue received her first strike with a soft moan. The wood bit deep, and she felt the sting spread through her entire being. She closed her eyes and focused on the pain, accepting it as a gift.

The board flew with a will of its own, striking each of the three women in turn. Lin Qiaoxin had stopped smiling after the first ten strikes, her cheeks turning bright red. She whimpered with each subsequent blow, but she did not beg for mercy. She knew better.

Li Que's stoicism lasted until the thirtieth strike. Then a single tear escaped her eye, and she let out a low groan. The board kept coming, relentless, and she bit her lip to stop herself from screaming.

Shen Mengyue endured in silence, her body swaying with each strike, her breaths coming in harsh gasps. The board seemed to find the most sensitive spots, and each time it connected, a wave of pain radiated outward.

The five hundred strikes took a long time. The disciples in the periphery watched in awed silence, witnessing the punishment of the three most powerful female slaves in the sect. The female slave elders who had just been punished felt a mix of empathy and relief that they had only suffered two hundred.

By the third hundred, Lin Qiaoxin was openly crying, her tears dripping onto the stone. "Master, this little slave's buttocks are completely destroyed!" she wailed, but she held her position.

Li Que was shaking violently, her teeth clenched so hard that a small trickle of blood ran from her lip. She had not screamed, but her entire body was a portrait of agony.

Shen Mengyue had gone quiet, her face pale, her eyes half-lidded. The pain was enormous, but she had prepared herself for it. She accepted each strike as a necessary part of her path.

At the four hundredth strike, Lin Qiaoxin let out a loud sob. "Master, please! This little slave promises to be good forever! Just stop!"

Xuanfa did not respond. The board struck again.

"I will serve you faithfully for eternity!" Lin Qiaoxin cried. "I will crawl for you, I will bare my buttocks for you every day! Just please spare me this last hundred!"

The board struck again, and she screamed.

Li Que broke her silence at the four hundred and fifti

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In the vast plaza of the Phoenix Punishment Sect, a figure knelt under the pale morning light. The demon sovereign Fei was completely naked, her hands bound behind her back with shimmering demon-binding ropes that glowed with faint golden runes. Her fiery red flowing hair cascaded down her shoulders and back, a waterfall of flame that caught the sunlight. A pair of exquisite golden dragon horns curved elegantly from her temples, catching the light like polished metal. Her golden eyes, still burning with indomitable pride despite her position, stared straight ahead at the stone before her. Her body was perfection incarnate—graceful curves, a narrow waist, and full, round buttocks raised high in the air, presented like an offering. The skin of her back and buttocks bore the marks of countless punishments, stripes and bruises in various stages of healing, but her posture remained unbroken, her spine straight even as she knelt.

Every day began the same way. After the roosters crowed, the demon sovereign was brought from her cell and positioned in the center of the plaza. The other female prisoners—Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue—would gather to watch, some with amusement, some with admiration, some with cold calculation. Today was no different.

Xuanfa walked into the plaza, his black training clothes immaculate, his face an impassive mask of indifference. He stopped before Fei, looking down at her raised buttocks with cold appraisal. "Demon Sovereign Fei," he said, his voice flat, "once looking down on all beings, now raising your buttocks to be spanked. How does it feel?"

Fei chuckled, the sound low and throaty, her golden eyes flickering with amusement. "The victor is king, the loser is bandit. Since I was outmatched and lost to everyone, I naturally accept whatever punishment." She shifted her weight, wiggling her raised buttocks slightly. "However, although your methods hurt, I can still endure them somewhat. I look forward to the day when Xuanfa Heavenly Venerable's methods can smash my buttocks to pieces and make me completely submit."

Xuanfa's expression did not change, but a flicker of cold interest passed through his eyes. "We shall see," he said, and stepped back.

The punishment began.

The first phase belonged to the celestial wood board. Two muscular disciples carried the thick plank between them, its surface worn smooth from countless impacts. They positioned themselves on either side of Fei's raised posterior, and the first blow fell.

*THWACK!*

The sound echoed across the plaza like thunder. Fei's entire body jolted, her buttocks bouncing from the impact, a red stripe blooming across both cheeks. She let out a sharp gasp, but it quickly dissolved into a throaty moan.

"Harder," she purred, her voice dripping with mockery. "That was barely a love tap."

The disciples exchanged glances and swung again. *THWACK!* *THWACK!* *THWACK!* The blows came in a steady rhythm, each one landing with brutal precision, turning her pale buttocks an angry red. Fei's moans grew louder, more theatrical, her hips swaying slightly as if she were dancing to the rhythm of the punishment.

"Ahh~ yes~ right there~" she called out, her voice carrying across the plaza. "That spot needs more attention, don't you think?"

The disciples remained silent, their faces grim, swinging the board without mercy. After five hundred strikes, her buttocks were a deep crimson, swelling visibly, but Fei's voice had not once broken into genuine pain. She still moaned and teased, her golden eyes half-lidded with amusement.

Lin Qiaoxin stepped forward, her twin tails bouncing, a wide grin on her face. "My turn~ my turn~!" She clapped her hands, and formation arrays materialized in the air around Fei, glowing with pale blue light. With a wave, the arrays solidified into steel whips and boards, hovering menacingly.

Fei turned her head to look at the young prodigy. "Ah, the little formation master. Be gentle, won't you?"

"No promises~" Lin Qiaoxin giggled, and the first steel whip lashed out.

*CRACK!*

The whip bit into the already-bruised flesh, leaving a thin line of red. Fei gasped, her body arching forward, but she quickly recovered.

"Ooh~ that has some bite~" she said, her voice strained but still teasing. "I like it."

*CRACK!* *CRACK!* *CRACK!* The whips and boards took turns, some striking, some slapping, each leaving a new mark. Lin Qiaoxin's formations allowed for precise control, alternating between sharp, stinging lashes and broad, numbing impacts. Fei's moans grew louder, more breathless, but still she laughed.

"Is that all you've got, little girl?" she taunted. "I thought a prodigy like you would have something more... creative."

Lin Qiaoxin pouted. "Mean! I'll show you creative!" She adjusted the formations, and the steel boards began to spin, striking with a twisting motion that pulled the skin. Fei let out a sharp cry, the first hint of genuine reaction.

"There we go~" Fei gasped, her smile widening. "That's more like it."

After one hundred strikes, Lin Qiaoxin stepped back, breathing slightly hard, her eyes wide with admiration. "Wow... your body is seriously tough. I usually make people cry after fifty."

Fei chuckled. "You'll need more than that to make me cry, little one."

Next came Shen Mengyue. The sect leader of the Immortal Cloud Sect walked forward with cold, measured steps, her body naked like the others, her waist-length black hair swaying. In her hand, she held no sword, but her Qi gathered, forming blades of pure sword intent that hovered around her.

Fei's golden eyes met Shen Mengyue's. "The virtuous sect leader herself comes to punish me. I'm honored."

Shen Mengyue said nothing. She raised her hand, and a blade of sword qi shot forward, striking Fei's right buttock with surgical precision.

*SHLICE!*

Fei gasped, her body tensing. The sword qi was different from the board or the whip—it cut deeper, sharper, leaving a thin line that welled with blood. Another blade struck the left cheek. Another across the crease where buttock met thigh. Shen Mengyue's strikes were precise, artistic, each one landing with cold efficiency.

Fei's moans took on a different quality now, lower, more guttural. "Ahh~ sect leader has good aim~ right on the tender spots~"

Shen Mengyue's expression remained blank, her hand steady. Blades continued to fall, one after another, one hundred in total, each finding a new patch of unmarked skin. By the end, Fei's buttocks were covered in thin red lines, crisscrossing like a map of veins.

Finally, Li Que stepped forward. The red-haired vice leader of the Vermilion Bird Sect cracked her whip, the leather infused with flickering flames that licked the air. Her athletic body was taut with barely contained energy, her high ponytail swinging.

"Demon sovereign," Li Que said, her voice respectful but eager. "I've been looking forward to this."

"As have I," Fei replied, turning her head to meet Li Que's gaze. "I've heard your whip is legendary."

"It is." Without further word, Li Que snapped the whip.

*CRACKLE!*

The flame-wreathed leather bit into the crease of Fei's buttocks, the spot where the buttocks met the thighs, the most sensitive and vulnerable area. Fei's entire body convulsed, a real cry escaping her lips for the first time.

"AHH—!"

Li Que smiled, a fierce, proud expression. She struck again, and again, each blow targeting the same narrow band of flesh. The fire kissed the skin, the leather bruised, and the impact sent shockwaves through Fei's core. Fei's breathing grew ragged, her moans mixing with sharp gasps and the occasional shudder.

"You're... very good at this..." Fei managed, her voice thick.

"I know," Li Que replied, and struck again.

After one hundred whip strikes to the crease, Fei's entire lower body was a canvas of red and purple, the crease itself a darker, angrier shade, swollen and throbbing. But still, Fei did not beg. She did not plead. She only chuckled, her breath coming in short, harsh bursts.

"Not bad... not bad at all..."

Night fell. Shen Mengyue approached with the anal hook, a curved metal device polished to a mirror shine. Fei's golden eyes watched without fear as the sect leader knelt behind her, her fingers parting the swollen, punished flesh to find the entrance. The cold metal pressed forward, and Fei's body tensed, a low groan escaping her lips as the hook slid inside, finding its purchase.

Shen Mengyue attached the chain to the hook, then pulled it taut, securing it to a ring suspended from a pole. Fei was lifted, her body hanging, her arms still bound behind her, her weight supported only by the hook inside her. Her toes barely touched the ground, and every small movement sent a jolt through her insides.

"Good night, demon sovereign," Shen Mengyue said quietly.

"Sweet dreams," Fei replied, her voice still holding a thread of amusement.

The three women turned away, their own punishments awaiting.

The next morning, it was their turn.

Lin Qiaoxin was first, kneeling with her bare buttocks raised, her twin tails drooping forward as she pressed her forehead to the stone. "Ready~" she chirped.

Xuanfa walked behind her, a thin bamboo rod in his hand. He raised it and struck.

*SWHISH!* *SMACK!*

Lin Qiaoxin let out a yelp, then giggled. "Owie~ that stings~"

"It is meant to," Xuanfa said flatly, and struck again.

*SMACK!* *SMACK!* *SMACK!*

Lin Qiaoxin's buttocks bounced with each blow, her youthful skin quickly turning pink. She squirmed and laughed, her voice light. "Hehe~ you're so serious~ you never smile~"

"I have no reason to smile."

"But you could make a tiny one~ just a little~" She peeked back at him, her eyes mischievous. "Come on~ you know you want to~"

Xuanfa's expression did not change, but he struck harder. Lin Qiaoxin yelped, her body lurching forward, but she was still laughing.

Li Que knelt next, her athletic frame taut as she raised her hips high. "I accept your punishment, heavenly venerable."

Xuanfa took a wider paddle, its surface studded with small bumps. He struck her buttocks with a full swing.

*WHACK!*

Li Que grunted, her body absorbing the blow. She did not flinch, did not cry out. Her pride demanded it.

"You are strong," Xuanfa observed, striking again.

"I submit only to the strong," Li Que replied through gritted teeth. "You are strong. I accept this."

*WHACK!* *WHACK!* *WHACK!*

Each blow left its mark, dimpling her skin with the paddle's bumps. Li Que held her position, her breath steady, her eyes closed. When the punishment ended, she lowered her hips with a quiet exhale, then turned to bow her head to Xuanfa.

"Thank you for the correction."

Shen Mengyue came last. She knelt with perfect posture, her long black hair pooling on the ground around her, her white skin stark against the stone. She did not speak, did not joke, did not flatter. She simply waited.

Xuanfa took a leather strap, doubled it over, and struck.

*CRACK!*

Shen Mengyue's body shuddered, a soft sound escaping her lips—not quite a cry, not quite a moan. Her hands clenched into fists, but she held her position.

"You have improved," Xuanfa said, striking again.

"Thank you, heavenly venerable," Shen Mengyue whispered.

*CRACK!* *CRACK!* *CRACK!*

The strikes landed in methodical rhythm, painting her pale cheeks red. Shen Mengyue accepted each one with quiet dignity, her jaw tight, her eyes fixed on the ground. When it was over, she remained kneeling, her breath slow and deep.

Xuanfa turned and walked away, leaving the three women in the plaza.

High above, suspended by the anal hook, Fei watched with half-closed eyes. Her swollen buttocks throbbed in the night air, the marks of the day's punishment glowing under the moonlight. She smiled, her golden eyes gleaming.

"Smash my buttocks to pieces, will he?" she murmured to herself. "I look forward to it."

In the Profound Heaven Realm, Xuanfa stood before a workbench of polished jade. Materials floated around him—celestial iron from

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