The Punishment of Xuanfa the Heavenly Lord

The realms of cultivation stretched from Qi Refining to Foundation Building, Golden Core, Nascent Soul, and finally Divine Transformation. In this world, female cultivators outnumbered males by a wide margin, but those men who reached the higher realms were invariably elite, their power undiluted by numbers. An ancient and peculiar law governed the balance: a male cultivator could take a female cultivator as his female slave by spanking her bare buttocks, and this act accelerated cultivation for both parties. Most women fought against it with every fiber of their being, preferring death or lifelong stagnation over such submission. But the law existed, immutable, a thread woven into the fabric of reality itself.

Xuanfa the Heavenly Lord knew this law well. He was a man of few words, his face a mask of cold indifference, his body clad in stark black training clothes that hugged his muscular frame. His eyes were like chips of obsidian, revealing nothing. He was shrewd, strong, and violent when provoked, and above all, he loved the act of spanking a woman's bottom—the curve, the heat, the eventual surrender. He never broke a promise. When he said he would spank a woman until she cried and begged for mercy, he meant it.

For three hundred years, he had sat in secluded cultivation within the human city of Wuling, undisturbed, his power swelling until he reached the Great Perfection of Divine Transformation. Few in the world could match him. Fewer still dared to try.

Then Fei came.

She was the peerless dragon clan demon lord, a being of ancient blood and boundless pride. Her hair blazed like living fire, streaming behind her as she flew at the head of a demon army that blackened the sky. Golden horns curved from her temples, elegant and sharp as blades. Her eyes were molten gold, and her body—naked save for a black slave collar that would later become her symbol—was a masterpiece of grace and strength. She looked down on all beings, human and demon alike, for she had never met her equal.

She led her forces to the gates of Wuling City, her voice a thunderclap that shook the walls. "Surrender, or be annihilated."

The city's defenders trembled. Wuling was not a fortress; it was a place of scholarship and cultivation, ill-prepared for war. But within its depths, Xuanfa stirred.

He rose from his meditation like a shadow given form. No words were exchanged. He simply appeared on the city wall, his black robes fluttering in the demon wind, his gaze fixed on the naked dragon lady who hovered above her army.

Fei laughed, a sound like breaking crystal. "So, the Heavenly Lord shows himself. I have heard of you, Xuanfa. They say you are invincible. I intend to test that claim."

She attacked without warning, her clawed hands wreathed in golden flames. Xuanfa raised a finger, and a shimmering barrier of qi deflected the strike. The battle that followed lasted five days and five nights, a cataclysm of light and sound that scarred the land for miles. Fei was fast, her dragon body nearly indestructible, her wounds healing as fast as they were made. But Xuanfa was methodical, cold, and endlessly patient. His finger techniques carved through her defenses, each strike precise, each evasion calculated.

On the dawn of the sixth day, he caught her.

A flick of his wrist locked her limbs in invisible chains of qi. She struggled, roared, her golden eyes blazing with fury, but she could not break free. Xuanfa landed on the rooftop of the tallest building in Wuling City, dragging her behind him. He bent her over the ridge of the roof, her naked body arched, her proud face pressed against the cold tiles.

"Let me go, you bastard!" she snarled. "I will burn this city to ash!"

Xuanfa ignored her. He raised his right hand, and from the void came a plank of polished white jade—the Heavenly Dao plank, a tool of punishment imbued with the authority of heaven itself. It hummed with power.

"I will spank you until you cry and beg for mercy," Xuanfa said, his voice flat and emotionless. "Only then will I stop."

Fei laughed, a harsh, defiant sound. "Spank me? You think a few slaps on my backside will break me? I have endured the fires of the abyss, the venom of a thousand serpents. Do your worst, Heavenly Lord. I want to see what tricks you have."

She would regret those words.

The first strike fell. The plank connected with her right buttock, the impact a thunderclap that echoed across the city. Her flesh quivered, a bright red handprint blooming instantly. Fei grit her teeth, refusing to make a sound. The second stroke landed on her left cheek, symmetric, just as brutal. Her eyes watered, but she held.

Stroke after stroke, the plank descended with mechanical precision. Ten. Fifty. One hundred. Her bottom turned scarlet, then purple, the skin swelling and splitting in places. Still she did not cry. She whimpered once, at stroke two hundred, but swallowed it immediately, her pride a wall against the pain.

At stroke three thousand, she could take no more.

"Mercy," she gasped, her voice ragged, her body trembling. "I beg for mercy. Stop."

Xuanfa lowered the plank. "Too late for pride," he said, but he ceased the spanking. Her bottom was a ruin of welts and bruises, but he was not done.

He spread her legs, exposing the most intimate parts of her. From the air he summoned a black whip, its leather glistening with an oily sheen. He raised it and brought it down directly into the crack of her buttocks, the tip striking her anus, perineum, and vagina in one seamless stroke.

Fei screamed.

The whip cracked again and again, each stroke precisely aimed to cover that vulnerable seam. Her anus swelled, the delicate tissues becoming puffy and tender. Her vagina reddened, the lips parting under the abuse. She writhed, tried to close her legs, but his qi held her open.

After a hundred strokes, her anus was grotesquely swollen, a puckered rose of abused flesh. Xuanfa vanished the whip and produced a strip of fresh ginger, its surface rough and fibrous. He pressed it against her anus.

"No," Fei whispered, her voice suddenly small.

He pushed it in.

The ginger burned. The raw, spicy juice seeped into the torn tissues, and Fei's back arched, a choked cry tearing from her throat. She sobbed, her fingers scrabbling at the roof tiles, but she could not remove the ginger. Xuanfa watched, cold and impassive, as she endured the agony.

That was only the first day.

For five years, Xuanfa kept Fei in Wuling City. He spanked her every morning, alternating with the Heavenly Dao plank and his bare hand. He whipped her crack every evening, ensuring her anus never fully healed. He inserted ginger strips, sometimes leaving them in for hours, sometimes sealing her rectum with a qi plug so she could not expel them. He hung her by her ankles from a beam, her spread legs exposed to the open air, and he spanked her until she could no longer scream, only whimper.

She never submitted. Occasionally, when the pain was too much, she would whimper for mercy, but as soon as he stopped, her defiance returned. She cursed him, spat at him, promised revenge. Xuanfa did not care. He had time.

After five years, he decided on a new punishment.

He mounted her back, his weight settling between her shoulder blades. "Crawl," he ordered. "Crawl from Wuling City to the Demon Lord City. Carry me."

Fei's golden eyes blazed with hatred, but she could not refuse. His qi bound her will, and so she crawled, naked, on all fours, with Xuanfa riding her like a beast of burden. The journey took months. She crawled through forests, across plains, over mountains, her knees and palms raw, her bottom still bearing the marks of that first spanking. Villagers and traveling cultivators saw her and gasped. Word spread like wildfire. The proud demon lord Fei, crawling naked with a man on her back.

When they reached the gates of Demon Lord City, the demons within were utterly shocked. Their lord, their invincible dragon queen, crawled on all fours, her head bowed, her body bare, carrying a man. Fear and horror rippled through the ranks. Some drew weapons, but Xuanfa raised a single finger, and they froze.

Fei crawled through the streets, past houses and markets, her subjects watching in stunned silence. She crawled up the steps of her own hall, the great throne room where she had ruled for centuries. Xuanfa dismounted and stood before her, his cold eyes sweeping over the assembled demons.

"This demon lord attacked Wuling City," he announced, his voice carrying to every corner. "She has been punished. But her lesson is not yet complete. From this day forward, every day, she will be punished in front of all of you. You will watch. You will learn."

He bent Fei over the steps of her own throne. He summoned the Heavenly Dao plank and began to spank her in full view of her assembled generals, her servants, her admirers. The sound of the plank against her ruined bottom echoed through the hall.

At first, Fei scoffed. She laughed through the pain, mocking him, mocking her subjects. "See how your lord is treated? Are you not ashamed to serve one so weak?" she jeered. But inside, a new emotion was growing—something she had never felt before. Shame. Deep, corrosive shame.

Her generals averted their eyes. Some wept. Others clenched their fists in rage, but none dared intervene.

The spanking became routine. Every morning, Xuanfa had her bent over the steps, and he spanked her for an hour. Every evening, he had her spread her legs, and he whipped her crack, ensuring every stroke hit her anus, perineum, and vagina. He used a ginger enema once a week, filling her rectum with shredded ginger root mixed with water, then sealing it with a plug. She would writhe on the floor, her belly distended, tears streaming down her face, while her subjects watched.

Once a month, he inserted an anal hook—a curved metal device with a barbed tip—and hung her from the ceiling by a chain attached to the hook. She swung naked, her weight pulling the hook deeper, her screams muffled only by her pride. Her anus stretched, the barbs tearing her insides, and she would hang there for an entire day, rotating slowly, a spectacle for all.

The years passed. Fei's pride cracked. The shame of being spanked in front of her subordinates, of being whipped in the crack while they watched, of being hung by an anal hook like a piece of meat—it wore her down. The pain became inseparable from the humiliation. She began to fear the morning spanking, to dread the evening whipping, to tremble at the mention of ginger enemas.

Fifty years.

On the last day, Xuanfa did not bend her over the steps. He stood before her, his hands clasped behind his back. "Will you submit?" he asked.

Fei knelt. Her fiery hair hung limp around her shoulders. Her golden horns seemed dull. Her eyes, once full of contempt, were now empty.

"Fei slave voluntarily becomes her master's female slave," she said, her voice a whisper that somehow carried through the silent hall. She kowtowed, her forehead touching the cold stone. "And is willing to accept all punishment."

Xuanfa looked down at her. Then he nodded once.

"Rise, slave. Your training is complete."

The female cultivators of the Vermillion Bird Gate stood frozen, their faces pale as they watched their proud Vice Leader Li Que suspended in midair by Lin Qiaoxin’s formation. Her body was spread-eagled, her arms and legs bound by glowing runic chains that held her immobile. Her red hair, once tied in a high ponytail, now hung loose and tangled, framing a face twisted in fury and humiliation.

Li Que gritted her teeth as the first steel whip cracked against her bare bottom, leaving a deep red line across her skin. She refused to scream, refused to give them the satisfaction. The whip fell again, and again, each stroke a searing line of fire. The cultivators below watched in horror, some covering their mouths, others turning away. This was their vice leader, the strongest among them, being punished like a child.

“Stubborn and unyielding,” Xuanfa said, his voice cold and flat. He stood below, arms crossed, watching her with those unreadable eyes. He reached into his robes and pulled out a piece of divine ginger, its golden skin pulsing with spiritual energy. With a flick of his fingers, he sliced it into a long, thin strip.

Fei stepped forward, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement. She spread Li Que’s buttocks open, ignoring the woman’s furious struggles. “Hold still,” Fei murmured, her voice soft but commanding. “It will only hurt worse if you fight it.”

Li Que screamed as the ginger strip was inserted into her anus. The burning sensation was immediate and intense, spreading through her insides like fire. She thrashed against her bonds, tears streaming down her face as the spice invaded her body. Her anus swelled, the rim turning red and raw as the ginger worked its torment.

“Please,” she gasped, but the word died in her throat. She would not beg. She would not.

Xuanfa watched impassively, then gestured for the anal hook. Lin Qiaoxin conjured it from light—a curved metal rod with a cruel spike at its end. Fei took it, hooking it into Li Que’s swollen anus. The spike dug into her rectum as the hook was lifted, suspending her weight from that single point. Li Que howled, her body jerking as pain shot through her core.

Lin Qiaoxin formed a whip from the formation’s energy, its tip glowing with sharp light. She cracked it across Li Que’s bottom, the strike landing on the already battered skin. Li Que sobbed, her body trembling as she was caught between the fire of the ginger and the bite of the whip.

“Enough!” Li Que roared, her voice cracking. “If you defeat me in combat, I’ll become your female slave!”

Lin Qiaoxin laughed, the sound light and mocking. “You couldn’t even beat me, and you want to spar with our master?” She shook her head. “But very well. Master, she asked for it.”

Xuanfa stepped forward, his expression unchanged. He raised one hand, and a finger-thick beam of energy shot from his fingertip. It struck Li Que squarely in the chest, sending her hurtling across the square. She crashed into a pillar, the stone cracking behind her. Before she could recover, he appeared before her, another finger pressed to her forehead.

“Yield,” he said.

Li Que stared into his cold eyes, and for the first time, she felt true fear. She lowered her head. “I yield.”

Xuanfa nodded and produced the Heavenly Realm—a small, glowing orb that pulsed with spiritual light. He directed it at Li Que, and she felt herself being drawn into it, her body dissolving into light. When she reappeared, she stood in a vast, beautiful space filled with ancient trees and crystalline streams. The air was thick with spiritual energy, and she felt her cultivation instinctively reaching for it.

But she was naked. Her clothes were gone, destroyed by the formation earlier. Around her neck, a black slave collar materialized, its surface smooth and cold against her skin.

Fei and Lin Qiaoxin stood before her, both wearing identical collars. Fei smiled, her golden teeth glinting. “Welcome to the Heavenly Realm.”

Xuanfa’s voice echoed around them, seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere at once. “Teach Li Que the rules.”

Lin Qiaoxin grinned, her twin pigtails bouncing as she stepped forward. “Alright, sis, here’s the deal. Every female slave gets a personal space in the Heavenly Realm, with the best environment and ancient texts suited to her cultivation direction. The price? Every day, you must receive two hundred strokes of the Heavenly Dao plank on your bottom.”

Li Que shuddered, her anus still burning from the ginger. “Two hundred strokes every day?”

“That’s right,” Lin Qiaoxin said cheerfully. “Two hundred every single day. No exceptions.”

Fei chuckled, her voice rich and amused. “Two hundred strokes a day, not even enough for a bottom massage.”

Lin Qiaoxin rolled her eyes. “Not everyone is a pervert like Sister Fei, who gets happier the more painful the spanking. And your dragon bloodline gives you strong recovery; ordinary cultivators couldn’t take so many strokes.”

Before Li Que could respond, the Heavenly Dao plank appeared before her—a long, flat piece of wood that seemed to glow with divine authority. It hovered in the air, waiting.

Li Que hesitated, but she knew there was no escape. She knelt down, her legs trembling, and raised her bottom high. The position was agonizing, her body still raw from the earlier punishment. She closed her eyes, waiting.

The plank descended with a sharp crack. The first stroke landed across her left cheek, sending a jolt of pain through her. She gasped, but forced herself to stay still. A second stroke fell, then a third. Each one was precise, methodical, and devastating. The plank seemed to find every tender spot, every bruise from before, and pound them with ruthless accuracy.

By the fiftieth stroke, Li Que was weeping openly. The skin of her buttocks was a deep, angry red, mottled with purple bruises. Each new stroke sent waves of agony through her, her body shaking uncontrollably. By the hundredth, she had stopped counting, her mind retreating into a haze of pain.

At the two hundredth stroke, she collapsed forward, her face hitting the ground. The plank vanished, leaving her sobbing on the soft grass. Her bottom was a mess of welts and bruises, the skin hot to the touch.

She lay there for a long moment, catching her breath, before she forced herself to rise. She knelt in front of Xuanfa, who had appeared before her. She lowered her head, her forehead touching the ground.

“Que slave voluntarily becomes her master’s female slave and is willing to accept all punishment.”

Fifteen years had passed in the Heavenly Realm, and the rhythm of punishment had become as routine as breathing for Li Que. Each morning, she knelt on the cold jade floor of the Celestial Punishment Hall, raised her athletic hips, and waited for the Heavenly Dao plank to descend on her bare bottom. The wooden slab, suffused with divine light, struck with mechanical precision—two hundred strokes every day, rain or shine. Over the years, the skin of her buttocks had hardened into a leathery resilience, though the pain never dulled. She had learned to bite her lip and breathe through the strikes, her proud spirit slowly ground down like a stone worn smooth by a relentless river. She no longer flinched when Xuanfa led them through the halls on all fours, naked, collars around their necks, crawling behind him like tamed beasts. Lin Qiaoxin had adapted with her usual playful grit, her twin pigtails bouncing as she crawled, occasionally joking with Li Que under her breath. Fei, the former demon lord, moved with a serpentine grace, her golden eyes fixed ahead, her dragon horns gleaming in the celestial light.

One evening, as the three women knelt in a row in their shared quarters, Li Que finally broke the silence. "Lin Qiaoxin, you've been with him longer than I have. What does Xuanfa really like? What makes him truly happy?"

Lin Qiaoxin tilted her head, her youthful face thoughtful. "I've always thought it's about power. Seeing us reduced to this." She gestured at her own naked body. "But I'm not sure."

They both turned to Fei, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor, her fiery red hair cascading down her back. The black slave collar around her neck glinted in the lamplight. Fei smiled—a slow, knowing smile that didn't reach her golden eyes. "He loves watching female cultivators being spanked and tormented. The pain they suffer makes Xuanfa mentally stronger and increases his cultivation. The more your bottoms are beaten, the happier Xuanfa gets."

Li Que frowned. "So this is all for his cultivation?"

"Exactly," Fei said. "Every scream, every tear, every swollen welt—it feeds his divine power. I learned that during my fifty years under him. He didn't break me through cruelty alone. He broke me by savoring every moment of my suffering."

Lin Qiaoxin perked up. "Then I have an idea. The entire cultivation world already knows that three hundred years ago, you were defeated and spanked in Wuling City. They know Shen Mengyue was stripped and knelt with her bottom raised in front of her sect hall. But it's not yet widely known that I, the formation genius, and you, Li Que, the Vermillion Bird Gate vice leader, have become his female slaves."

Li Que's eyes narrowed. "You want to make it public?"

"Yes," Lin Qiaoxin said, her voice excited. "Let's suggest that Xuanfa lead us, naked and crawling on all fours like dogs, to the highest rooftop of Wuling City. We'll have Shen Mengyue's disciples lead her by a dog leash to the same rooftop. The three of us—Lin Qiaoxin, Li Que, and Shen Mengyue—will kneel in a row, upper bodies bent forward, plump bottoms raised high. Xuanfa will summon the Heavenly Dao plank to automatically spank all three. We'll let our bottoms be beaten completely raw, to the point where even cultivators would take a week to recover. Then he'll forcibly spread our legs and whip our buttock cracks fiercely with a whip, ensuring our anuses and vaginas are swollen. Finally, he'll insert anal hooks into our swollen anuses and hang us in public for a week. That will surely make Xuanfa happy."

Fei chuckled, a throaty sound. "How can you forget me? Wuling City is such a nostalgic place. That's where I was first spanked by my master. I should be there too, on that rooftop, getting my turn from the plank."

Li Que nodded slowly. "Four bottoms raised for him. He'll be delighted."

The next morning, they crawled to Xuanfa's throne. He sat in black training clothes, his cold handsome face unreadable. They presented their proposal in unison, kneeling with foreheads pressed to the floor. Xuanfa listened without expression, then said, "An interesting plan. I will consider it."

But then his eyes flickered with something like amusement. "However, I wish to try some new punishments first. Before we go to Wuling City, I want to see how well you handle divine ginger juice in your bowels."

Lin Qiaoxin's face paled. Li Que stiffened. Fei merely smiled.

Xuanfa gestured, and three low wooden stools were placed in a row in the center of the hall. "Kneel. Raise your bottoms. Spread your anuses."

They obeyed without hesitation. Li Que positioned herself on all fours over the stool, her athletic thighs spread wide. She reached back with both hands and pulled her buttocks apart, feeling the cool air on her exposed anus. Lin Qiaoxin did the same, her youthful bottom trembling slightly. Fei, experienced and composed, spread her cheeks with practiced ease, her golden eyes fixed on the ceiling.

Xuanfa produced a jade bottle filled with a viscous brown liquid. He walked behind them, his steps silent. "This is ginger juice made from divine ginger that I cultivated in the Eastern Sea. It burns hotter than any mortal ginger. Once inside you, it will feel like liquid fire."

He knelt behind Fei first. The tip of a glass funnel was pressed against her anus. Fei didn't flinch as he inserted it and poured the juice in. The liquid flowed into her rectum, and she let out a slow, controlled exhale. Her muscles tensed, but she did not cry out. She had endured far worse for fifty years.

Then he moved to Lin Qiaoxin. The moment the funnel touched her anus, she whimpered. When the ginger juice began to pour in, she gasped, her body jerking. "Ah! It burns! It burns so much!" Her back arched, and she nearly pulled her hands away from her spread cheeks, but she forced herself to stay still.

Li Que watched through gritted teeth. Then the funnel pressed against her own anus. The rim was cold, but the juice that entered was fire. As it spread inside her intestinal tract, she felt as if a red-hot iron rod had been rammed up her rear. A scream tore from her throat before she could stop it. "Agh! Fuck!"

Her whole body convulsed. Sweat broke out on her forehead. The burning sensation climbed deeper, filling her abdomen with unbearable heat. She clenched her fists, her knuckles white against her buttocks. Her anus spasmed, trying to expel the liquid, but Xuanfa held the funnel firmly in place, pouring until the bottle was empty.

Lin Qiaoxin was already writhing on the stool. Tears streamed down her face. "Master, it's too much! Please, I can't—"

"You can and you will," Xuanfa said coldly. "This is the warm-up."

He stepped back, surveying the three women. Fei remained still, though her breathing had deepened. Lin Qiaoxin was panting, her body trembling. Li Que's entire lower half seemed to be on fire, and she had to focus all her will not to spray the liquid out.

Xuanfa raised his hand. The Heavenly Dao plank materialized above him, gleaming with divine light. "Now, we will proceed with the daily two hundred strokes. However, I have a condition. During the spanking, you are not allowed to lose control and spray intestinal fluid. If you do, you will receive an additional hundred strokes."

Lin Qiaoxin sobbed. "Master, with this burning inside me, I can't—"

"Silence," Xuanfa said. "The first stroke will land in three breaths. Prepare."

The plank descended. It struck Fei's bottom first, a thunderous crack that echoed through the hall. Fei grunted, her body absorbing the impact. The welt rose on her pale skin. Then the plank struck Li Que. The blow landed on her left cheek, and the pain shot through her like lightning. She lurched forward, but kept her hands on her cheeks, her anus still spread. The ginger juice sloshed inside her, intensifying the burn. She clenched every muscle to keep from leaking.

The plank struck again, and again, building a rhythm. Fei took her strokes with stoic resilience, her bottom reddening but her composure intact. Lin Qiaoxin, however, began to break after a dozen strokes. Her anus clenched involuntarily with each impact, and the ginger juice heated to a screaming intensity. On the fifteenth stroke, a spasm wracked her, and a thin stream of brown liquid sprayed from her anus, splashing onto the floor.

Xuanfa stopped the plank. "You have lost control, Lin Qiaoxin. One hundred additional strokes."

"No, no, please—" she begged, but the plank resumed, now hitting her with three hundred strokes in total.

Li Que fought harder. She bit her lip until it bled. The burning inside her was agony, and each stroke of the plank sent shockwaves through her body that made her intestinal muscles twitch. She focused on a point on the wall, breathing through her nose, refusing to let go. But by the fortieth stroke, the pain was unbearable. The ginger juice had spread to every crevice of her lower bowels, and her body screamed for release. On the forty-third stroke, she couldn't hold it. A torrent of brown liquid erupted from her anus, splattering the floor and her own thighs.

Xuanfa's voice was calm. "Li Que, you have lost control. One hundred additional strokes."

She wept as the plank resumed, now counting up to three hundred for her as well.

Only Fei managed to endure the two hundred strokes without leaking. But the effort showed. Her golden eyes were bloodshot, and her thighs were trembling. When the final stroke landed, she slumped forward, breathing heavily, her bottom a mass of deep purple welts.

Xuanfa smiled—a rare, cold smile. "Well done, Fei. You have earned a reprieve." He turned to Lin Qiaoxin and Li Que. "You two will learn control. Bend over your stools."

They obeyed, crying softly. Fei watched them from the side, her face impassive. The additional hundred strokes began, each one a hammer blow on already raw flesh. Lin Qiaoxin's bottom was bleeding by the fiftieth stroke. Li Que's was swollen to twice its normal size. They screamed and sobbed through every hit, their anuses leaking ginger juice and blood.

When it was over, they collapsed onto the floor, unable to move. Xuanfa stepped over them, his boots clicking on the jade. "Tomorrow, we will begin your public punishment in Wuling City. Rest tonight. You will need your strength."

He walked away, leaving the three women sprawled in a pool of their own fluids, their bottoms glowing with fresh punishment, their bodies still burning from within. Fei slowly pushed herself up, her golden eyes meeting Li Que's tearful gaze.

"This is the cost of serving him," Fei said quietly. "But remember—every stroke makes him stronger. And you will learn to endure. You have no choice."

The sun hung high over the eastern plains, casting long shadows across the road that led to the Immortal Mist Sect. The air was still, heavy with the scent of blooming jasmine from the surrounding forests. But the tranquility shattered the moment a figure appeared on the horizon—a man in black training clothes, seated atop a naked woman who crawled on all fours like a beast of burden.

Xuanfa’s expression was cold, his handsome face carved from stone. He held a thin black whip loosely in his right hand, and with each sluggish step the woman took, he gave her flawless, upturned bottom a lazy lash. *Crack.* The sound echoed across the fields. The woman—Fei, the once-mighty demon lord—trembled but said nothing. Her fiery red hair cascaded wildly around her shoulders, her golden eyes fixed on the ground. A black slave collar hugged her slender neck, and her exquisite golden dragon horns caught the sunlight, flashing with muted glory. Her body was graceful, every curve sculpted, but now she moved with the submission of a tamed mare. Her bare breasts swayed with each crawl, her thighs glistening with sweat, and her buttocks—already covered in a lattice of old and new welts—quivered with each fresh stroke.

*Crack.* Another lash landed squarely on the right cheek. Fei’s breath hitched, but she did not stop. She crawled onward, her palms and knees scuffed from the journey. Xuanfa shifted his weight, and she adjusted her gait to keep him balanced. He did not speak to her. He did not need to. The whip was his voice, and her obedience was her answer.

They arrived at the gates of the Immortal Mist Sect. The mountain gate was carved from white jade, inscribed with flowing characters that declared the sect’s name in elegant script. Two female disciples in black-and-white Daoist robes stood guard. They saw the approaching figure and froze.

“Who… who dares—?” one began, but her voice died in her throat as she recognized the man. Xuanfa. The Heavenly Lord. And the creature beneath him…

Her eyes widened. The naked woman with dragon horns and red hair—was that not the demon lord of the Dragon Clan? The one who had led armies against Wuling City? The one who had been humiliated for fifty years? Yet here she was, crawling like a dog, her bottom striped with lash marks, her face a mask of forced calm.

Xuanfa did not even glance at the guards. He flicked the whip, and it coiled around Fei’s throat, a gentle reminder. “Proceed,” he said, his voice flat.

Fei crawled through the gate. The disciples scrambled aside, too shocked to block her. Word spread like wildfire through the sect. *Xuanfa is here. He’s riding a demon lord like a horse. He’s coming to the main hall.*

Inside the hall, Shen Mengyue sat in meditation, her waist-length black hair pooled around her, her face serene. She sensed the disturbance before she heard the footsteps. Her eyes opened, clear and calm, but a cold dread coiled in her stomach. She rose, her Daoist robes flowing, and walked to the entrance.

She saw him. Xuanfa, dismounting from the naked demoness, landing softly on the ground. Fei remained on all fours, head bowed, her rear still high, the welts vivid against her pale skin. Shen Mengyue’s breath caught. She had heard the stories—the defeat, the fifty years of punishment—but seeing it was different. Fei had been a peerless dragon lord, a being who looked down on all. Now she was a bare-bottomed mount, her pride crushed, her body marked by countless punishments.

“Xuanfa,” Shen Mengyue said, her voice steady despite the tremor in her heart. “You come to my sect uninvited, riding a demon like a beast. What offense has my sect committed?”

Xuanfa’s cold eyes met hers. “Your disciple accidentally offended me. I’ve come to collect recompense.” He twirled the whip in his hand. “I intend to spank every female cultivator in this sect until their buttocks bloom like flowers. Starting with you.”

Shen Mengyue’s hand moved to her sword hilt. “You are arrogant, Heavenly Lord. I will not let you humiliate my disciples.”

“Then fight,” Xuanfa said, his tone bored. He raised his right hand, fingers spread, and a pale golden energy began to gather at his fingertips.

Shen Mengyue drew her sword. The blade sang as it left the scabbard, a whisper of silver light. She launched herself forward, her movements fluid, her sword aimed at his throat. Xuanfa did not move. He simply pointed a finger, and a beam of energy struck her blade, deflecting it sideways. She spun, adjusting her stance, and slashed again. He sidestepped, his movements economical, precise. With each exchange, he used only seventy percent of his power—he was toying with her.

She was good. Divine Transformation Middle Stage, a rare talent. But he was Great Perfection, and he had fought demons, gods, and monsters for centuries. She could not land a single blow. He deflected, dodged, and then, when she overextended, he thrust two fingers forward. The energy bolt struck her shoulder, and she cried out, stumbling. Her sword clattered to the ground.

Xuanfa closed the distance. His hand shot out, grabbing the collar of her robe. With a sharp jerk, he tore the fabric, exposing her shoulders. She gasped, trying to pull away, but his grip was iron. He ripped again, and her robes fell away, leaving her naked from the waist up. Her breasts were full, pale, and she flushed red with shame and fury.

He threw her to the ground. She landed on her back, the cold stone jarring her spine. He stood over her, looking down with that same cold expression. Fei crawled closer, stopping beside Xuanfa’s feet. She lifted her head, golden eyes meeting Shen Mengyue’s.

“It seems the sisters of the Immortal Mist Sect are about to have their buttocks bloomed,” Fei said, a light laugh in her voice—a laugh that held no mirth, only the hollow echo of her own broken pride.

Shen Mengyue trembled, her teeth gritted. She tried to rise, but Xuanfa placed a foot on her chest, pressing her back down. He looked at Fei, then at the disciples gathering at the hall entrance, their faces pale with terror.

“Line them up,” Xuanfa ordered. “All of them. Outside the main hall. Naked, bent over.”

Fei nodded once, then turned and crawled toward the disciples, her naked form moving with practiced submission. A new order was beginning.

The morning sun cast long shadows across the main hall of the Immortal Mist Sect. Xuanfa stood at the top of the stone steps, his black training clothes perfectly still despite the breeze that stirred the leaves around him. His cold gaze swept over the assembled female cultivators who knelt in terrified rows before him, their white and black Daoist robes shimmering in the pale light.

Shen Mengyue stood apart from her disciples, her body still bare from her defeat the night before. She had not been permitted to dress, and the morning chill raised goosebumps on her fair skin. Her waist-length black hair cascaded down her back, barely covering the curves of her body.

"The Immortal Mist Sect has offended me," Xuanfa said, his voice carrying no emotion. "Every female cultivator in this sect will be spanked on the bare bottom. One hundred strokes each. The punishment begins now."

A ripple of terror passed through the kneeling disciples. Whimpers and soft sobs broke the silence. Some of the younger girls began to cry, their shoulders shaking as they clutched each other's hands. They had all heard of Xuanfa's punishments. The stories that circulated through the cultivation world spoke of days-long spankings that left even the strongest cultivators unable to sit for a week.

Shen Mengyue's heart clenched. She watched her disciples—girls she had raised, trained, protected for decades, some for centuries—tremble in fear. Many of them were only in the Foundation Establishment or Core Formation stages. They would not survive one hundred strokes of any implement Xuanfa chose to use.

She stepped forward, her bare feet silent on the cold stone. "Heavenly Lord Xuanfa."

Xuanfa's dark eyes shifted to her. He said nothing, waiting.

Shen Mengyue lowered herself to her knees. The stone was rough against her skin. She pressed her forehead to the ground, her hair pooling around her on the stone. "Please, Heavenly Lord. Punish only me. I am the sect leader. It was my decision to challenge you. My disciples are innocent."

"Rise," Xuanfa said flatly. "You are in no position to negotiate."

Shen Mengyue remained prostrate. "I beg you. I accept all responsibility. Whatever punishment you deem fit, I will bear it. Just spare my disciples."

For a long moment, the only sound was the wind and the muffled crying of the young cultivators. Xuanfa descended the steps slowly, his boots clicking against each stone. He stopped in front of Shen Mengyue's bowed head.

"If only you are punished," he said, "the punishment must be severe."

"I accept," Shen Mengyue said without hesitation.

Xuanfa reached down and grabbed a handful of her black hair, pulling her head up. Her eyes met his, and she saw no mercy there. Only the cold satisfaction of someone who had won and intended to savor his victory.

"Two hundred strokes of the Heavenly Dao plank," Xuanfa said. "Every day. One hundred strokes in the morning, one hundred in the evening. The punishment will be administered here, in front of the main hall, before all your disciples. The term is thirty years."

Shen Mengyue felt the blood drain from her face. The Heavenly Dao plank. It was the most punishing implement in the cultivation world, designed to deliver pain that penetrated deep into the soul. Two hundred strokes a day. For thirty years.

Over two million strokes.

She had seen cultivators broken by fifty strokes. She had heard stories of those who begged for death after one hundred. Her hands trembled against the stone floor.

A throaty laugh broke the silence. Fei walked out from behind Xuanfa, her golden eyes gleaming with amusement. Her naked body moved with predatory grace, the black slave collar around her neck catching the light. Her fiery red hair danced in the wind, and her golden dragon horns seemed to glow.

"Two hundred strokes?" Fei said, her voice dripping with mockery. She walked around Shen Mengyue, her hips swaying deliberately. "Fei slave gets at least five hundred Heavenly Dao plank strokes a day. And I take them without a sound. Is Sister Yue's bottom that weak?"

Fei turned around and wiggled her plump buttocks, the skin smooth and unmarked despite the thousands of strokes she had endured. Her golden eyes sparkled with mischief.

Shen Mengyue did not respond. She kept her eyes on the ground, her jaw tight. She had no choice. For her disciples, she would bear this.

"I accept," she said quietly.

Xuanfa released her hair and stepped back. He raised one finger, and a beam of immortal magic shot forward. Shen Mengyue felt the air rush around her body, and then her hair was no longer covering her. The strands fell away, and she was completely exposed.

From head to toe, she was bare. Her fair skin glowed in the morning light. Her full breasts hung heavy against her chest, the nipples tight from the cold. Her waist curved inward before flaring to hips that were neither too wide nor too narrow, but perfectly proportioned. The dark triangle between her legs was visible to all.

She heard gasps from her disciples. Some of the older girls covered their eyes. Others stared in horrified fascination.

"You will not wear clothes for the duration of your punishment," Xuanfa said. "Every day, from morning to night, you will be naked before your sect. Let them see what their sect leader bears for them."

Shen Mengyue's face burned, but she nodded. "Yes, Heavenly Lord."

Xuanfa raised his hand again, and immortal magic wrapped around Shen Mengyue's body. She felt herself being lifted, then forced into position at the entrance of the main hall. Her knees pressed against the stone. Her upper body bent forward until her chest touched the ground. Her bottom rose high in the air, completely exposed and presented to all who passed.

The position was degrading. Her breasts pressed flat against the cold stone. Her face was turned to the side, her cheek against the ground. And her bottom—her plump, round bottom—was raised like an offering.

Two planks materialized in the air beside her. They were made of pure Heavenly Dao energy, translucent and glowing with faint blue light. Each one was three feet long, six inches wide, and an inch thick. They hummed with power.

"The first stroke," Xuanfa announced.

The first plank swung back and then forward with tremendous force. It connected with Shen Mengyue's right buttock, and the sound echoed across the sect compound like thunder. A bright red mark appeared instantly on the pale skin.

Shen Mengyue bit her lip to suppress a cry. The pain was extraordinary. It felt like a bolt of lightning had struck her bottom, searing through the flesh and deep into her bones. Her toes curled against the stone.

The second plank struck her left buttock with equal force. Another red mark appeared, symmetrical to the first. Shen Mengyue's breath hitched, but she remained silent.

Stroke after stroke fell. The planks alternated, one striking the right cheek, then the left. They were precise, each stroke landing exactly on the previous mark, building layer upon layer of pain.

By the tenth stroke, Shen Mengyue's bottom was a deep, angry red. By the twentieth, the skin had begun to swell. She could feel her buttocks growing hot and tender, each new stroke sending fresh waves of agony through her body.

Her disciples watched in stunned silence. Some had tears streaming down their faces. Others had turned away, unable to bear the sight of their dignified sect leader being spanked like a naughty child.

Fei walked around to stand beside Shen Mengyue's raised bottom. She watched the strokes fall with an appraising eye. "Not bad," she said. "For a first-timer. But you're making too much noise with your breathing. Fei slave could tell you how to take it better."

Shen Mengyue did not respond. She focused on breathing through the pain, on remaining still and accepting her punishment.

The thirtieth stroke arrived, and this time her bottom jumped involuntarily. The planks continued without pause. Fortieth stroke. Fiftieth. Her buttocks were now a uniform dark red, swollen to nearly twice their normal size.

Sixtieth stroke. Shen Mengyue's hands clenched into fists against the stone. Seventieth. A soft whimper escaped her lips. Eightieth. Tears began to leak from the corners of her eyes.

At the ninetieth stroke, her bottom was completely transformed. The skin was so swollen it looked like it might split. The dark red color had deepened to purple in some places. Every stroke sent sparks of agony through her entire body.

The hundredth stroke fell, and the planks vanished. The morning session was over.

Shen Mengyue remained in position, her body trembling. Her bottom felt like it was on fire. She could not imagine enduring another hundred strokes that evening, much less doing this every day for thirty years.

Xuanfa walked up behind her and placed his hand on her burning bottom. She flinched at his touch.

"You have done well for your first session," he said. "But this is only the beginning. In thirty years, your bottom will be as hard as Fei's."

Fei sauntered over and knelt beside Shen Mengyue. "Fei slave wants to be spanked too," she announced, her voice carrying a note of pleading.

Xuanfa looked at her. "You have already had your morning strokes."

"But Fei slave saw Sister Yue being spanked and it made Fei slave's bottom tingle," Fei said. She pouted, an expression that looked almost comical on a dragon lord. "Please, Master. Fei slave has been good. She deserves a spanking."

Xuanfa's lips twitched in what might have been amusement. "Very well. Kneel beside her."

Fei's golden eyes lit up with joy. She quickly assumed the same position as Shen Mengyue, her knees on the stone, her upper body bent forward, and her plump bottom raised high. Her tailbone lifted proudly, and her buttocks parted slightly to reveal the dark crevice between them.

The two Heavenly Dao planks materialized again, but now there were four. Two for Shen Mengyue, two for Fei.

"Double strokes," Xuanfa commanded. "Two hundred for each. Begin."

The planks descended. Shen Mengyue cried out as the first stroke landed on her already-tortured bottom. The pain was magnified a hundredfold. Her swollen flesh screamed in protest.

Beside her, Fei took her strokes with a contented sigh. "Ah, yes. That's the spot. Fei slave's bottom has been lonely this morning."

Shen Mengyue watched through tear-blurred eyes as Fei's bottom absorbed stroke after stroke without complaint. The dragon demon's buttocks were a work of art—full, round, and firm. They bounced with each impact, and the glowing planks left marks that faded almost as quickly as they appeared.

"How... how do you bear it?" Shen Mengyue gasped between strokes.

Fei turned her head to look at her. Her golden eyes were warm, almost kind. "You learn to accept it," she said. "The pain does not change. You change. You become someone who can take the pain."

"But fifty years," Shen Mengyue said. "How did you survive fifty years?"

Fei's expression flickered. For a moment, the playful mask slipped, and Shen Mengyue saw something raw beneath. "One day at a time," Fei said quietly. "One stroke at a time. And eventually, you realize that the pain is just pain. It cannot break you unless you let it."

The planks continued to fall. One hundred strokes for Fei. One hundred and twenty for Shen Mengyue. The morning sun climbed higher, and the shadows grew shorter.

Shen Mengyue's consciousness began to fade around the hundred and fiftieth stroke. The pain had become a constant roar in her ears. She could no longer distinguish individual strokes. Each one merged into the next in an endless cascade of agony.

"Stay awake," Xuanfa's voice came from somewhere above her. "If you faint, I will add ten strokes for recovery."

She forced her eyes open. She focused on the stone beneath her cheek, on the texture of the grain, on anything other than the fire consuming her bottom.

Beside her, Fei had begun to moan softly with each stroke. Not

（本章内容较长，当前页面已截取部分内容）

The Heavenly Dao planks descended with merciless precision, their flat wooden surfaces cracking against the raised buttocks of Shen Mengyue and Fei in perfect synchrony. The sound echoed across the city walls, a sharp percussive rhythm that set the teeth of every onlooker on edge.

Shen Mengyue's naked body trembled with each strike, her waist-length black hair cascading forward as she gripped the cold stone beneath her. Her buttocks, once pale and flawless, now bore the angry red marks of fifty strokes. The planks continued their assault, each landing with surgical accuracy, spreading the heat and pain evenly across both cheeks. Her legs were bound apart, leaving her completely exposed, and she bit her lower lip until it bled to stop herself from crying out.

Fei, kneeling beside her with her golden horns gleaming in the afternoon light, took her punishment with a different demeanor. Her fiery red hair danced wildly around her shoulders as she arched her back, presenting her plump bottom high in the air. The planks struck her with the same force, but she responded with sounds that hovered somewhere between a scream and a moan. Her golden eyes were half-closed, and her tail swished behind her in agitation.

From below, the disciples of the Immortal Mist Sect watched in horrified silence. Many had tears streaming down their faces, but none dared move. The sight of their revered sect leader, stripped naked and spanked like a disobedient child, shattered every notion of dignity they had ever held.

A young man with a sword stepped forward, his face contorted with rage. "Release her!"

Before he could take two steps, Xuanfa's finger flicked. A beam of black energy struck the disciple, sending him crashing to the ground, unconscious.

"Anyone else?" Xuanfa's voice was ice.

Three more disciples tried to rush forward. Three more beams of black energy. Three more bodies crumpled to the ground.

Xuanfa turned his cold gaze to the assembled crowd. "Each time someone attempts to defy punishment to save Shen Mengyue, she will receive an additional fifty lashes of the whip across the crack of her buttocks. Additionally, an anal hook will be inserted into her anus for the entire night."

Shen Mengyue's eyes widened, but she said nothing. She had made her choice when she chose to shield her disciple.

Xuanfa raised his hand, and two black whips materialized from thin air. They hovered for a moment, then shot toward the two women with serpentine precision.

Shen Mengyue's legs were forcibly spread apart by an invisible force, leaving the most private part of her anatomy completely exposed. The whip cracked through the air and struck directly into the sensitive valley between her buttocks. The leather wrapped around her perineum, snapping against her vagina and anus with brutal accuracy.

A scream tore from Shen Mengyue's throat. The pain was unlike anything she had experienced. It radiated through her entire lower body, sending shocks of agony through her nerves. The whip struck again, and again, each lash finding the same target with unerring precision. Her anus began to swell, the delicate skin turning red and raw. Her vagina, too, took the punishment, the lips growing puffy and inflamed.

Fei, by contrast, spread her own legs voluntarily. She knew the drill. She had endured fifty years of this punishment. The whip cracked against her crack, and she threw her head back, her golden eyes flashing.

"Ha!" she cried out, the sound both pain and pleasure. "Thank you to the sisters of Immortal Mist for getting Fei slave more punishment!"

Her voice rang out mockingly, and she laughed even as the whip split the air again. The leather struck her anus, her perineum, her vagina, and she shuddered, her breath catching.

"Each cry of help from your disciples brings me closer to satisfaction," Fei called out to Shen Mengyue. "Please, tell them to keep trying!"

Shen Mengyue could barely process the words through the haze of pain. The whip continued its assault, fifty strokes for each of the three disciples who had tried to intervene. One hundred and fifty lashes total, each striking the most sensitive area of her body.

By the time the whipping stopped, Shen Mengyue's entire lower body was a mess of red, swollen flesh. Her anus had closed into a tight knot of inflamed tissue, and her vagina lips were puffy and purple. She panted heavily, tears streaming down her cheeks.

Xuanfa walked toward her, his footsteps echoing on the stone. In his hand, he held two crescent-shaped metal implements, each attached to a chain. The anal hooks gleamed in the fading light.

"Open," he commanded.

Shen Mengyue had no strength to resist. The first hook approached her anus, the cold metal pressing against the swollen opening. She whimpered as it pushed inward, the curved tip finding its purchase inside her rectum. The pain was excruciating, a deep burning sensation that made her whole body clench.

The second hook was for Fei. The dragon lord accepted it without complaint, her golden eyes meeting Xuanfa's cold gaze. She had endured far worse. This was nothing.

Xuanfa attached chains to both hooks, then suspended them from a beam above. The weight of the chains pulled at the hooks, creating a constant pressure inside their rectums that prevented either woman from finding any comfort.

"Father," Lin Qiaoxin said softly from where she sat bound. "Is this necessary?"

Xuanfa's gaze flickered to her. "She chose to protect you. She chose to break my rules. Punishment is necessary to maintain order."

The sun dipped below the horizon, and torches were lit around the punishment grounds. The disciples remained, many of them weeping silently, unable to look away from their sect leader's humiliation.

Xuanfa approached Shen Mengyue one final time. His hand hovered over her battered bottom, and a soft glow emanated from his palm. The healing energy flowed into her flesh, mending the deep bruises, erasing the plank marks, soothing the worst of the damage.

But not all of it.

When he was done, Shen Mengyue's buttocks were still slightly red and swollen. Not enough to cause serious injury, but enough that she could never forget what had happened. Every movement, every shift of position, brought the lingering sting back to the forefront of her consciousness.

"Plank marks are not pretty on a beautiful bottom," Xuanfa said, his voice carrying a hint of amusement. "I much prefer watching a pristine canvas being painted anew each day."

Shen Mengyue said nothing. She simply lay there, suspended by the hook in her anus, feeling the residual heat in her buttocks, knowing that tomorrow she would be punished again.

Fei, meanwhile, had already recovered. Her dragon blood healed quickly, and by now the marks from the spanking and whipping had faded to faint pink lines. She positioned herself back into the kneeling posture, her plump bottom raised high.

"I still have five hundred strokes of the plank to complete," she said, her voice steady. "Please continue, Master."

The Heavenly Dao planks descended once more, and Fei's cries once again became that strange mixture of pain and ecstasy that only she could produce. She moaned, she screamed, and she laughed, her entire body shaking with each impact.

Shen Mengyue watched, her eyes hollow. She had never seen anyone endure punishment with such... enthusiasm. It was as if Fei had learned to find pleasure in the pain, or at least to pretend well enough that it no longer held power over her.

The night stretched on, filled with the sound of planks hitting flesh, whips cracking through the air, and the occasional involuntary whimper from one of the two women suspended in punishment beneath the stars.

For three years, the Immortal Mist Sect lived under the shadow of Xuanfa's unyielding discipline. Each morning, as the sun crept over the peaks, every disciple—from the lowest Qi Condensation novice to the oldest Elders—was compelled to gather in the vast courtyard before the main hall. No one dared to be late. No one dared to look away.

Before the hall's stone steps, two figures knelt side by side on the cold, polished granite. Shen Mengyue, once the proud Sect Leader, now knelt naked with her forehead pressed to the ground, her arms stretched forward, her spine curved in a deep bow. Her waist-length black hair pooled around her shoulders and onto the stone, but it could not hide the vivid, angry redness that covered her buttocks from crest to thigh. Every morning, she was spanked one hundred strokes with a flat, wide plank of dark wood. The marks layered upon each other—some still pink and fresh, others mellowed to a deep crimson from days past—forming a patchwork of pain across her rounded flesh. Her skin bore the fine, horizontal lines of the plank's grain, and a faint shine of swelling made the contours of her buttocks appear taut and overly full. She trembled slightly, not from cold, but from the anticipation of the first stroke.

Beside her, Fei knelt with a different posture. The dragon lord's fiery red hair cascaded wildly down her back, framing her elegant golden horns. Her golden eyes, once filled with contempt for all beings, now held a quiet, smoldering vigilance. She too was naked, a black slave collar encircling her neck, and her body was a masterpiece of curves and strength—lean muscle under smooth, flawless skin. Her buttocks, however, were a canvas of sustained punishment. The three thousand strokes she had endured years ago at Wuling City had left her skin tougher, but Xuanfa's daily discipline kept her tender. Each morning, she received fifty strokes from a thin, flexible rod that left dark, parallel welts across her lower cheeks and the tops of her thighs. The welts were arranged with precision, crossing and recrossing like a lattice. Her anus, still slightly pink from a recent enema, puckered occasionally as she braced for impact. She did not cry out. She had learned to endure with a stoic silence that impressed even her tormentor.

The disciples stood in rows, their eyes fixed on the ground or on the two punished women, but never on Xuanfa. Even a glance in his direction invited another disciple to be stripped and spanked on the spot. They had learned that lesson early.

Xuanfa stood before the kneeling women, his black training clothes immaculate, his expression a mask of cold indifference. He held no implement—his fingers twitched, and a plank of solid darkness materialized in his hand. He raised it.

"The first stroke," he said, his voice flat, carrying across the silent courtyard.

The plank descended on Shen Mengyue's right cheek with a sharp *crack* that echoed off the walls. Her body jerked, a soft gasp escaping her lips, but she held her position. A new red mark bloomed over the older ones, darker, angrier. The disciples flinched in unison.

Stroke after stroke followed, each one deliberate, measured. Xuanfa alternated between the two women, ensuring neither could anticipate the next blow. When Shen Mengyue had received her full hundred, her buttocks were a deep, blotchy red, and her breath came in ragged, controlled gasps. Tears clung to her lashes, but she did not let them fall.

Fei endured her fifty with a set jaw. The rod whistled through the air, landing with a sting that made her muscles clench. By the end, her welts had turned a vivid purple, and the skin between them was swollen and hot to the touch. She pressed her forehead to the stone and waited.

After the punishment, the disciples filed away in silence, their fear of Xuanfa absolute. Shen Mengyue and Fei remained kneeling, their bottoms still raised, until Xuanfa dismissed them with a wave.

During these three years, Xuanfa spent his nights in a secluded chamber within the sect, refining a magical artifact he called the Heavenly Realm. It was a sphere of crystal and metal, intricate arrays carved into its surface, glowing with a soft, otherworldly light. When completed, it could take in female cultivators who voluntarily entered and make them his female slaves. Inside was a vast space—mountains, rivers, forests—all under a sky that never changed. The environment was saturated with spiritual energy, ideal for cultivation. But there were conditions: no female slave within could wear clothes, and each day, they had to accept a spanking punishment. The Heavenly Realm had a malicious property: no matter how severely a female slave's buttocks were beaten, after the punishment, they would heal—but only partially. The plank marks would vanish, the bruises would fade, but the skin would remain slightly red and swollen, leaving a lingering ache, a constant reminder of the discipline. Each new day, they would face punishment with buttocks that were already tender.

Xuanfa had already chosen his first female slave for the Heavenly Realm. He spoke of it one evening as he sat in the main hall, a jade cup of tea in his hand. Shen Mengyue and Fei knelt before him, their bodies still warm from the day's spanking.

"The formation genius Lin Qiaoxin," Xuanfa said. "She will be the first to enter."

Fei looked up, a faint, almost mischievous smile touching her lips. "Is master going to catch a new female slave? Fei will soon have a sister to be spanked with."

Xuanfa's eyes flickered to her. "You seem eager."

"It has been lonely, master," Fei said, her voice soft but not submissive. "The days are long, and the punishment is routine. A new companion would break the monotony."

Shen Mengyue said nothing. She stared at the floor, her hands clasped behind her back, her naked body still marked with faint pink from the day's ordeal.

The next morning, Xuanfa prepared to leave. He stood at the entrance of the main hall, his black robes billowing in the wind. He raised a hand, and a strand of his spiritual essence split from his body, solidifying into a doppelgänger—an exact copy of himself, cold and expressionless. It would remain in the Immortal Mist Sect to oversee the daily punishments. No stroke would be missed. No mercy would be shown.

Shen Mengyue knelt at the doppelgänger's feet, her head bowed.

Xuanfa then turned to Fei. "Come."

Fei rose gracefully, her naked body catching the morning light. She walked to him and knelt, lowering her head. Xuanfa attached a black leash to the ring on her slave collar, the leather cool against her neck. Without a word, he mounted her back, settling himself on her spine as if she were a riding beast.

Fei lifted her head, her golden eyes meeting Shen Mengyue's for a brief moment. A flicker of something—perhaps pity, perhaps solidarity—passed between them.

"Don't think about running away or committing suicide," Fei said to Shen Mengyue, her voice low but clear. "Both are acts of defying punishment. And defying punishment in front of the master is more terrifying than death."

Shen Mengyue's eyes widened slightly, but she said nothing. She watched as Xuanfa tugged the leash, and Fei began to crawl forward, her hands and feet moving with surprising grace, carrying her master away from the sect. They passed through the gates, down the mountain path, and into the mist that surrounded the Immortal Mist Sect.

The doppelgänger watched them go, then turned its cold gaze on Shen Mengyue. "Prepare for tomorrow's punishment," it said.

Shen Mengyue bowed her head lower. "Yes, master."

The mist swallowed Xuanfa and Fei, and the Immortal Mist Sect settled into another day of enforced silence and discipline. But in the hearts of the disciples, a faint hope began to stir. If Xuanfa was gone, even for a time, perhaps the terror would ease. But they knew better than to voice it. The doppelgänger was still there, and its eyes saw everything.

Xuanfa left the Immortal Mist Sect without a word, his black training clothes billowing in the wind as he strode through the forest. He had sensed Lin Qiaoxin's presence not far away, her playful aura unmistakable. Within minutes, he found her sitting cross-legged on a mossy boulder, her red dress bunched around her thighs as she fiddled with a formation array in her palm.

Lin Qiaoxin looked up, her twin pigtails bouncing. Her eyes widened. "Well, well, if it isn't the infamous Xuanfa the Heavenly Lord. I heard you made quite a spectacle out of Sect Leader Shen." She grinned, then froze as she saw what moved behind him.

Emerging from the shadow of the trees was a naked woman on all fours. She crawled with a fluid, powerful grace, her fiery red hair cascading in wild waves over her shoulders. On her head sat a pair of exquisite golden dragon horns, gleaming in the sunlight. Her golden eyes held a flicker of pride long since crushed, but still embers beneath the surface. A black slave collar encircled her neck. Her body was flawless, tall and lithe, with muscles that rippled under smooth skin. She moved forward until she knelt beside Xuanfa's feet, her gaze fixed on the ground.

Lin Qiaoxin's jaw dropped. "That's... that's Fei! The dragon demon lord! Divine Transformation Great Perfection! And she's..." She pointed, incredulous. "She's crawling around naked, carrying you?"

Xuanfa dismounted from Fei's back with a single, fluid motion. His face was cold, unreadable. He walked toward Lin Qiaoxin without preamble.

"I have come to take you as my female slave," he said, his voice flat.

Lin Qiaoxin blinked. Then she laughed. "Oh? Just like that? No courtship, no flowers? You're too overbearing, Heavenly Lord." She hopped off the boulder, hands on her hips. "And spanking hurts! I've heard all about what you did to Shen Mengyue. I'm not willing, not one bit."

Xuanfa didn't hesitate. He grabbed her wrist and spun her around, then sat down on the boulder, pulling her over his knee. Lin Qiaoxin yelped in surprise, her red dress riding up as she found herself bent over his lap.

Fei moved immediately, her naked form slinking forward. She pulled down Lin Qiaoxin's undergarments with practiced ease, exposing her pale, round bottom. Then she pinned Lin Qiaoxin's flailing legs to the ground, her grip firm and unyielding. In her other hand, she produced a black wood plank, worn smooth from use.

"If you do not agree, I will keep spanking," Xuanfa said, his hand taking the plank from Fei. He raised it high.

Lin Qiaoxin twisted her head, her face flushed. "You can't just—"

The plank came down with a sharp crack. A red print bloomed across her left cheek. Lin Qiaoxin gasped, her body jerking.

"Ouch! That hurts! You bully!" she cried, struggling against Fei's hold. But Fei's strength was absolute, her dragon lineage making her grip like iron.

Another crack. This time her right cheek. Lin Qiaoxin's legs kicked uselessly.

"This is unreasonable! I'm a Nascent Soul cultivator, not some child to be spanked!" She tried to reach back to protect her bottom, but Fei caught her hand and pinned it to the small of her back.

Xuanfa continued, each stroke precise and steady. The plank left a trail of red welts across her skin. Her bottom quickly turned from pale to pink, then to a deep crimson. She squirmed, her laughter gone, replaced by sharp yelps and bitten-off curses.

"Stop! Stop, please!" she begged between strikes, her voice cracking.

Xuanfa paused. "Will you agree?"

Lin Qiaoxin panted, her body trembling over his knee. "It hurts so much... I don't want to be spanked anymore..."

"Then agree."

Fei leaned close, her golden eyes meeting Lin Qiaoxin's tear-filled ones. Her voice was a silken whisper, carrying the weight of aged pain. "It is better for Sister Xin to obey obediently. When Fei slave was defeated by our master, she was stripped naked in front of the demon army and spanked three thousand times with the Heavenly Dao plank he summoned. Even Fei slave's body could not stand it. I was spanked until tears and snot flowed, howling like a ghost." She paused, her golden-eyed gaze softening. "And ginger strips were inserted into my anus. Does Sister Xin want to taste ginger strips too?"

Lin Qiaoxin's eyes went wide with horror. "Ginger...? No! No, thank you!"

Xuanfa's voice came low, almost seductive in its calm. "Become my female slave, and I will guide you to higher realms. Fei, a Divine Transformation Great Perfection expert, will be your teacher. You will break through Nascent Soul and reach Divine Transformation faster than you ever imagined."

Lin Qiaoxin sniffled, her cheek pressed against the boulder. She looked at Fei, who nodded slightly, a hint of shared understanding in her eyes. Then she looked at the red-hot welts across her own bottom, throbbing with every heartbeat.

"Fine," she whispered. "Fine, I agree. Just stop spanking me!"

Xuanfa set down the plank. Fei released her legs. As Lin Qiaoxin tried to push herself upright, a sudden, invisible force pulled at her. Fei, too, was drawn upward.

The world blurred. The forest, the boulder, the sky—all dissolved into a vortex of light. Lin Qiaoxin felt herself falling upward, tumbling through clouds of pure energy. Fei floated beside her, her naked form serene, her golden hair streaming.

Then they landed on a vast, rocky plain. Above them, a sky of swirling stars and streams of golden light. Below them, the ground pulsed with a faint hum, like the heartbeat of a living giant. A grand palace loomed in the distance, its spires piercing the heavens.

Xuanfa appeared beside them, his black robes untouched by the transition. He looked at Lin Qiaoxin, her red dress askew, her bare bottom still bearing the marks of the plank.

"Welcome to the Heavenly Realm," he said. "Your new life begins now."